Fairytale Christmas with the Millionaire

by Jennifer Faye

  It was already dark out but the inky black sky was clear—the big moon hovered overhead but there were too many lights in Manhattan for her to make out the stars.

  A black sedan rolled to a stop in front of the Stirling. The driver got out and opened her door for her. She had no idea when Graham said he’d send a car that it would be chauffeur driven. She’d thought he’d meant he would send a taxi to pick her up. She climbed in. This black high-end sedan with tinted windows was quite a few steps up from a taxi. As her hand ran over the buttery-soft black leather seat, she realized it was way out of her league. With this sort of luxury, no wonder Mr. Toliver couldn’t understand how an old building could mean so much to so many people.

  She glanced down at her little black dress, the one she’d almost refused to wear. She was thankful Meg had been so insistent on her dressing up. Like it or not, if she wanted Mr. Toliver to take her seriously, jeans and a casual sweater weren’t going to do the trick.

  And maybe some inside information would help. “Excuse me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the driver said.

  “Do you drive regularly for Mr. Toliver?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We should be there in five minutes.”

  “Thanks. But what I was wondering is, what is Mr. Toliver like?” She had no idea if the driver would speak to her about his employer, but it was worth a try because time was running out before everyone at the Stirling was out on the street.

  “Mr. Toliver is the best boss I’ve ever had.”

  Now, that shocked her. Sure, she expected the man to say something nice about his boss. After all, he had his job to protect, but this man went above and beyond, saying that Graham was the best.

  Maybe it was just that the man didn’t know Mr. Toliver well enough. “How long have you worked for him?”

  “I’ve worked for him and his family for eleven years.”

  Okay. So that wasn’t the issue. Maybe it was that the man hadn’t worked as a driver for anyone else and had no one to compare him to. “And before you became the Tolivers’ driver what did you do?”

  “I’ve been a driver since I graduated high school. My father owns a fleet of cars for hire. But once I started driving for the Tolivers, they requested me regularly. And then one day, the Tolivers hired me full-time. I’ve been with the family ever since. Mr. Graham is good people. Do right by him and he’ll do right by you.”

  Alina was floored. She really wanted some dirt on the man. She wanted every reason to dislike him. After all, he was taking away her home. And then there was this man who was more than willing to sing the man’s praises.

  But that couldn’t be the truth. She’d read some articles online about the Toliver company being ruthless in business. That was the man she needed him to be so they could go to war over the apartment building. So what if the driver had a different view of Toliver. It didn’t mean it was the right view.

  The car dropped her off in front of the Diamond Building and she stepped out onto the cleared sidewalk. She lifted her head, trying to see the top of the building. It rose higher and higher until the top floors got lost in the night sky. This man owned all of this? Wow.

  Not that she was going to let herself be impressed. He owned all of this because he plowed over people’s hopes, dreams and homes to be the biggest and the best.

  The uniformed guard behind the impressive reception desk directed her to an elevator that took her to the top floor. She’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t nervous. There wasn’t one thing about this evening that didn’t lead her to believe this man had untold power, from his fancy chauffeured car to his company’s impressive building. But none of that was going to stop her from speaking her mind.

  Graham Toliver might have a lot of power and even more money but he needed to be reminded that his actions had consequences. And though she’d much rather be at home watching a romantic comedy on television while eating Chinese takeout on the couch, she would stand here in her rarely worn little black dress and black heels. She would speak her mind. And she hoped he would really hear her.

  She could do this. She thought of all the people in the building who were counting on her to save their homes. She had to do this.

  The elevator dinged and then the door rolled back to reveal a big white lobby with a crystal chandelier. Whatever this place was, it was meant to impress people. She was impressed. But it wouldn’t deter her from fighting for her home—for her family.

  There was only one doorway, so she headed toward it. It was a long hallway that opened into a great room. The walls were black and the floor was white marble. It was quite stunning. And she was starting to suspect that she was in the wrong place.

  The room was empty except for one long solitary table. But where was Mr. Toliver?

  “You came.”

  The male voice had her turning to the left and there stood Graham Toliver. He was wearing the same charcoal suit and blue shirt that he’d been wearing earlier that day. How was it that he still looked as fresh as he had hours ago? If she’d have worn the same thing all day, it would look utterly disheveled.

  And yet Mr. Toliver stood before her looking like he’d just stepped off the pages of a glossy fashion magazine. And for a moment, her mind stuttered. In that moment, she forgot he was the enemy. And for the briefest second, she imagined what it might be like to meet the man for a dinner date. Her heart picked up its pace. Oh, yes, he would make some lady very happy. But it wasn’t to be her. Her feet came back down to earth.

  “Of course I came,” she said, blinking away her daydream. “We have things to discuss.”

  He approached her. His eyes were dark and unreadable. “Yes, we do. Please come this way.”

