Billionaire's Holiday (An Alpha Billionaire Christmas Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #17)

by Claire Adams

  “I know. I was surprised too.”

  She looked at me, a piece of chicken held in between the two chopsticks. “Was this before or after he hit you?”

  “After. Pretty much immediately after. I let him hit me though. Just so we’re clear.”

  “Yeah, I’m still not quite sure I follow the logic in that one.”

  “It was sort of . . . cathartic for him, I think. It’s not like we got into some sort of crazy brawl or anything. Which is what I think he wanted to do at first. So we talked about the whole leak thing, and then he hit me, and then he seemed to feel better and told me that he was going to be leaving. He didn’t say where he was going, though.” I shrugged. “Maybe it’s for the better. I know I’m going to have to eventually talk with Martin, and have to listen to him tell me I told you so, in regards to whose side the leak came from.”

  “It might be better that he leaves,” Daisy said. “You wouldn’t be able to completely trust him again, would you?”

  I shrugged as I opened up another container, this one containing egg rolls. “You know what’s weird is that I feel like I still could. Even after all that stuff he said, I still feel like if he wanted to stay, that we’d just move past this. But if he wants to go, I’m not going to stop him. It does kind of feel like it’s the end of an era, though.”

  She set her container down and looked at me. “This can be the start of a new one, then,” she said. “For us, anyway. And I really believe now, more than ever, that as long as we stay true to our feelings, then that is what’s most important. Because if I had done that to begin with, we could have probably avoided a lot of the stuff that we’ve been through so far.”

  I thought back to the day she first showed up in my office for that job interview. If you had told me then that I’d be sitting here now, feeling how I did toward her, I never would have believed it, but there you have it. Things sometimes worked out in ways that you couldn’t even fathom.

  “We have been through a lot,” I said, “but honestly, Daisy, there’s no one else I’d rather go through it with.”

  She smiled. “I feel the same way.”

  Epilogue

  Daisy

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I said, taking a deep breath.

  Ian squeezed my shoulders. “Of course you can,” he said. “You’re going to be great.”

  I took another deep breath and tried to ignore the knots in my stomach. Everything seemed so surreal. I was about to walk out on stage, in front of a (large) group of people, and give a talk, as part of the TEDxBoston conference. My book, You’ve Got This: Overcoming the Quarter-Life Crisis, about my quarter-life crisis, had come out a few months ago and gotten some really good reviews in some very important places, and suddenly, it seemed, everyone thought that I had something important to say. And it had all started with that article I’d written at my mother’s encouragement, which, once posted on the blog, had been liked, retweeted, and favorited tens of thousands of times. Subsequent essays I’d written had later been compiled, and I’d written a few more to round out what had turned into a best-selling book you could now find in the personal development section.

  Ian kept his hands on my shoulders, massaging them lightly. “I am so proud of you,” he said.

  I took another deep breath and felt my anxiety quell a bit at the sound of his voice. “Thanks.”

  People that I didn’t even know were hailing me as an expert on my generation, despite the fact that I felt like I still knew nothing. I mean, all I had done really, was written a book—and a rather short one at that—about my experience. I spoke about it candidly, and didn’t sugar-coat anything, and ultimately, I guess I found my happy ending, because Ian and I were still together, because I’d put my college degree to use, because I finally felt a measure of contentedness with my life that I hadn’t before.

  So that made people believe I somehow had answers that could help them, too. The idea that I was helping people made me feel good, even though it seemed crazy that I would be someone people would turn to for advice like this.

  Even my mother had been begrudgingly happy for me, despite the fact that the deal for her own book had fallen through and she was currently looking for a publisher.

  “And after your book signing, I’m going to take you out to celebrate, and then we’ll go pick up Aaron.”

  I smiled, thinking about Aaron, who was almost two now. We picked him up Saturday afternoon, and he stayed with us until Monday morning. He was definitely not the handful that everyone told me he was going to be once he was a toddler. He was actually really fun to be around, and I enjoyed the time he was with us. Even though Ian and I weren’t married, I’d settled into the role of step-mother much more easily than I thought I would have. Eventually, I knew, Ian and I would tie the knot, but for now, living together and learning how to be parents to Aaron was good enough for the both of us. And maybe, some day, Ian and I would have a kid of our own, but there was still plenty of time for that.

