A Christmas Proposition (Dallas Billionaires Club Book 3)

by Jessica Lemmon

  But her steps faltered as she grew closer and noticed that Emmett’s face was a mask of hard lines.

  “Yikes. What happened to you? Did Mrs. Morrison ask you for a donation for the city statue? She’s been hitting up everyone this evening. Dad had to tell her to stop twice.”

  Emmett watched her darkly, his jaw sawing back and forth before he opened his mouth and said something she never thought she’d hear. “I love that you love me.”

  His words were gravel laden and accompanied by a pained expression that didn’t match what she felt upon hearing them. She was...elated. Cloud nine wasn’t high enough. All the complicated feelings that arose whenever she was in bed with him or next to him in the car or at his side converged into one indelible fact: she was married and in love with her husband...and he was on the cusp of admitting he was in love with her, too.

  Her smile emerged, filling her with warmth, but his next words were ice-cold.

  “I want an annulment.”

  “An...annulment?”

  “Or a dissolution.” He gulped the scant bit of remaining liquid in his glass. “Whichever one means I want nothing from you.”

  “What are you talking about?” She was tempted to pinch herself to find out if she’d slipped into a dream. No, a nightmare. But this was real. As real as the guests at the party, who were carrying on their conversations and refilling their drinks as if Stefanie’s world wasn’t crumbling around her.

  Emmett had just told her he wanted nothing from her. How could that be when she wanted everything from him?

  “I don’t understand,” she tried again. “You don’t want to stay married to me?”

  She was missing something. Unless...

  “Did Zach threaten you? Did he—”

  “This is my decision, Stefanie.” Emmett’s tone was dry, his face set in stone. “I can’t let you continue in a marriage where you feel more for me than I’m capable of returning.”

  “I’m the one who decides that.” Her voice was thick with grief. Shaking with fear. The pain came next as realization set in.

  He was done with her. Done with them.

  “I agreed to marry you for one reason. It’s my job to protect you.”

  “Your job is to protect my brother, the mayor. Your right, your privilege, is to love the woman who loves you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes as the pain pummeled her with rapid-fire punches to the heart. Emmett’s expression told her all she needed to know. He didn’t love her. Not in the way she wanted—the way she needed. He felt loyalty to her because she was a Ferguson, because he was duty bound, but he was no closer to giving her his heart than before they were married.

  His next words eviscerated her.

  “It was a privilege to be yours.”

  The ugly flare of hope fizzled out instantaneously.

  Was.

  He was saying he wasn’t hers any longer.

  “You still don’t believe you’re worthy of me.” Tears trembled on the edge of her lashes. “I already told you—”

  “You don’t know all there is to know about me.” His angry tone cut into her. “I grew up as poor as the families in attendance at your charity Christmas dinners. My family wasn’t from a wealthy section of Dallas. Hell, we weren’t middle-class. I didn’t grow up in a fancy neighborhood with college savings. I lived in a house with a dilapidated roof, a termite problem and a yard the size of a stamp.”

  “Do you think I care where you came from?”

  “No. I don’t. And that’s the problem. I’m a man who can’t possibly be what you need me to be. You’re an heiress to the goddamn Ferguson fortune and I serve at the pleasure of the mayor of Dallas.”

  His raised voice carried on the air—no doubt the entire guest list had heard every word.

  “I love you for who you are, Emmett. Not for who you were.”

  He stepped forward and for one fleeting second she saw a dab of hope in his eyes. She sensed that he wanted to let go, lean in and commit to her forever and ever, amen.

  But that hope was dashed a second later.

  And his words were the final straw.

  “I’ll never not be the guy who lost half his family on Christmas day. I’ll never not be from a broken family and a poor home. I’ll never fit in at art shows where you spend tens of thousands of dollars on shit like that—” he gestured to the painting nearest him as a few guests let out astounded gasps “—rather than buy something for someone who needs it.” He sent a scathing look down her dress that made her feel self-conscious. “Your heart’s in the right place, Stefanie. You are giving and loving and care about people. But I’m not one of your charity cases. And I won’t stay in a marriage that never should have happened in the first place.”

