Million Dollar Christmas Bride - A Billionaire Romance

by Holly Rayner

  “But I don’t want to see you get married like this,” Helen insisted. “Marriage is about true, lasting love between two people, Bianca.”

  “I know that,” Bianca said. She emitted a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through her hair. As she knew would be the case, her mom was making valid points.

  “Mom, I do want to marry for love one day. It will happen… down the road. It’s not like this thing with Jackson will go on forever. He said that once his mother…” She lowered her tone to a whisper, “passes on… then we’ll file for divorce.” It always felt wrong to discuss death in a nursing home. She hoped that the topic didn’t offend her mother.

  Helen didn’t flinch. “That sounds like a very uncertain timeline to me,” she said. “What if that takes years? It may be that you’re not free from this manipulative man’s grasp until you’re nearing forty. Then what? It might be too late to have children.”

  “He’s not manipulative,” Bianca said. She found that she felt defensive of Jackson, though she barely knew him. “He’s actually really sweet. He hasn’t pressured me into any of this. I’ve said yes of my own volition.”

  “Then you could say no at any time, too,” Helen said. “Is that right? He hasn’t paid you yet, has he?”

  “No, not yet,” Bianca admitted. “I’m supposed to meet with him tomorrow to sign a contract.”

  She drew in a deep breath and let her mother’s concerns wash over her. Deep down, the issue of her age had been bothering her, too. Like an infected tooth, it caused a soreness that she couldn’t quite ignore, no matter how hard she tried.

  I want children, she thought. Is this deal with Jackson going to take away my chance to raise a family, with a man I love—and a man who loves me? I’ll be so busy pretending to be in a relationship that I won’t have the chance to actually have one?

  She stood up and walked along the perimeter of the small room to the one window. It looked out on a not-so-stunning view of the gray cement parking structure nearby.

  She had to put words to another ache, deep in her soul, but she wasn’t sure how to do it.

  Finally, she realized that no matter how she phrased her inquiry, it was still going to lead to a difficult conversation. She decided to just dive in, with the hopes that maybe, just maybe, if she told her mom what was on her mind, the ache inside might go away.

  “Mom, you weren’t in love with Dad when you married him, were you?” she asked. She had her back to her mom. After posing the question, she turned slowly. “I mean, I was born six months after your wedding day—I saw the license in your bedroom closet one day. You guys… you got married because of me, didn’t you?”

  “That was our mistake,” Helen said solemnly. “And no, there was no love lost when we parted ways.”

  “Then how can you advise me to marry for love? You married Dad for practical reasons. And even after he split, you didn’t marry again. Why not?”

  “I had you,” Helen said, “and you were the only companion I needed. My life was filled to the brim—I didn’t need a man. Sure, there were times I wished I had a partner, but more often than not I was happiest on my own.”

  “Maybe that’s how I am, too,” Bianca said. “Better off on my own. Maybe that’s why none of my relationships have worked out. I’m thirty-four, Mom… Even if I said no to Jackson, chances are good that I still wouldn’t meet a guy that I was ready to tie the knot with. I haven’t yet, so why should I think it will happen in the next five years? There’s something wrong with me. It’s like I’m broken.”

  “Sweetie, you’re not broken,” Helen said in a hushed tone. “You have a beautiful soul. Maybe you just have some work to do when it comes to relationships. They’re not easy, you know. And I suppose I have to take some responsibility. I wasn’t the best role model for you, and for that I’m sorry.”

  Bianca felt herself coming close to tears, and she didn’t like it. She lifted her chin slightly and looked back out through the window, at the cement structure beyond. “You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “You were an excellent role model. You taught me how to be strong and independent… and the person I am today.”

  She lifted a finger to her eye and pressed her lower lid in slightly to stop tears from welling up. She had no idea where this burst of emotion was coming from, and it made her slightly uncomfortable. “I just… I don’t know if I’m going to find love. And a million dollars is too good of an offer to pass up. I’m going to say yes, Mom. This might be the best chance at happiness I’m going to have. I have to take it.”