  Right now, I had a talk to give.

  Ian leaned down and gave me a kiss. “You’re going to be great,” he said. “I love you.”

  I kissed him back. “I love you, too.” Then I took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage.

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  DR. DADDY’S VIRGIN

  By Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams

  Chapter One

  Allie

  I could tell from the look on my mother’s face that she was not impressed with my new place. Disgusted might be a better word, or maybe that was pity; with her, it was hard to tell sometimes. We were sitting at the kitchen table, and the blueberry muffins I had picked up earlier from Brown Bag Bakery were still slightly warm. The butter was organic and local, from grass-fed cows. All the sorts of things I would’ve thought she’d appreciate. The kitchen floor had black and white tiles and glass door cabinets with little panes that made me feel like the cups and plates were outside a window, looking in on me. I chose not to share this thought with her; she’d probably tell me it was clear that thinking something like that meant I was going insane because I’d been living out in the country for too long.

  “It’s so...” My mother made a face. “It’s so quiet. What on earth are you going to do with yourself up here?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been managing all right so far.”

  She broke a piece off from one of the muffins, the gold bangles on her wrist jangling. “You say that now, but you’ve only been up here a week. Just wait until the newness wears off—then you’ll be crying to move back to the city, where, you know, life is actually happening. Are there any restaurants? Delivery? What happens if you don’t want to cook dinner one night, but there’s no one that will deliver because you live out here in the sticks?”

  I moved up to Chapin, Maine from Boston because I couldn’t deal with city life anymore. I had never lived in a rural area like this, where the trees outnumbered both the people and the buildings, but so far, I liked it. I liked the feel of all the space around me, of the clean fresh air, of the relative quiet at night.

  I’d searched on Craigslist and found my own little house, too. It was a winterized cottage, a small two-bedroom with blueberry bushes and a split rail fence. There was an overgrown garden in the back that I’d been thinking about maybe doing something with. I just liked the fact that I had a yard, even if it meant a lawn that I would have to mow. I’d never mowed a lawn before, but I didn’t care; I loved that the place was mine, that it was a dwelling not attached to any others, that I w
asn’t above or below anyone.

  I took a sip of my coffee and chose not to tell her a large part of the reason I had fled Boston to begin with was because I couldn’t be in her vicinity anymore. Not that I didn’t want to be around my mother, but I simply couldn’t stand being around my stepfather, Bill. It had gotten worse over the years, though my mother was somehow blind to it all. How was that possible? The few times I had tried to talk to her about it, she had gotten irrationally angry and said that I was jealous and ungrateful. That Bill had provided for us over the years—more than just provided for us, allowed us to live a very well-off existence in a Beacon Hill brownstone—and that I couldn’t seem to appreciate the fact that there were probably a million other girls who would be willing to trade places with me in a heartbeat.

  Bill, for his part, always gave me this wounded look whenever my mother was around, but when we were alone (which I tried to make sure never happened), that wounded look would change to something more predatory, though he hadn’t tried to make any moves on me since that night when I was 15.

  “You just wait,” my mother said. “Once the novelty of this place wears off, you’ll be—” She stopped and straightened, looking out the window. “Now who is that?” she said.

  My next door neighbor had just stepped outside. The houses in this part of town weren’t right on top of each other, but they were close enough that friendly neighborhood interaction was a requirement.

  “I assume that’s one of my neighbors,” I said.

  My mother craned her neck, squinting. “He’s very handsome. You haven’t met him yet?”

  “No.”

  “I’m surprised he hasn’t come over to introduce himself.”

  “I think he’s pretty busy. He’s a doctor.”

  “A doctor?” She sounded surprised, like it was unheard of for a doctor to live anywhere but a bustling metropolis. “He looks young to be a doctor. How do you know he’s a doctor if you’ve never met him?”

  “My other neighbor, Diane, told me. I have met her.”

  “Well.” My mother picked up the paper napkin and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. She stood up. “No time like the present.”

  “Mom—” I started, but it was too late, she was already pushing out the side door, striding across the yard, her blue Jimmy Choos stabbing the lawn as she went.