  * * *

  Witnessing Stefanie’s rage was helping him through his speech. He wanted her angry. Anger, he could take. Anger, he knew what to do with. He’d been empowered by anger years ago. It’d driven him to become a strong man rather than curl up next to his father on the couch and gather dust. Anger was an action. And if Stef needed to be angry to accept what he was telling her, he’d gladly be her target.

  He’d warmed up for the felling blow, so he might as well get to it.

  “We’re nothing alike. You eat at five-hundred-dollars-per-plate charity auctions and buy dresses you wear once and replace all the furniture in your house because you had a bad day.”

  Stef blanched. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Chase breaking through the crowd and coming at him full steam ahead.

  Fine by Emmett; he was almost done.

  “We’re over. This. Is. Over.”

  She blinked and tears streamed down her face, but a diamond-hard glint shone in her eyes. His wife. So strong.

  “You can’t stand here and tell me you don’t feel anything.”

  He was tempted to lie to her but he couldn’t. Not even to spare her feelings. He valued her too much—and what she knew in her heart. After she’d worked this hard to be independent and gain confidence in herself, he wouldn’t rob her of it.

  “I didn’t feel enough.” His lip curled, his gut somersaulting as the anger faded from Stef’s expression and hurt replaced it. “I’ll send your things to your apartment.”

  He turned away before more tears spilled down Stefanie’s cheeks, but he heard the gut-wrenching sob that climbed her throat. It was enough to weaken his knees and his resolve—but he couldn’t afford to take it back.

  He’d done this for her.

  Grateful for Zach and Chase, Penelope and Miriam, Emmett left comforting Stefanie to her capable family. The Fergusons always tended to their own.

  It was a mistake to believe he ever could be one of them.

  Twenty-Four

  Annulment.

  No. Dissolution.

  That was what Emmett had asked for. Whichever one would leave them both blameless.

  Well, tough.

  Stefanie couldn’t stop blaming him. He was the one to blame! Another tear tumbled onto the cardboard box she was unpacking. Her things had arrived today via courier. She hadn’t left much at Emmett’s place. Only a few toiletries, sleepwear and—oh yeah—her stupid heart. She sifted through the box again, but there was no sign of the necessary organ.

  She’d entertained a few scenarios—one involving keying his SUV, another taking a baseball bat to the headlights in true Carrie Underwood fashion, but Stef’s rage had been eclipsed by pain.

  When they’d entered into a marriage it’d been with an understanding: that they would say “I do” and walk away when it was time. Now that he’d lured her in, made her love him and then took away her choice of staying, she regretted proposing. She couldn’t see an ounce of good that could come of his leaving her decimated in a roomful of her family and her family’s friends.

  She stopped rummaging through the
box, reminded by the shards of regret that her heart was right where it should be—eating a hole through her chest like battery acid. She hated herself for falling in love with him.

  A dissolution made the most sense. She’d been completely disillusioned by their marriage.

  After Emmett had left the party, her brothers and Penelope and Mimi surrounded Stef in a semicircle. Once they were sure she was okay, Chase had started for the door. She’d stopped him with a plea.

  “Chase, please don’t.”

  He’d turned to argue, but the anger in his expression quickly faded to concern for her.

  “Please,” she’d repeated.

  She didn’t need her brother taking up for her any longer. She didn’t need to cause any more problems like, oh, say, Chase punching out Emmett in her mother’s driveway. Besides, what good would it have done? It wouldn’t have changed Emmett’s mind. Just as she hadn’t been able to change his mind about loving her. About making their marriage work.

  And so Chase had stayed at the party and the Dallas Duchess didn’t have the scoop on the dysfunctional billionaire Fergusons stepping in it yet again.