  “Okay, honey,” Helen said. “If that’s how you feel, then I’m not going to stop you. And for what it’s worth, I do appreciate the way you look out for me. You’re an amazing daughter, Bianca. I’m so very proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Bianca said. She turned and walked to the bed. As she wrapped her arms around her mom’s neck, she felt the dampness of salty tears. At first, she thought they were her own. It took her a moment to realize that her mother was crying, too.

  Bianca wasn’t sure if they were happy tears of relief, due to the fact that her days in the nursing home were soon to be over—or if they were tears of grief over the future that Bianca was about to sign away.

  She pulled away and handed her mother a box of tissues. Then, she changed the subject back to soup recipes. She’d had about all of the emotional conversation she could handle for one day. As Helen dried her tears, Bianca worked on holding back her own.

  “So, what’s this recipe you wanted to give me?” she asked, pointing to the pile of cut-outs that still lay on the table before Helen.

  “Oh, yes,” Helen said, as she finished drying her cheeks. “It’s for homemade autumn soup. Let me see if I can find it…”

  Chapter 10

  Bianca

  “And this is the last one,” Jackson said, as he added a thick, stapled chunk of paper to the top of the pile in front of Bianca. “An NDA that basically says you’re going to keep the details of our arrangement between us.”

  “NDA?” Bianca asked, unsure of what the acronym meant. She picked the packet up and leafed through it quickly, to get a feel for how many pages it was. At least twenty, she thought as she set it back onto the pile.

  “Non-disclosure agreement,” Jackson explained. “My lawyer got very specific in it, but that’s because he’s a show-off.” He gave Bianca a friendly wink and leaned back in his chair. “Really, it should be standard confidentiality terms.”

  “I’ll start… um… reading,” Bianca said, eyeing the massive stack of papers.

  She felt completely overwhelmed. Jackson had already handed her a contract and a prenup, along with several other forms that she’d barely grasped the meaning of. This was more paperwork than she’d had to fill out when buying her house or getting hired at Riverside Assisted Living.

  On one hand, she was glad that Jackson was acting like a professional and clearly laying out the details of what she was signing up for. On the other, the thought of reading the pages and pages of minuscule text made her head spin. The simple “yes” that she’d uttered in the dog park was about to become a complex agreement that would affect an undetermined amount of years of her life—possibly several years or more.

  Jackson seemed to pick up on her hesitancy. “Could I get you a coffee or something?” he asked.

  “No, no thank you,” she said, while reaching for the fountain pen he’d placed by the stack. “This might take me a while to get through. I hope you don’t mind if I camp out here for a little while.”

  “Take all the time you need,” Jackson said. He stood up from the high-backed leather chair behind his desk. “I’ll give you some space. If you need anything, just pop your head out the door and my secretary will see that you get assistance.”

  With that, he left the room.

  Bianca began with the first page of the NDA and worked her way through the document. It outlined the various media outlets on which she was to refrain from “spilling the secret”—wh
ich basically included every means of communication under the sun.

  She started skimming whole paragraphs, but then chided herself for her impatience. I have to read every word, she thought. Even if it’s tedious.

  She was happy that Nicky had called earlier that day to ask for a schedule change. Nicky had offered to take Bianca’s night shift in exchange for getting Bianca to cover hers later in the week.

  Though Bianca had planned on being in Jackson’s office for under an hour, it was nearing six by the time she finished reading and signing the last document. She’d been alone in Jackson’s office for two whole hours.

  Once she capped the pen, she stood up and stretched. Her whole body was stiff, and her mind was filled to the brim with legal terms and jargon.

  Figuring that Jackson had ducked out, bored with waiting for her to finish, she exited his office while texting him to let him know that the papers were all signed and on his desk. She was still mid-text when she heard his voice emanating from a conference room a few doors down.

