Mistletoe Kiss with the Millionaire: A heart-warming Christmas romance not to miss in 2021

By Donna Alward

A fake engagement…
…might lead to a festive "I do"?
In this Heirs to an Empire story, tycoon Christophe and gemologist Sophie have always been attracted to one another. Yet they’ve never gone beyond friendship—Sophie wants happy-ever-after, and he avoids it at all costs. But when Sophie finds herself in need of a fake fiancé, Christophe steps in. It’s meant to be an act, but they can’t escape their chemistry and now they’re wondering… Could real love be waiting underneath the mistletoe?
 
Heirs to an Empire miniseries
Book 1 – Scandal and the Runaway Bride
Book 2 - The Heiress’s Pregnancy Surprise
Book 3 – Wedding Reunion with the Best Man
Book 4 – Mistletoe Kiss with the Millionaire
 
“A beautifully written contemporary romance from an outstanding storyteller, The Heiress’s Pregnancy’s Surprise is a poignant, nuanced and warm-hearted tale that sparkles with delightful charm, compelling emotional drama and searing intensity.”
-Goodreads
 
“Ms. Alward wrote a wonderful, sweet and emotional story that is not to be missed. She provided a tale rich with sizzling chemistry, revealing conversations, and other charming characters…. I highly recommend Scandal and the Runaway Bride to other readers.”
-Goodreads
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harlequin
• Release date: Oct 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9780369713063

Donna Alward

Donna lives on Canada's east coast with her family which includes a husband, a couple of kids, a senior dog and two crazy cats. When she's not writing she enjoys knitting, gardening, cooking, and is a Masterpiece Theater addict. While her heartwarming stories have been translated into several languages, hit bestseller lists and won awards, her favorite thing is to hear from readers! Visit her on the web at www.donnaalward.com

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

SOPHIE WALTHAM LOOKED at the couples turning on the dance floor and pursed her lips. A Pemberton social function hadn’t been on her must attend list in her diary, but her parents had decided to go to Prague for a week to celebrate their anniversary and had insisted Sophie represent the family at the event. She tapped her toe impatiently, wondering how long she had to stay before she could politely leave. It was an engagement party for Bella Pemberton and Viscount Downham. So why was she expected to represent as if this were a business function?

The dress she’d chosen had been a mistake. Her go-to little black dress was fitting a bit too snugly these days, and she wasn’t comfortable in it or in the stilettos on her feet. Her dark hair was down around her shoulders, and a Waltham original piece graced her neck—a narrow, glimmering necklace of pearls and diamonds that she’d designed herself. She’d deliberately chosen it instead of an Aurora Gems piece. If she wanted to build her name as a designer, she should be wearing her own creations.

What had begun as Waltham Fine Jewelry nearly a century ago was now simply Waltham, the name alone synonymous with quality on Bond Street. It was also one of the exclusive distributors of Aurora Gems, the jewelry line for the Aurora, Inc. dynasty. Which was why she was standing here, on the sidelines of the party, sipping club soda and lime and wishing she were home with her feet up, reading. She was tired. And her feet hurt.

She sighed and went back to the bar to refresh her drink. Just as she picked it up, a smooth voice sounded behind her that eased some of the tension in her shoulders.

Well hello, stranger.

There was still a hint of French accent in Christophe Germain’s voice, despite being brought up at Chatsworth Manor, the family home of the Earl of Chatsworth. She smiled and turned, happy to see his smile, his curly dark hair, and his right eyebrow. For as long as she could remember, he’d been able to lift that eyebrow just a tad when teasing, giving him a roguish air.

Christophe Germain was secretly her favorite member of the Pemberton family. He was also newly in charge of Aurora’s jewelry division. Despite that important fact, she hadn’t seen him for several months.

It was lovely to see that, unlike her, he hadn’t changed.

Christophe! She leaned forward, and they bussed cheeks. I’m so glad you’re here.

You are? How delightful. He looked her up and down and grinned. You look like Holly Golightly.

Thank you... I think? Her hairstyle certainly wasn’t the short, gamine look of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, but she supposed the dress fit the bill and the necklace, too.

It’s a compliment. You are elegant, as always.

She knew some women would find the compliment boring and colorless, but not her. Understated, classic elegance was her preferred style; avant-garde wasn’t. She saved the creativity for her gemstones and precious metals.

They moved away from the bar so as to not interrupt the flow of thirsty guests. I’ve been meaning to pay Waltham a visit, he continued. The last few months have been so busy, though. Maybe I can set up a time in the next few weeks. Before the holidays, for sure.

My father would love that. And so would I. Though she’d never admit it, she’d always had a bit of a crush on Christophe. Oh, she’d never acted on it—she appreciated their friendship too much. Besides, if he knew, he’d tease her mercilessly about it. He and Mum are on their anniversary trip this week. Thirty-three years.

He lifted his glass in a salute. Now that’s something to celebrate.

It certainly was, especially after her mother’s illness a few years ago. Time was no longer something they took for granted. She looked at Christophe. Her mum had survived, but he’d recently lost the man who’d been a father to him most of his life.