  Stef was grateful for one thing—that Chase’s reputation was in fine standing. His campaign was in full swing, the polls in his favor. It looked like he would still be mayor come May...which couldn’t come soon enough.

  She longed to skip forward a few months. To pass over the valley of the shadow of hurt and arrive at a place of peace and acceptance.

  That kind of closure was an impossibility in three days’ time. It was impossible for three weeks’ time.

  Hopefully it’d be a distant memory in three months. It’d better not take longer than three months. If it did she was going to move to the mountains and live in a yurt.

  Emmett believed he didn’t belong with her, that he couldn’t love her the way she loved him. He’d been raised by a cold, disconnected father and evidently her soon-to-be ex-husband was a chip off the old ice block.

  “Can I top you off?” Mimi carried in a thermos of homemade hot cocoa. It was too early in the afternoon for wine, and the warmth and sweetness of the cocoa had set Stefanie’s innards at ease, if not her heart and mind. Warm innards would have to do.

  Chase and Miriam had stopped by to check on her and Stef was so glad to see them, she’d promptly burst into tears. At least they loved her.

  Chase carried in a tin of fancy homemade marshmallows. His eyebrows were bent in distress. Stef was the one problem he couldn’t seem to fix.

  “I’m so sorry, Chase.” Her chin wobbled but she refused to cry anymore. Emmett was testing her limits, but she was tougher than this.

  “Don’t apologize for anything.” His voice unyielding, as per his usual. The mayor of Dallas was nothing if not decisive.

  “Worry about yourself, babe.” That came from Miriam. She popped a marshmallow into her mouth as she sat next to Stefanie on the couch.

  “I’m going to his house. Do you have anything I need to drop off to him?”

  “Sure. You can give him this.” Stef held up her middle finger and Mimi chuckled.

  Chase’s smile was sad—sad for her.

  “I don’t have anything to say to the man who feels nothing for me.”

  “He didn’t say that,” Mimi said.

  “Close enough.” Stef slurped a melting marshmallow off the surface of her cocoa.

  Chase muttered something that sounded like “That thickheaded prick” before grabbing his coat off the back of a chair.

  “I don’t want him to love me because my big brother threatened him,” Stefanie told Chase.

  “He resigned as head of security yesterday,” he said. “I’m discussing that. Not you. I’m not interested in changing his mind if he feels nothing for you.”

  “You wouldn’t want him anywhere near me if he was madly in love with me, either,” she half joked.

  “That’s not true.” Chase’s eyes were narrowed, serious. “You deserve someone who knows your worth. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. An arranged marriage—worse, one for the sake of my campaign—isn’t what you deserve.” A flicker of guilt colored his handsome features.

  “Thank you.”

  “He’s been smarter since he realized he’s in love with me.” Mimi winked at Stef and then looked up at her fiancé with adoration.

  “You love him in equal measure, Mimi,” Stef said. “We all see it.”

  Stefanie’s heart ached for her own love lost at the same time it swelled to include the pure joy on her future sister-in-law’s face. Enough of this wallowing. Mourning what could’ve been was a waste of time. There was too much good in the world to celebrate.

  “Speaking of ‘I do’—” Stef set aside her cocoa and faced Mimi on her sofa “—let’s talk about your upcoming wedding. Have you found a dress? Who’s your planner? What color bridesmaid dress will I wear?”

  Mimi let out a sheepish laugh. “I do have wedding magazines in my purse...just in case.”

  “Good.” Stef smiled through her hurt, determined to feel good instead of lousy for a few minutes. “Let’s see them.”

  “I’ll be back to pick you up after...after,” Chase tacked on ominously before he kissed his future wife on the lips.

  “No fighting,” Stef warned him as he dropped a kiss on her forehead.

  But his smirk and wink before he walked out the door told her that her warning had fallen on deaf ears.

  Twenty-Five

  Emmett trudged into the kitchen and opened the fridge, studying the paltry offerings. A box of pizza from two nights ago was wedged onto the shelf, balanced on a carton that used to hold six bottles of beer but now held two. Besides pizza and beer he had some cheese—moldy; lunch meat—scary; and eggs—not expired.