  “Three more times, or even four. Whatever it takes, guys,” Jackson said, in his sweet, deep Southern drawl. “I want to knock this ad campaign out of the park. We’ve got to keep testing until it’s perfect. If that means hiring more focus groups, that’s what we’ll do. Our clientele in these states won’t be the same as any we’ve worked with before. We need to speak their language. It has to be perfect.”

  She peeked around the open doorway and caught sight of Jackson standing at the front of a room. A whiteboard hung on the wall behind him, filled with numbers and charts. A half dozen employees sat around the table, taking notes on laptops while Jackson spoke.

  At the sight of Bianca, Jackson stopped talking. He smiled and gave her a wink. “All set in there?” he asked.

  She nodded, feeling slightly self-conscious as heads around the room turned to examine her. “Yes, all set. The papers are on your desk.”

  “Great,” Jackson said warmly. Then to his team he said. “That’s a wrap, folks. Let’s get back to it later this week. Can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

  He walked toward Bianca. The employees spoke softly to one another as they packed laptops up into cases. Bianca noticed at least two of the women in the room give her envious glances. It was clear they wished that Jackson would look at them in the way that he was currently looking at Bianca.

  He really is giving me quite a look, Bianca realized, as Jackson strode toward her. His eyes held attraction, longing, and desire. He was walking toward her as if she was a familiar person in his life, and someone that he wanted—very badly—to see.

  “You didn’t have to end your meeting for me,” Bianca said when he joined her at the door.

  “Of course I did. We’re entering into a business agreement together. I think we should go seal the deal with some drinks—celebrate that stack of papers you just signed.”

  “A beer would be nice,” Bianca admitted. Maybe a drink would wash away some of the legal jargon that crowded the corners of her brain. “And I could use a bite to eat, too.”

  “I know just the place,” Jackson said. “It’s right down the block. The beers are cold, the food is hot, and the service is friendly.”

  “Can’t beat that,” Bianca said.

  As they rode the elevator down to the first floor, Jackson asked her what she thought about the papers she’d read over. She found it easy to fill him in on her thoughts—she appreciated his professionalism, but some of the scenarios mentioned were entirely unlikely and seemed ridiculous to prohibit.

  “Of course I’m not going to write a book about what we’re doing,” she said in a hushed tone as they crossed the lobby and exited out onto the street. “I barely like to write birthday cards. Why would I write a novel?”

  “I asked my team to be thorough,” Jackson said with a laugh. “And they were. Thanks for going through all that. Hey, how did Peaches do after her playdate on Sunday? Rufus was beat. He slept like a log that night.”

  “Peaches never sleeps soundly,” Bianca said. “I think it’s because she’s addicted to cuddling. She wiggles all over the bed until her head is right under my hand, no matter how I’m positioned. I’ve practically learned to pet her in my sleep.”

  For the next few minutes, Bianca continued to fill Jackson in on her dog’s quirks, and he laughed, asked questions, and told her about a few of Rufus’s odd habits, too.

  When he turned left at the end of the block, Bianca recognized her surroundings. “Hey, I didn’t realize your headquarters were so close to Kirkwood Avenue. One of my favorite bars is on this block!”

  “Really?” Jackson said. “It does have a few great places. My go-to hangout is just down the way. It’s awesome because they allow dogs in the outside area.”

  Bianca had to laugh. “You’re talking about Corner Bar, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Jackson said with a grin. “It’s a great place. Rufus loves it.”

  Bianca shook her head and smiled. “That’s the bar I was talking about! I go there all the time. How is it that I’ve never seen you there?”

  She felt her mood elevating due to the coincidence. What were the chances that of all the restaurants and bars in Memphis, she and Jackson frequented the same one? And how in the world had she not caught sight of him before? His good looks were eye-catching, to say the least.

  They reached the bar’s entrance, and Jackson didn’t pause before leading the way to a table that was positioned to the left of the entryway. The table was at the far end of the seating area and looked out at the street. He perched on one of the tall chairs as if he owned it; it was clear he’d taken the same position hundreds, maybe thousands of times.