  She wanted to ask him where they were going, but she resisted the urge. She had no doubt it would be his office. His very big, very impressive office where he would try to bulldoze over her with what he needed and what he wanted.

  “Come in,” he said.

  “What is this?” She glanced around.

  “This is a conference room. All of the walls are removable so that the top floor can hold everyone in the office. It’s where we host guest speakers and hold training seminars. But for tonight, I had them shrink the size of the room. I hope it’s adequate.”

  “It’s very nice.” She was drawn to the wall of windows.

  She gazed out over Manhattan, which at the moment twinkled with all of the city lights. “I don’t know how you get any work done here. I’d be staring out the window all of the time.”

  He moved next to her. He was so close that she could reach out and touch him, not that she would, or anything, but her pulse raced just being so close to him. It was though an energy force pulsated off him.

  “It’s an amazing view.” His voice was deep and rich, sending waves of awareness throughout her body.

  She had to concentrate on anything but how her body responded to him. “Too bad you can’t see the Christmas tree in Times Square.”

  “I’m afraid not. I take it you like that sort of thing.”

  “You mean getting into the Christmas spirit?” When he nodded, she asked, “Doesn’t everyone enjoy the holidays?”

  “No.”

  She turned to him and recalled their discussion at the restaurant. “That’s right. You hate Christmas?”

  “Hate might be a bit strong, but I could live without it.” He cleared his throat. “However, that’s not what you’re here to discuss.”

  She looked at him, taking in his serious expression. She felt bad for him and his complete lack of holiday spirit. She wanted to dislike this man. After all, he was tearing down her home, but there was a part of her that felt sorry for him. What had happened to him that he’d lost his joy of the season? Or was it possible he’d never been excited about Christmas?

  An image of Graham as a little boy flashed in her mind. She just
couldn’t believe a man who came from a wealthy background would have been deprived on Christmas morning. There had to be a story there, but she resisted the urge to ask him about it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE ROOM WAS devoid of Christmas decorations.

  No tree. No twinkle lights. Nothing.

  What was up with that? Maybe they didn’t have a chance to get them out yet. It was still a few weeks before Christmas. Alina’s gaze moved about the room with its immaculate presentation and perfectly arranged wall hangings. It felt cold and sterile.

  It was then that she noticed the soft sound of music. She listened closely, expecting it to be a holiday tune. It wasn’t. Interesting. Instead, big band music played. It was nice but not what she had been playing on her radio. From now until Christmas, she was listening to Christmas carols 24/7. There was just something about those festive tunes that put an extra pep in her step.

  Graham moved to a small table. She followed, finding two black, thickly cushioned chairs placed on opposite ends of the small table. In the center was a white tapered candle. Its flame flickered. And there were two place settings of what looked to be real china. A private dinner for two?

  Alina’s heart pitter-pattered. Was this the way Mr. Toliver conducted all of his meetings? She doubted it. She didn’t see him sitting across a candlelit table from a businessman to discuss a future deal. So why was he treating her different?

  Immediately she wondered if he was interested in her. And just as quickly she dismissed the foolish notion. Why would he be interested in her? He didn’t even know her. Worst of all, she was standing in his way of demolishing her apartment building. And she intended to keep on impeding his progress as much as possible.

  So what was up with this dinner? Was he hoping some candlelight and good food would sway her? Did he think she’d be that easy? If so, he had another thought coming.

  “Mr. Toliver—”

  “Please call me Graham.”

  His friendly gesture wasn’t going to soften her up. “All right. Graham, I thought you wanted to talk business.”

  “As a busy man, I multitask.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “Since it is my dinnertime, I thought we would eat while we talk.”

  She didn’t know how she felt about sitting down to a meal with the enemy. Still, at last she’d made it past his bulldog of an assistant, who had previously not let her move beyond the reception area. Perhaps some food might make him more congenial.

  “Mr.—er, I mean Graham, our business shouldn’t take all that long.”

  “Then we should begin the meal.” He signaled to the server standing across the room.

  “Please sit down.” He pulled out a chair for her.

  Part of her was still hesitant, but she knew it wouldn’t help her cause. And without changing his mind about his proposed building site, she would be homeless in the new year.

  She approached him. “Thank you.” As he waited to help push in her chair, she said, “I’ve got it.”

  His eyes momentarily widened, but in a blink his reaction faded. “I didn’t expect you to make this easy on me, but do we have to spend the evening in constant opposition? You don’t even know me well enough to dislike me that much.”

  It was true. She didn’t know anything about him, except what she’d gleaned on the internet. She hadn’t even found a current photo of him, just something from when he was in college with long shaggy hair and a beard. Now his thick dark hair was clipped short around the sides with some longer curls on top. And his sun-kissed face was clean-shaven. The images of him then and now certainly didn’t look anything alike.

  This was the first time she realized how defensive she’d let herself become. She didn’t like the thought that she’d changed so much and not for the good.

