Christmas With the Billionaire: A Sexy Billionaire Christmas Romance (The Young Billionaires Book 6)

by Emma Lea

  She walked toward him, swinging her hips seductively. He growled low in his throat, already hard. She pressed her naked body against him and slung her arms around his shoulders. She rubbed herself up and down his body and then stopped, her eyebrows drawing together before standing back. Before he could stop her, she slipped her hand into his pocket and drew out the box.

  “Blake?” she asked, looking up at him as she sank down on the edge of the bed.

  “You weren’t supposed to see that yet,” he said.

  Her eyes were wide and she looked freaked out. Blake wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “Fuck it,” he said, dropping to his knees in front of her. He took the box from her hands and then folded her fingers in his. “You know I love you, right?” he said.

  She nodded.

  “And you love me.”

  She nodded again.

  “The truth is, Slim, you’re it for me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it and I know it’s only been a couple of months but I know what I know.”

  “What do you know?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper.

  “I know that I want you to be my wife. Marry me, Slim. Make me the happiest man alive and say yes.”

  He opened the box, revealing a ridiculously large diamond ring.

  “Are you serious right now?” she yelled. “I’m naked!”

  “It wasn’t supposed to go down like this,” he said. “But you went snooping where you weren’t supposed to, so this is what you get. A naked proposal.”

  “You really want to marry me?” she asked, her voice vulnerable.

  “I really do,” he said.

  She bit her lip and looked down at the ring. “I want to marry you too,” she said, her eyes going suspiciously glassy.

  “Thank fuck,” he breathed before kissing her.

  He slipped the ring on her finger and then tumbled her back onto the bed. “Text your parents. I don’t think we’ll be getting there tonight.”

  She laughed and rolled them over so she straddled him. “You’re wearing too many clothes, Hotshot,” she said.

  He flipped them again so she was under him and kissed her before pushing off the bed. He tossed her phone to her. “Text your parents,” he said again. “Tell them we’ll be there in the morning.”

  “Not until you show me some skin,” she said, leaning back on her elbows and watching him from heavy eyes.

  He pulled his shirt off and tossed it. He rested his hands on the button of his jeans but didn’t undo them. “No more until you send that text.”

  “I have a better idea,” she said, crawling to her knees and pulling him down on the bed beside her. She held her hand up in front of them and snapped a photo of the ring. She sent the photo to her mother and then silenced the phone. “I think they’ll get the hint,” she said.

  He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. “I love you Zoë.”

  “I love you too, Blake.”

  He would never get tired of hearing those words from her lips. He kissed her again and knew he’d found his family, finally.

  Do you want to know more about Flynn and The Playbook?

  Book 1 - In Like Flynn is available now!

  Keep reading to get a sneak peek of Chapter 1

  Do you want a bonus Blake & Zoë story?

  Click on the link on the next page to sign up for my newsletter and get a link to all my bonus content!

  *P.S. If you’re already get my newsletter,

  then check your inbox for the link*

  Alcohol, getting dumped, and a smart phone were not a good mix.

  Peyton Sheppard thought her world was just weeks away from being perfect. The future she had always dreamed about was within her grasp - the perfect guy, the perfect wedding, the perfect house in the suburbs. That was until her fiancé ran off and married a Las Vegas showgirl.

  To say she was a bit miffed was perhaps an understatement. Still, an ill-advised video uploaded to Facebook shouldn’t have meant the end of her life as she knew it.

  Flynn Devereaux loved his life just the way it was, thank you very much. He was not at all impressed when his editor insisted he do a blog series on the woman whose meltdown went viral. The absolute last thing he needed - or wanted - was to try and get her to fall in love with him because of some ridiculous bet made on national television. But what was a guy to do? A challenge was a challenge and maybe he could limit the humiliation that was sure to follow both of them during the fallout of said challenge.

  He didn’t believe in love or happily-ever-after and she was done with the whole husband, marriage, white picket fence thing so there was no chance of either of them falling in love…

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at In Like Flynn.

  Available now.

  In Like Flynn

  Chapter One

  Peyton struggled to get through her front door. The over-stuffed garment bag containing the ridiculously large Cinderella costume got wedged between her and the door jamb, tangling with her oversized messenger bag and the bag of Thai food she had gripped in the same hand. In her other hand was her phone - which had been buzzing furiously - and her front door key. She managed to burst into the room, the kinetic energy making her stumble as she was shot through the tiny opening like a projectile ejected from a spitball pipe. She managed to keep herself - and her Thai food - from hitting the floor, but the keys, phone and garment bag all went flying. The messenger bag would have too if it hadn't been strapped across her body.

  “Fuck!” she yelled to no one in particular.

  There was no one to hear her scream anyway. She lived alone. Technically. Her fiancé stayed most nights in her apartment - not that he paid rent for the privilege - but he hadn't been there for a few weeks now. He had been living it up in Vegas on his company’s dime because he had won some fancy prize for being some shit-hot salesman. He didn't offer to take her with him, which said an awful lot about their relationship and had put a lot of doubts in her head about her upcoming nuptials.