  And just like that, Bianca knew why she’d never seen him at the bar before.

  She giggled as she took a seat opposite him at the table. “You always sit over here, don’t you?” she said.

  “What can I say?” He shrugged and reached for a laminated slip of paper that was perched between bottles of condiments in the center of the table. “I’m a creature of habit, I guess. Rufus likes to be out here in the fresh air.”

  “And he’d probably dislike being around the corner, at a table that looks out on the river,” Bianca said with a grin. “That’s where Peaches and I always sit. She can’t handle being over here, close to the street.”

  Jackson tilted his head back and gave a hearty guffaw. “Of course!” he said, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down as he chuckled. He looked out at the sidewalk that formed a border between the bar’s outdoor seating and the street. “All these skateboards and bikes… your Peaches would go nuts ’cause of the wheels, hm?”

  Bianca nodded. “And Rufus would bark at the water.”

  Jackson leaned forward. “So you’re telling me that we’ve been here—to this very place—probably at the same time, yet we didn’t meet because of our dogs?”

  Bianca had to laugh. “That’s right. What a missed opportunity!”

  “You got that right,” Jackson said. “All those beers I had with my boys, or on my own—and the whole time, I could’ve been in your company…?” He shook his head. “Man. I was missing out.”

  Bianca felt her cheeks heat up. It was one thing to exchange friendly banter with Jackson, but another to accept a compliment from him—especially a compliment that was so charged with meaning. The way he leaned forward and spoke in a low, intimate tone that only she could hear made a shiver of pleasure run up her spine.

  He shifted back, but his eyes lingered, and she couldn’t look away from his gaze. In a flash, she felt the heat of attraction that she’d first felt for him welling up inside of her.

  Just like that, all of the legal jargon she’d consumed in his office faded from her mind. All she could think about was how gorgeous the man before her was.

  And I’m here, sitting across from him, she thought, her heart swelling with gratitude. I’m the luckiest woman in this bar. Heck, I’m the luckiest woman in Memphis—or maybe even in the c
ountry!

  Her cheeks burned and she looked down to the table. The edge of the laminated menu slid into her line of sight, followed by Jackson’s tanned, large hand.

  “Take a peek,” he said. “I’m sure you know the beers they have on tap, but it looks like they have a Holiday special.”

  Bianca scanned the page and saw that Jackson was right. The “Ho Ho Hops” beer was described as a “winter ale that will warm you to the core, with slightly bitter hops in contrast with rich, malt overtones.”

  “Sounds good,” she said, as if she really cared about the flavor of the beer she was about to order. How could she care about such a thing, when all of her senses were so overwhelmed with Jackson’s presence? She wanted to take in every gesture he made: the light touch of his fingers grazing the brim of his baseball hat; the way his muscles rippled beneath his tee every time he leaned against the table; the faint smell of his cologne, which was becoming tantalizingly familiar to her.

  When a server breezed toward them in the casual way that the Corner Bar staff usually worked, Jackson held up a hand. “Two of the Ho Ho Hops,” he said.

  The server smiled and winked. “You got it, Mr. Wylde,” he said quickly, before passing by.

  “This place is a far cry from the Heritage Manor,” Bianca couldn’t help but note, just as a group of college students erupted with rowdy laughter at a table nearby. “I can’t believe you hang out here.”

  “I like the atmosphere,” Jackson said. “I told you—I’m a simple guy at heart.”

  “I thought that over,” Bianca admitted. “And I’m not sure I believe you.” Her tone was light and flirtatious, and she stole a glance at Jackson through her lashes as she placed the drink menu back between the ketchup and mustard. “You were raised with all sorts of privileges, I bet. Private school, I’m guessing.”

  He nodded. “I went to Bertram Woods, over near Castleton.”

  Bianca uttered a dramatic moan. “A Bertram Woods boy!” she said with a laugh. “We had a few names for you guys, at my public school. They’re not friendly so I won’t repeat them here.”