LUCY MONROE - Million Dollar Christmas Proposal

“I think you’d better kiss me,” Audrey said.

“What?” Had he heard correctly? “You want me to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I think that should be obvious.”

Vincenzo was not used to people implying he was thick. “Explain it to me.”

“Because if we don’t have the chemistry to make it through a single kiss, the rest of this interview is an exercise in futility. Since you’re so set on us being physically compatible.”

It actually made sense, and he had not considered it because he’d been so intent on not giving in to his urge to kiss her.

He nodded and stood up, away from the desk, putting his hand out to her. “That is an excellent point.”

Curling his fingers around her hand, he pulled her to her feet. Her body came within inches of his own.

Their gazes locked. Hers was filled with trepidation—and something else that he had been unsure he would find there: desire.

“You want me.”

“I want a kiss,” she corrected, but the truth was there.

Dear Reader

When I was growing up, no matter how harsh life had got, my mom always made Christmas magical for us. I have very few good memories related to my dad, but Christmas mornings are one of them. From the big sooty boot-prints he made from our fireplace to the Christmas tree, to convince us Santa had come, to the cradle and highchair he made for my baby doll when I was seven, it was the one time a year I could remember him being a real dad.

My mom insisted Christmas miracles happened, and every year he managed to be a dad for that one day I knew she was right. By the time I was ten my dad was no longer around on Christmas or any other day, but the certainty of the magic of the holidays never left me.

My husband and I have tried to give magical moments to our own children and those we’ve taken in over the years. And, while Tom is an amazing dad every day of the year, I have to say he outshines himself at Christmas.

Hoping with my whole heart that you experience a little holiday magic this year!

Much love

Lucy

Million Dollar Christmas Proposal

Lucy Monroe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LUCY MONROEstarted reading at the age of four. After going through the children’s books at home, she was caught by her mother reading adult novels pilfered from the higher shelves on the bookcase… Alas, it was nine years before she got her hands on a Mills & Boon ®Romance her older sister had brought home. She loves to create the strong alpha males and independent women who people Mills & Boon ®books. When she’s not immersed in a romance novel (whether reading or writing it), she enjoys travel with her family, having tea with the neighbours, gardening, and visits from her numerous nieces and nephews.

Lucy loves to hear from her readers:

email LucyMonroe@LucyMonroe.com,

or visit www.LucyMonroe.com

Recent titles by the same author:

PRINCE OF SECRETS (By His Royal Decree) ONE NIGHT HEIR (By His Royal Decree) NOT JUST THE GREEK’S WIFE HEART OF A DESERT WARRIOR

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my niece, Hannah, because you are a big part of my holiday magic. Thank you for helping me and Isabelle decorate for Christmas, and especially for your patience and creativity in decorating my “Mr. Monk”, color-coordinated, every ornament evenly spaced tree each year. Few teenagers would be nearly so accepting of my OCD tendencies. Your parents raised you right and I’m in awe of what a lovely and strong young woman you truly are. Love you!

And with a special hug for all the teens who find themselves scrambling for a place to sleep this holiday season. It is my sincerest hope you find warmth and safety wrapped in holiday joy. That, as my husband and I have opened our home to some, so might others open theirs to you. Blessings and love!

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

EYES DRY, HEART shattered, Audrey Miller sat in the chair beside her baby brother’s hospital bed and prayed for him to wake up.

He’d been in a coma since the ambulance brought him in three days ago and she wasn’t leaving him. She wasn’t letting go of him. Not like their parents had done.

Not like their two older siblings had.

How could family act like strangers? Worse than strangers? The rest of the Miller clan had cruelly rejected the incredibly sweet, scary-smart twelve-year-old boy. All because he’d told their parents he was gay.

He was twelve, for heaven’s sake. What difference did it make?

But when he’d refused to recant his words, had insisted it wasn’t some kind of phase or confusion despite his tender years, their parents had kicked him out.

Audrey couldn’t even imagine it. She wouldn’t have known what do at that age, alone and homeless. Toby had, though.

With nothing more than his saved-up allowance, his laptop, and a backpack full of clothes, he’d made his way south the two hundred miles from Boston to New York.

He hadn’t called ahead, hadn’t questioned. He’d just come to Audrey. He’d trusted her to be there for him when the rest of the family wasn’t and she would never betray that trust.

Audrey hadn’t thought it could get any worse than her parents kicking Toby out, had been sure that given time to consider their actions they would change their minds and let him move back home. They lived in one of the most progressive cities in the country, for goodness’ sake.

But Carol and Randall Miller were not progressive people. She just hadn’t realized how very steeped in narrow-minded conservatism they were.