  Slipping the messenger bag off her shoulder, she took a step towards the kitchen, intent on finding the large red wine goblet she kept for special occasions and filling it to the brim with whatever alcohol she could find in her fridge. And if she didn't have enough of any one type to fill the glass, she was quite prepared to mix anything and everything together until that sucker was full. Unfortunately, so intent was she on her destination that she didn't pay attention to where she was putting her feet and she managed to get herself tangled up in the garment bag. She tripped spectacularly and because her hands were full of Thai food, she had no way of rescuing herself. She landed on her knees first, hitting the hardwood floor with more force than knees were expected to take, and then on her chest, chin, nose and finally her forehead. It all happened in slow motion but there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her bag of Thai food went splat! And she had the sneaking suspicion that her green curry had now been nicely combined with her chicken pad Thai and coconut rice in the plastic bag that now looked more like something you would shove in the garbage without looking too closely at.

  “Fuck,” she said again, although this time it was more of a whimper.

  A banging on the floor - the ceiling of the apartment below hers - let her know that Mrs. Feeney was not happy with the amount of noise she was making. Mrs. Feeney could go fuck herself for all Peyton cared. This had been a shit of a day. The Thai food had been her reward for not murdering anyone and for getting through yet another birthday party where she was very nearly puked on. Again.

  Now that the Thai food was leaking all over her floor, Mrs. Feeney might just want to keep her fucking wooden broom handle to herself or Peyton might just have to go down there and put it to better use.

  At least there was still alcohol.

  Peyton got to her feet slowly. Her knees hurt and she whimpered as she straightened her legs. What was the good of having a fucking fiancé when he was half way around the world instead of here looking
after her? It was bad enough that she was doing two jobs, and now that her boss was pregnant her workload had doubled. Not only that, her fiancé had left all of the wedding planning to her and they were supposed to be getting married in less than a month.

  Peyton took a moment to breathe deeply. She tipped her head to the ceiling, closed her eyes and tried to find her Zen. It felt like her life was coming apart at the seams and the harder she tried to hold onto everything, the quicker it seemed to turn to dust in her hands.

  Finding some sort of calm, Peyton scooped up the leaking bag of Thai food and dumped it into the sink. She pulled the glass out of the freezer and then opened the fridge to scan the pathetically empty shelves for something with enough of a kick to blot the memories of the shitty day from her mind. Three bottles of open wine found their way onto the kitchen counter and she combined the cab sauv with the sauv blanc and finished the glass off with the sparkling rosé. Lifting the glass to her lips, she closed her eyes and took a deep drink.

  “Sitting on the beach drinking rocket fuel…oh yeah.” The old Cold Chisel song floated through her mind. “Cheap Wine.” Yeah, that was where she was at tonight.

  She set the glass down and turned to the overhead cupboard, pulling out a bowl and walking to the sink. Grabbing a spoon on the way, she scooped some of her premixed Thai into the bowl with very little ceremony, dodging the bits of broken plastic container in the process. It was all going to get mixed in her stomach anyway, so what the hell. She picked up her glass and headed for the couch, seven steps from the kitchen, making sure to give the garment bag and her messenger bag a wide berth. Spilling her Thai food was one thing, but spilling the only remaining alcohol she had in the house was another thing completely.

  The television came to life with the touch of a button and Peyton settled in to watch the only people she knew with a worse life than she had - Geordie Shore.

  To be honest, her life wasn't too terrible. She liked her job - loved it most of the time. She earned decent money and had a nice, yet small, apartment in the Melbourne CBD and was engaged to be married. Just because her boss had just married a man she’d had a crush on for forever and was pregnant with his baby and just because her sister had recently married a billionaire aviation mogul in a ceremony that had been so beautiful it had brought tears to her eyes didn't mean that her life was shit. Today was a bad day but it didn't mean she had a bad life.

  Peyton woke to the sound of banging. Banging on her door and banging on her floor.

  “All right already!” she yelled, pushing herself to her feet and tilting slightly.

  The television was still on. The Geordie Shore marathon was still carrying on even though she had fallen asleep in the armchair like some ninety year old grandmother. She checked the time. It wasn't even nine o'clock on a Saturday night and she was already sacked out in front of the television. Such a wild life she led.

  The banging started again and she dragged herself across the floor, kicking the garment bag and messenger bag out of the way.

  “What?” she yelled as she opened the door.

  Her best friend and partner in crime stood on the other side of the door with her fist raised mid-knock.

  “Oh thank god you're still alive,” Mia said.

  Peyton gave her a puzzled look as she stepped back and let her into the apartment. She was carrying wine and ice cream, so whatever had happened must be bad.

  Mia put her bag of supplies on the kitchen counter and turned to look Peyton over. She took a step closer and reached out, cupping her cheek and looking at her with pity. Peyton shoved her hand away.

  “What?” she asked. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Why didn't you call me back?”

  Peyton looked at where she had dropped her phone when she had walked in the door. It was still lying, forgotten, where it had landed. She hadn’t given it another thought once she had sat down with her food and wine.

  “Just tell me what the fuck happened,” Peyton said, a little worried now with the way Mia was looking at her. “Is Bailey okay?”

