“Can we go outside, Mom?” the little girl pleaded, wiggling in front of the large plate window as only an ecstatic six-year-old could. “Please, can we?”
“It's Christmas morning!” Ellie replied with a soft laugh. “Don't you want to open your presents?”
Catia spared a quick glance over at the tree, and for an instant seemed to waver. “Yes, but…” She glanced back at the window. “I've never seen snow before!”
Ellie heard a creak on the stairs. She loved all the creaks of this one-hundred-year-old house. Especially when she recognized the footsteps.
“Diogo,” she said. A glow went through her as he entered the room. Even dressed in a white T-shirt and pajama pants, with his chin dark with bristle and his hair a mess, he was the handsomest man in the world to her.
“Ellie.” His dark eyes lit up with his smile as he came down the stairs. On the other side of the sofa, he leaned over to kiss Ellie on the lips. “Feliz Natal, meu amor.”
“Merry Christmas,” she replied, caressing his cheek.
“Papa?” Catia cried eagerly. “Can we go play in the snow?”
Diogo groaned, stretching with a yawn. “Just a minute, little one.”
Ellie grinned impishly at the dark circles under his eyes. “Thanks for keeping Gabriel company last night.”
He grinned back, glancing down at the baby snuggled in her arms. “I wouldn't miss it.”
Life was a miracle, she thought happily. Since Diogo told her he loved her, every day was a new precious miracle to her.
In more ways than one. When Timothy had raised the gun in the favela, she'd thought their lives were over. She'd felt Diogo whirl around to protect her and the unborn twins with the shield of his body. But when the team of bodyguards stormed into the concrete house, he'd given a final frustrated scream—and turned the gun on himself.
The babies had arrived in Diogo's Bentley on the way to the hospital. In spite of the many potential complications of a multiple birth—particularly being born in the backseat of a car—both Ana and Gabriel were healthy and thriving. Another gift to be grateful for, in this bright Christmas season….
Christmas in New York. Three weeks ago, Diogo had bought Ellie this historic nine-bedroom mansion. With a backyard—extremely rare for the Upper East Side—and a rooftop garden with a view of Central Park, the house was a showplace that had cost nearly fifty million dollars.
No, Diogo didn't fool around when it came to giving presents, she thought wryly.
Every day, he found some new way of making her happy. He didn't realize that just having him love her and the children was the greatest gift of all.
“Where's Ana?” Diogo asked.
“Sleeping in her bassinet.”
“Lucky baby.” With another yawn, Diogo went to pour himself some coffee in the kitchen. He'd been up with his son for most of the night. Gabriel only seemed interested in night sleeping if his father held him against his chest, walking him up and down the creaking hallways.
Ellie glanced fondly at baby Ana, sleeping soundly in the bassinet. She was a much better sleeper than her brother—perhaps because Ana was more mature. After all, she was older by four minutes.
“Papa!” Catia begged, jumping up and down in agony. She'd already put on her coat over her pajamas and boots on her bare feet.
“I can help you, kiddo,” Lilibeth said as she came down the stairs. “I can show how to make a snowman. I'm a pro. Just let me put on my lipstick.”
“Lipstick?” Ellie exclaimed. “Who do you expect to meet in the backyard?”
“A woman never knows where she'll find her prince,” Lilibeth said airily. “But I'm only free until New Year's Eve. Harold Wynn is taking me out to the Flint Factory Ball!”
Ellie repressed a smile. Lilibeth had really come into her own since they'd returned to the U.S. But she insisted on keeping her own home in Flint, though she often spent weekends in New York visiting her grandchildren and shopping on Fifth Avenue. She'd become queen of her own town, driving all over in her yellow Ferrari, hosting Diogo at her house when he'd come to negotiate to buy the old factory.
He'd created a new subsidiary to sell specialty metals abroad, and decided Flint was the perfect location for the factory. As Ellie had been unwilling to travel much since the babies were born, Lilibeth had become his de facto hostess. She'd recently bought the biggest mansion on Main Street—the house that had gone on the market after Timothy Wright's shocking suicide.
“I never liked that man,” Lilibeth had told her gravely when she learned of his baby-selling business. “I told you all along to wait for your true love, Ellie. Aren't you glad you listened to me!”