Free The Twelve Nights of Christmas by Sarah Morgan Page A

enough about the press to understand that scandal and humiliation sold better than anything else. ‘Can’t you just stop them printing the photograph? Isn’t there a privacy law or something?’
    â€˜That isn’t going to help us. The best thing we can do is stop this whole thing looking sleazy.’ Ruthlessly focused, he strode towards the door of the Penthouse. ‘Stay out of sight. Whatever you do, don’t emerge from the bedroom until I come and get you. I don’t want anyone to see you.’
    â€˜Why? What are you going to do?’
    â€˜Find you some proper clothes and then show the world we didn’t have a one-night stand.’
    Bemused, Evie stared at him. ‘How?’
    â€˜By proving that we share something special.’ A triumphant gleam in his eyes, he yanked open the door and turned to look at her. ‘I’m going to announce our engagement.’

CHAPTER FOUR
    R IO gave his Director of Communications a volley of instructions over the phone and then updated his lawyers.
    Listening to Pietro’s dire predictions, he felt his stomach clench.
    Whiter than white….
    He should have anticipated this.
    He should have known they’d do something to try and stop this deal going through. He’d been arrogant, allowing himself to relax and think that the whole thing was in the bag.
    Sweat cooled his brow and he realised that his hand was shaking. Making a conscious effort to control his breathing, he hauled his emotions back and buried them deep. Emotions had no place in negotiation, he knew that. And this was the most complex, delicate negotiation he’d ever conducted.
    â€˜Whatever it takes,’ he promised his lawyer. ‘You wanted wholesome—I’m giving you wholesome.’
    When the delivery arrived at the Penthouse, he dismissed the staff member and took the boxes through to the bedroom himself. He then handed them to the girl without breaking off his conversation and without risking another look at her luxuriant red hair.
    Why the hell had he kissed her?
    He was well aware that his own libido had catapulted him into this situation. If he’d taken one look at her andleft the room, the photographer wouldn’t have been able to get his shot.
    As it was…
    With a low growl, Rio focused his mind on the present.
    Having hammered out the plan with his team in Rome, he was about to call his team in New York when he heard the bedroom door open.
    The girl stood there, her eyes blazing with anger, her hair flowing like liquid fire down her back. ‘Excuse me! In case you’ve forgotten, this affects me, too. Do you intend to discuss any of this with me or are you just going to do your own thing?’
    â€˜I don’t problem solve by committee.’ Congratulating himself on his brief to the stylist, Rio scanned the discreet, elegant dress with satisfaction. It was perfect. She managed to look wholesome and sexy at the same time. This could just work. ‘I’m busy sorting out our problem right now.’
    â€˜No, Mr Zaccarelli, you’re sorting out your problem—I’m incidental. You haven’t once asked what I want to do about this mess which, by the way, is ultimately the fault of you and your stupid, slimy hotel manager, who can’t keep his hands to himself.’ She stalked across to him and shoved the redundant housekeeper uniform into his hands while Rio dissected that sentence into its relative parts.
    â€˜What do you mean, he “can’t keep his hands to himself”? Are you saying he touched you?’ Astonished by the sudden explosion of anger that was released by that unexpected revelation, Rio was suddenly glad he’d fired Carlos on the spot. His voice cold, he probed for the details. ‘Did you report him for sexual harassment?’
    â€˜No. I broke his finger.’
    â€˜You broke his finger?’
    â€˜My grandfather taught unarmed combat during the war. He