  “Bailey’s fine,” Mia said. “Well, I think she’s fine, I haven't heard anything different so, you know, no news is good news and all that—”

  “Stop!” Peyton said, holding up a hand to stop Mia babbling. “Just tell me what is going on.”

  “It’s Dale.”

  Peyton felt the blood drain from her face. Sure, she and Dale had been going through some growing pains but she still loved him. She didn't know what she would do if something happened to him.

  “Oh God, what happened? Is he okay? He's not dead is he? Oh please god tell me he's not dead.”

  “He's not dead… yet.” The growl in Mia’s voice made Peyton look at her sharply.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Where's your laptop?” Mia asked looking around.

  “What the fuck, Mia!”

  “Look, it will be easier for me to show you. So where is it? Your laptop. Hand it over.” Mia a made a ‘give me’ gesture with her hands.

  With a deep sigh and a prayer that the reason for Mia’s crazy-arse behaviour would soon be revealed, Peyton stomped to her room and grabbed her laptop off the desk she had jammed in there with her queen size bed.

  “Here,” she said, plonking it on the kitchen counter.

  Mia opened the lid and clicked around. She knew Peyton’s password and Peyton knew hers. They didn't have secrets.

  “There!” Mia said triumphantly, gesturing to the screen.

  Peyton looked at the Facebook page and raised her eyebrows. It was Dale’s Facebook profile.

  “What?”

  “Look!” Mia said, pointing.

  Peyton bent down to squint at the screen and saw the relationship status.

  “Married to Starr Sparkles,” she read. “What the ever loving hell?”

  Mia clicked on the photo gallery and there it was. Her fiancé kissing what could only be a Las Vegas showgirl while a very cheerful Elvis Presley looked on. The next photo was of the two of them in a limo, lips locked and a very sparkly diamond flashing from her ring finger.

  This could not be happening. She must be dreaming. A bad dream brought on by mixing her wines and eating Thai food that had been all smooshed together in a plastic bag. There was no way her fiancé could have had a quickie Vegas wedding to a showgirl while she was left here in Australia with no clue what was going on. This was Dale, for fucks sake. Sensible, reliable, boring Dale. He didn't do spontaneity. He didn't do anything that he hadn't thought through completely. It was why they weren't officially living together. It was why their engagement had been twelve months long.

  There was no way on God’s green earth that her Dale would so much as look at another woman without telling her. There was no way in hell he would marry someone and let her find out about it on fucking Facebook.

  “Breathe Peyton,” Mia said quietly beside her.

  Peyton dragged in a deep breath and then slapped the lid of the laptop closed. No. Just no. She would not accept this. It couldn't be true.

  “Check your phone sweetie,” Mia said, handing her said phone.

  Peyton thumbed the home button bringing her screen to life. There were several missed calls from Mia and even a couple from Bailey and Brandi. And then right at the bottom as she scrolled through the notifications she saw a text message. She tapped it and opened the message.

  “I'm sorry.”

  That's all it said.

  “I'm sorry?” Peyton screamed. “He's fucking sorry!?”

  Mrs. Feeney started banging on the floor again and Peyton jumped up and down on the floor in response.

  Mia handed her a glass of wine and Peyton swallowed a deep mouthful. This could not be fucking happening.

  “This is a shout out to my ex!” Peyton yelled, holding her glass of wine in the air as the Little Mix song blared in the background. Mrs. Feeney had long ago given up banging on the floor and Peyton knew she would be in for the lecture of her life tom
orrow but right now she couldn't give a flying fuck. Her fiancé had married a Las Vegas showgirl and had announced it on Facebook before he'd had the decency to tell her that they were off.

  “God! This is the perfect song,” Peyton said as she collapsed onto her couch and guzzled the rest of her wine. “I wish I was a pop star and I could write a song about my ex. How cool would that be?”

  Mia dropped down beside her and nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah, that would be amazeballs!”

  Peyton leaned her head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. “My sister is going to have a field day when she finally gets a hold of me,” she said. “And Declan is going to laugh his arse off.”

  “Is Declan the one that married your sister?”

  “No. He's the one that married my boss on the private island he owns in the Whitsundays.”

  “Riiight. The one you have a crush on.”

  “Had. Had a crush on. But he's so goo-goo over Brandi that it's sickening. I've totally lost any respect for him.”

  “Yeah, right,” Mia snorted. “Seeing a hot guy - no, a hot billionaire - go all soft and squishy over his pregnant wife is disgusting, only it's not. Not even a little bit.”

  Peyton sighed. “I know.”

  The song came to an end and then started again.

  “I have an idea,” Mia said, jumping to her feet. “You should totally use this song to dis Dale. You can tell him what a worthless shit he is and let his new wife know that she married a total douche bag.”

  Peyton jumped to her feet as well. “That's brilliant!” She cried as she jumped around to the song.

  “But first,” Mia said, “we have to make you look hot.”

  Peyton looked down at herself. There was a stain on her t-shirt from the Thai she had spilled on herself while she was eating her disastrous dinner and another stain of unknown origin on her pants. That was probably from the party. One of the little kids had grabbed her as she was leaving begging for her to bring back Cinderella.