She put her hand on his arm. How are you doing, since Cedric’s passing?

The Pemberton family had been left grief-stricken and reeling since Cedric’s death. Sophie had attended the funeral but hadn’t had the opportunity to really chat with Christophe since.

I’m all right. Tante Aurora is a strong woman. I still miss him and his advice, though. And the last few months have been a bit crazy on the family front.

I heard about William’s marriage, and Charlotte’s, too. She’d offered congratulations to both of Christophe’s cousins earlier. Charlotte looked ready to pop, expecting her first child with her husband within a few weeks. Seeing her glowing and happy had made Sophie’s heart soften with wistful wishing. It wasn’t often she let down her guard, let emotion override her determination. But seeing a very pregnant Charlotte had made her realize that by the time January rolled around, none of her dresses would be fitting anymore. She had already made her decision about her baby, but no one seemed interested in hearing it.

Yes, Christophe said, and now Bella and Burke. Very happy for them, of course. As long as the marriage bug doesn’t bite me, I’ll be fine. He winked at her, and she laughed. It was no secret that Christophe was a die-hard bachelor.

Come, now. You’re one of France’s most eligible, aren’t you?

That does not mean I have any desire to settle down. His voice held a touch of humor, and he offered her a bland look. There’s been more than enough drama at Chez Pemberton for a decade. He winked at her. I suppose it does keep the days from being monotonous, though. Or, you know. Makes me look up from my desk now and again. He pretended to adjust his tie. Put on a tux now and again.

What about the woman you were dating last... What was her name? Elizabeth or something?

Christophe lifted his eyebrow. My, you’ve been paying close attention. Lizzy, yes. That ended a while ago. He sighed. Suddenly she was all about marriage and babies.

Sophie watched him closely. And you’re not that guy?

He shook his head. I’m very much not that guy. Besides, I’m too busy for a social life right now. Company functions are about it.

She linked her arm through his and they walked to a nearby table. Has the workload been daunting? With Aurora semi retiring?

A bit. I still run the jewelry section, but I’ve taken over some of Bella’s cosmetics division, as well. He laughed and shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling in his perfectly tailored tuxedo. Me, in cosmetics. There’s been a learning curve.

She laughed, too, and the night suddenly seemed brighter. She had known Christophe for several years, and she’d never been as intimidated by him as she had been by his cousins. She knew that he’d gone to live with the Pembertons when he was nine and had been brought up as one of the children with the same advantages and love. And yet she knew, too, that he still felt the difference. He was Aurora’s nephew, but Aurora had also come from humble beginnings. Stephen, William, Charlotte, Bella...they were all Cedric’s natural children, born into English aristocracy. Stephen was the new Earl of Chatsworth.

Once she’d heard Christophe refer to himself as the bastard cousin, and she’d told him firmly that he was never to refer to himself as that again. As she looked him over, she remained convinced that there was absolutely nothing wrong with Christophe Germain. Nothing at all.

Your necklace is lovely. And not one of ours, I don’t think.

She took a sip of her drink and met his gaze. I’ve been doing some designing. This is one of mine. Though one of the simpler ones. The small double strand of pearls was joined together by a glittering diamond clasp in the shape of a honeybee.

I like this. He reached out with a finger and touched the clasp. A shiver skittered over her skin. She hoped he didn’t notice the reaction. The last thing she needed was for him to clue in that she was attracted to him in any way. That would remain her little secret. Besides, he’d just admitted he wasn’t into marriage and babies, and Sophie was a package deal now. That would be enough to send him running for the hills. No, he need never know of her crush.

I—I’ve been using some elements of nature in my latest designs, she admitted, trying to regain the slip in her composure. Flowers, leaves, fruit, bees.

Fertility, he mused, and she choked on her sip of club soda and began to cough. She wasn’t showing yet. It was too early. There was no way for him to know she was pregnant. But had she been, subconsciously, bringing those elements into her work because of what was happening in her personal life? It was an interesting observation, and something she wanted to think about more later, when she considered what direction she wanted to take her new designs. As a gemologist, she oversaw Waltham’s inventory. Each stone had to be of the highest quality to meet Waltham standards. She was good at that, but what she really wanted was to create her own original pieces.

He patted her back gently. You all right? he asked, that silly eyebrow puckered now in concern.

Oh, yes. Of course. She cleared her throat. Sorry about that.

Don’t be silly.

The song changed and he smiled at her. Come on. Let’s dance. You’ve been standing on the sidelines for the better part of an hour.

He’d noticed. What did that mean?

He held out his hand and she took it. How could she refuse? Besides, they’d danced together lots of times before. This was no different. He led her to the floor and brought her into the circle of his arms, moving smoothly, leading her effortlessly.

For a poor boy from a little French village, he had moves. In some ways, he was Pemberton through and through. His hand was strong and sure as it clasped hers, and he smelled delicious...hints of bergamot and sandalwood, perhaps. Whatever it was, she liked it.