Not until they gave her an ultimatum: remain a member in good standing with the rest of the family or stick by Toby. They’d made it clear that if she stuck by her little brother and supported him in any way they would withdraw all financial support and cut off all contact with Audrey.

Their plan to scare both of their youngest children into compliance with their strict viewpoint of the world had backfired.

Audrey had refused and when Toby had learned what that cost her, he’d tried to kill himself. Toby had used the Swiss Army knife their father had given him for his twelfth birthday to cut his wrists.

It hadn’t been a cry for help; it had been a testament to his utter wretchedness at their parents’ total rejection. He did it when the house she shared with three other Barnard students was supposed to be empty for several hours.

If Audrey’s roommate hadn’t forgotten a paper she had to turn in and gone back to the house, if Liz hadn’t investigated the running shower when Toby hadn’t answered her call, he would have died there, his blood washing down the drain of their old-fashioned porcelain tub.

“I love you, Toby. You have to come back to me. You’re a good person.” And she would tell him that as many times as it took. “Come back. Please, Toby. I love you.”

Toby’s eyelids fluttered and then a dazed brown gaze met hers. “Audrey?”

“Yes. Sweetheart. I’m here.”

“I...” He looked confused.

She leaned over the bed and kissed his forehead. “You listen to me, Tobias Daniel Miller. You are my family. The only one that counts. Don’t you ever try to leave me again.”

“If I wasn’t here you’d be okay with Mom and Dad.”

“I’d rather have you,” she promised.

“No, I—”

“Stop. I mean it, Tobe. You’re my brother and I love you. You know how much it hurts that Mom and Dad don’t love us because we aren’t exactly what they want us to be?”

His mouth twisted with pain, his dark eyes haunted. “Yes.”

“Times that by a million and then you’ll know how much I’d hurt if I lost you. Okay?”

Then she saw something in her little brother’s eyes that she would do anything to keep there. A spark of hope amidst the desolation.

“Okay.”

It was a promise. Toby wouldn’t give up on himself again and neither would Audrey. Not ever.

CHAPTER ONE

“YOU WANT ME to find you a wife? You cannot be serious!”

Vincenzo Angilu Tomasi waited for his personal administrative assistant to close her mouth and stop making sounds like a dying fish gasping for water. He’d never heard her talk in exclamation points, hadn’t been sure she was capable of raising her voice, even.

Fifteen years his senior, and usually unflappably confident, Gloria had been with him since he took over at the NY branch of Tomasi Commercial Bank more than a decade ago.

Enzu had never seen this side of her. Had not believed it existed and would be quite happy to put it behind them now.

When she didn’t seem inclined to add anything to her shocked outburst, he corrected, “I will provide these children with a mama.”

Although he was third generation Sicilian in this country, he still gave the old-world accented pronunciation to the word.

His niece, Franca, was only four years old and his nephew, Angilu, a mere eight months. They needed parents, not uninterested caretakers. They needed a mother.

One who would see them raised in a stable environment unlike what he had known as a child or had been able to provide for his younger brother. Which, yes, would mean the woman would have to become his wife as well, but that was of negligible consideration.

“You can’t possibly expect me to find them that. It’s impossible.” Outrage evident in every line of her body, shock dominated Gloria’s usually placid-whatever-the-circumstances expression. “I know my job description is more elastic than most, but this is beyond even my purview.”

“I assure you I have never been more serious and I refuse to believe anything is beyond your capabilities.”

“What about a nanny?” Gloria demanded, clearly unimpressed with the compliment to her skills. “Wouldn’t that be a better solution to this unfortunate situation?”

“I do not consider my custody of my niece and nephew an unfortunate situation,” Enzu told her, his tone cold.

“No. No. Of course not. I apologize for my wording.” But Gloria did not look like she had an alternative description to offer.

In fact, once again, she seemed to be struck entirely speechless.

“I have fired four nannies since I took custody of Franca and Angilu six months ago.” And the current caretaker was not looking to last much longer. “They need a mama. Someone who will put their welfare ahead of everything else. Someone who will love them.”

He had no personal experience with that type of parenting, but he’d spent enough time in Sicily with his family over there. He knew what it was supposed to look like.

“You can’t buy love, sir! You just can’t.”

“I think you will find, Gloria, that indeed I can.” Bank President and CEO, the driving force behind its expansion from a regional financial institution to a truly international one and founder of his own Tomasi Enterprises, Enzu was one of wealthiest men in the world.

“Mr. Tomasi—”

“She will have to be educated,” Enzu said, interrupting further ranting on his assistant’s part. “A bachelor’s degree at least, but not a PhD.”

He didn’t want someone who was driven to excel academically at that level. Her primary focus would not be on the children but her academic pursuits.