  Maybe that had played a part in the reason she hadn’t had a date in quite a while. Not that this was a date. Far from it.

  She had been once bitten by her ex and now she was twice shy. People she could rely on—people she could trust—were hard to find. And she certainly didn’t trust Mr. Designer Suit with his billion-dollar smile. He would say and do most anything to get her to move. And it wasn’t going to happen—not without a fight.

  Graham took a seat across the small table from her. Lifting her gaze, she took in his strong jawline, his straight nose and those very observant eyes. She wondered if he’d been studying her, as well.

  When he smiled, her stomach dipped. She caught herself just before she smiled back at him. After all, she didn’t trust him. Not at all.

  Or was it herself that she worried about the most. All it took was for him to smile for her to forget that they were here to do business.

  “So why do you have to build where the Stirling stands?” She wanted to get to the heart of the problem, hoping to find an alternative solution.

  “You don’t waste time getting to the point, do you?” He stared at her as though not quite sure what to make of her.

  “These days I don’t have time to waste.”

  “In that we have something in common.”

  She honestly didn’t see where they had anything in common. She lived in a modest apartment while he sat here in one of the finest buildings in Manhattan—a building she’d heard he owned. And yet he longed for another building—a bigger one—a new one. No, they had no common ground.

  “I doubt we have anything in common,” she said.

  Interest flared in his eyes. “Is that a challenge?”

  A challenge? “No. It’s a fact.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Do you know how much time and effort goes into running a business of this size?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so or you wouldn’t say something so careless.”

  She paused for just a moment, letting things settle. “I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t work hard.”

  “It certainly sounded like it.”

  She shook her head. This conversation had gotten off track. “Maybe we should get back to the reason I’m here.”

  His jaw visibly tightened as a tense silence filled the air. Then he nodded. “If you think that by us having this meeting means I’ll change my mind about the fate of the Stirling, it isn’t going to happen.”

  She didn’t like that he could read her thoughts. She let his words hang in the air without a response. And then she once more asked, “Why do you have to tear down the Stirling?”

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but my company already owns some of the surrounding properties.”

  “So you figured why not buy more and level the place?”

  “It’s a matter of using assets to their full value.”

  As she looked at him, she noticed there was something else in his eyes. Was that sorrow? Or perhaps regret? She couldn’t be certain.

  And what did he mean by their full value? She considered asking for clarification, but she already knew enough about him to realize he wouldn’t be very forthcoming.

  Just then the server returned with crystal stemware filled with shaved ice topped with a half dozen jumbo shrimp, a lemon wedge and cocktail sauce. It wasn’t until it was in front of her that she realized she hadn’t stopped to eat since that morning.

  And then the rumble of her stomach filled the air. The heat of embarrassment swirled in her and rushed to her face, setting her cheeks on fire. She hesitated to eat, even if her mouth watered just looking at the food.

  “Go ahead.” Graham unfolded his white linen napkin. “Eat.”

  He didn’t have to tell her twice. She was so hungry she could have woofed down the appetizer in no time, but she mustered her restraint, not wanting to give Graham a bad impression of her.

  Between courses, Graham said, “Why are you fighting so hard to save an old building? That place quite honestly could use some updati
ng.”

  Her mouth opened but her mind was unable to keep up with her rapidly firing fragments of outrage. She pressed her lips together as she formulated a cohesive response. “It’s more than an old building. And what you might call flaws, I call charm.”

  “I know it’s your home now, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make a home somewhere else.”

  Before she could respond, their salads and fresh baked bread were served. They quietly ate but all the while her mind was spinning so much so that she didn’t even notice what she was eating.

  She had to convince Graham that the Stirling was so much more than brick and mortar. But how? And why would he think that homes were so easily interchangeable? Was that the way all rich people thought?

  Alina’s fork hovered over her salad plate. “The Stirling is irreplaceable. It is full of family and friends.”

  “Nothing that can’t be found somewhere else.”

  She inwardly groaned. He wasn’t hearing her, not the way she needed him to hear her. If her words weren’t enough, she needed to show him what the Stirling meant to her and its residents.

  “Is that how you feel about your home?”

  He took a sip of ice water. When he returned the stemmed glass to the table, he said, “I like where I live, but if there was a compelling reason to move, I’d do it without making a big deal out of it.”

  She looked at him in disbelief. “I think it’s easier said than done.”

  “Are you doubting me?” His eyes challenged her.

  She leveled her shoulders and lifted her chin ever so slightly. “I am.”

  His brown eyes grew dark as a muscle in his cheek twitched. “You presume to know me, but I don’t care how much you’ve read about me, you still know nothing about me.”

  But that wasn’t exactly true. She could see that he was a man who rose to a challenge. It was knowledge she intended to use to her advantage.

  The main course consisted of a pasta dish served with marinara sauce and topped with fresh herbs. On the side was chicken parmesan with a thin but crispy coating and some steamed vegetables. It looked delicious and tasted even better.