His light chatter put her more at ease, and by the time the song was half over, she’d relaxed substantially, even laughing at some of his anecdotes about the family’s mishaps over the past few months. He managed to take some of their hardships—the media storm after Stephen was left at the altar, the sabotage of the Aurora line at New York Fashion Week—and make them into colorful stories. His face had softened as he told her about his Aunt Aurora’s heart troubles and how wonderful Burke had been. In addition to being Viscount Downham, Burke was a highly regarded cardiologist. And now he was marrying Bella, who, Christophe said, was so deserving of a happy ending.

What struck Sophie was the obvious affection he had for his family. She only had her brother, and as she’d been off to boarding school when he’d still been very young, they hadn’t really grown up together. It made her the smallest bit lonely, hearing Christophe talk about his cousins in such a way. She thought about the tiny bundle of cells growing within her belly. She didn’t want him or her to grow up as an only child. Which made her decision of last week even more...well, not confusing, really. But she could understand why some would think she was making a big mistake.

When the dance was over, Christophe led her to a table and held out a chair. She sank into it thankfully; the shoes were killing her feet and she was ready for bed. The baby was the size of a strawberry. How it could make her so exhausted was unbelievable. She stifled a yawn, then blushed as Christophe’s keen gaze held on her face.

It looks like someone is putting in extra hours at work. He frowned, then raised that quizzical eyebrow again. Either that or there is someone keeping you up all hours of the night. Is there someone new in your life, Sophie?

His teasing was going to be the end of her. Wouldn’t you like to know, she responded, offering a smile. One of the waitstaff stopped by and offered champagne. Christophe took a glass and she asked for iced water, hoping he wouldn’t notice and ask why. Worse, however, was when the circulating waitress approached with her tray of hors d’oeuvres. Sophie took one look at the salmon and trout tartare with pressed caviar and felt her stomach do a slow, sickening roll.

No raw fish. No soft cheese. The first she could do without; the second was more of a hardship. She adored cheese. Now she felt Christophe’s eyes on her again, so she smiled and chose an onion tartlet. She hadn’t had dinner yet, and right now just wanted to go home to her flat and make a cheese toastie.

Her water arrived. She smiled at Christophe and nibbled on the tartlet, while he smiled back and bit into smoked salmon on some sort of brioche.

The fishy smell hit her nostrils and she tried valiantly to swallow the tartlet. The onion, however, caught in her throat and she hastily reached for her water. Christophe had put down the rest of his brioche and was watching her curiously now. Sophie, are you all right? Is there something wrong? You don’t seem yourself tonight.

Because I’m not, she thought, but kept the words inside. Instead, she jumped from her chair and headed for the closest powder room. The onion had been a mistake, and the salmon smell had only made it worse. She couldn’t think about Christophe’s alarmed expression right now. She had only one thing on her mind—get to the bathroom before she embarrassed herself.

---

Christophe stood as Sophie rose from her chair, but he wasn’t even all the way upright when she dashed away, making a beeline for the ladies’ room. She definitely wasn’t okay. Hopefully it wasn’t food poisoning. The family would be appalled if such a thing happened at one of their events, and so would the hotel. Not that he particularly cared about that—about appearances. He was more worried that his friend had suddenly run off, ill. If she were truly sick, she should go home. Be in bed and sleep off whatever it was.

Christophe abandoned his champagne and the tiny plate of food and followed her, waiting just inside the ballroom where he could see the door to the bathroom. Several people passed by and said hello; he greeted them cordially but never lost sight of the door. When Sophie finally appeared, her face pale and eyes looking bruised, he grew even more concerned. He stepped forward, noting the surprise in her eyes when she looked up and saw him there.

You...you’re waiting for me. She bit down on her lip, and her eyes slid away from his. Something was very off with her, and the more time went by, the more concerned he became. He’d known Sophie for probably seven, eight years. The relationship between her family’s company and Aurora went back a very long way. And in all that time, he’d never seen her act so strangely. She was always warm, upfront, and easygoing in a way that was intimate.

You’re not feeling well. I wanted to make sure you were okay and offer you a way home if you want to go.

It’s still so early. But there was a tinge of relief in her tone, too, that belied her words.

You saw Burke and Bella, didn’t you? You don’t need to stay longer if you’re worried about any sort of obligation. Everyone will understand.

I doubt it, she muttered, low enough he barely caught the words. What on earth did that mean?

Soph?

She finally met his gaze and let out a sigh. I’m sorry, Christophe. I know I must seem all over the place. To be honest, I’m not feeling well, and I think I’ll grab a taxi and head home.

Let me drive you.

She glanced up in surprise. You have a car here?

Christophe was generally based in Paris, and he didn’t keep a flat here in London. But this trip was a little longer in nature, and the cars at the manor house sat idle too often. I’m using one of the family’s cars, he explained. I hate being driven everywhere. This gives me more freedom.

And London traffic. Brave man. She smiled slightly.

So, what do you say? I think we could both sneak off and no one would even notice. I’ll give you a lift home and make sure you’re okay, and then I can have a little of my own downtime. It works for me, too.

She looked as if she might refuse, so he added, "I love my cousin, but to be honest, all this romance lately has got to