  “Eggs for dinner, it is.” Carton in hand, he walked to the stovetop, but when he bent to grab a skillet from a low cabinet, the world slipped off its axis. At least his world did.

  That’d been happening a lot lately. It was like he was living on a damn Tilt-A-Whirl.

  Since he’d called it quits with Stefanie three nights ago, he’d found a new weight to haul around in place of the fear of not being enough for her. A heavy, burdensome load that sat in the pit of his stomach like a cannonball.

  Or a wrecking ball. That was how he felt.

  Fucking wrecked.

  All of a sudden his stomach soured at the idea of food. He shoved the carton of eggs back onto their shelf and reached for a beer at the same time his phone vibrated in his pocket.

  Chase.

  Emmett would finally face him. He’d expected his best friend to come sooner, and come in hot, his temper preceding him. Instead, Chase had accepted Emmett’s leaving without fanfare.

  It made sense. Chase had promised he’d choose Stefanie, which was what Emmett had wanted him to do. Emmett had emailed his resignation letter yesterday, which had solved another problem for his best friend. Chase wouldn’t be forced to fire his head of security.

  I’m in your driveway, the text read.

  Come in, Emmett typed back. He opened the fridge and pulled out a second bottle of beer, setting it beside the other and popping off the caps.

  Seconds later, Chase stepped into the kitchen and took one look at him, and his mouth flattened into a mirthless line.

  “I opened you a beer.” Emmett gestured, but before he had a chance to lift his own bottle and suck down half its contents, pain bloomed over his left cheekbone in a neon flash.

  Blinking, he palmed his face and stared in astonishment at his houseguest. Chase’s face was neutral, and if he hadn’t been shaking out his hand, Emmett would’ve sworn he’d imagined the sucker punch.

  “Should’ve expected your head to be that hard after what you pulled with Stef.” Chase winced as he flexed his hand.

  Emmett blinked, his vision finally cle
aring. “Expected this three days ago. You’re late.”

  “My baby sister is in tears and it’s your fault.”

  Emmett’s chest caved in. “Still?”

  He hated that she’d cried—that she was still crying. And because of him? Shouldn’t she be over him by now, or at the very least shouldn’t she accept that she’d dodged a bullet?

  Chase came toward him, but Emmett was ready this time. Emmett ducked and Chase’s fist swiped the air. Emmett landed a clumsy sock to Chase’s gut, but it hit hard enough that Emmett steadied his best friend when it took the wind from his lungs.

  Chase recovered quickly, ramming Emmett in the belly with his shoulder and smashing his back against the stainless steel fridge door.

  “You son of a bitch.” Chase pressed his forearm against Emmett’s throat. “Do you have any idea what you cost her? What you took from her? And for what? So you could fuck her?”

  Incensed, Emmett traded their positions, pressing Chase’s back to the fridge. He raised his fist, poised to ruin the mayor’s perfect nose, but then stopped cold, the taste of blood—or maybe that wrecking ball weight of regret—sobering him.

  Chase was his best friend, but Emmett hadn’t told him the truth.

  Hell, Emmett had only recently admitted the truth to himself.

  He lowered his hand and unwound his fist from Chase’s shirt.

  “Go on. Finish what you came here to do.” He backed away a step so Chase could come for him. It’d be no less than what he deserved. “I realized the truth I was in denial about the moment I stepped into this house and she wasn’t in it.”

  Chase, chest heaving and unspent anger simmering in his eyes, paused long enough to ask, “What truth was that?”

  “I gave up the best thing that ever happened to me. But I did it because I would never make her choose between her family or me. I’ve never loved someone the way I love her. Like she’s my sun. My reason to wake up. Warmth coming at me from all angles. Without her I’m in the shadows and so cold... She loves me, too. She told me and then I had to let her go.”