  “Shit,” I muttered as I stood up to follow. It would be easy to hide in here, but I wanted to make sure she didn’t say something ridiculous.

  By the time I caught up to her, my mother was already shaking his hand, laughing.

  “Allie,” she said. “This is Cole.”

  “Hey,” he said, extending a hand to me. Up close, he was extremely good-looking—almost uncomfortably so—but I just pasted a smile on my face and shook his hand. My stepfather was good-looking too, and the majority of my childhood I’d watched the way women had fallen over themselves around him. I imagined that people did the same for Cole, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to be one of them.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  My mother beamed. “Allie just moved in.”

  “Yeah, we noticed that the For Rent sign had been taken down,” Cole said. “Sorry that we haven’t been over to introduce ourselves yet, but things have been kind of crazy this past week.” He smiled, exposing a row of perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’ve been pretty busy, too.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my mother’s smile faltering—he had said we—but before she could inquire about a wife or a girlfriend, a little boy was suddenly there, weaving around us like an overexcited puppy.

  “Oh!” my mother said, stepping back. “What—I mean, who is this?”

  “This is Declan.” Cole squatted down so he was at Declan’s level. “Declan, these are our new neighbors. This is Allie and...” He looked at my mom. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was again?”

  “Jen.”

  “And her mom, Jen.”

  Declan, with big blue eyes and shaggy, light brown hair, grinned up at us. “Hi,” he said.

  “I’m not a new neighbor,” my mother said. They both looked at her in confusion. “Just Allie is. I’m only visiting. I’ll be returning to the city later today.”

  “I go to preschool,” Declan said.

  “You do?” I asked. “How old are you?”

  “Four.”

  “What preschool do you go to?” I was going to be starting my new job on Monday at the Learning Center, which was a preschool the next town over.

  “The Learning Center,” Declan said proudly.

  “Well, isn’t that something!” my mother said. “That’s where Allie is going to be working. That’s the whole reason she moved to this town to begin with—because they offered her a job! Not that there aren’t plenty of teaching opportunities in Boston, either.”

  “They’re not really interested in hearing about that, Mom,” I said. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you both, and it sounds like I’ll be seeing you soon, Declan.”

  “Yeah, great meeting you,” Cole said. “Sorry to rush off like this, but I’ve got to get Declan to school, and I’ve got a full day of patients.”

  “So, you are a doctor,” my mother said.

  Cole smiled. “Have you been inquiring about me?”

  I winced inwardly. This whole first meeting was really going great.

  “Diane had mentioned it,” I said quickly.

  “My dad’s the best doctor,” Declan said. “I want to be a firefighter when I grow up, though.”

  “That’s a very good job to pick,” I said. “Firefighters are very brave.”

  “I am brave! Look, I can pick up this spider.” And he leaned down and plucked a rather scary-looking spider from the edge of the driveway. I almost jumped out of my skin just seeing the spindly legs and the black, bulbous body, but I forced a grin. “You are very brave,” I said. Instead of squashing it, like many little boys his age would have, Declan carefully walked the spider over to the front lawn and put it down. “It’s not bad if spiders get into the house,” he said. “Because then they’ll spin webs and catch other bugs, like mosquitos.”

  “All right, bud, let’s say bye and get in the car,” Cole said. “It was very nice to meet you two.”

  “You too,” I said, and I waved at Declan as he went over and climbed into the back seat of the car.

  “He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring,” my mother said once we were back in the kitchen.

  I tried not to roll my eyes. “Of course you would notice that. And just because someone isn’t wearing a wedding ring, it doesn’t mean that they’re not married.”

  “I got the distinct feeling that he wasn’t, though.” She sighed. “Not that you want to get involved with a man who has a child. That’s a whole Pandora’s box that’s probably better left untouched.”

  “Kind of ironic coming from someone who did exactly that,” I said, though of course she had a point. If she had never gotten involved with Bill, he never would have tried to come into my bedroom when I was a teenager.

  “Allie, I don’t want you to think I’m not supportive of your decisions,” Mom said. “It’s just that I can’t help but worry about you alone up here. I mean, you’re living in a house all by yourself! What if you need help with something?”

  “Like what? Opening a jar of pickles? I lived alone when I was in Boston, too, Mom, and I somehow managed just fine.” It was when I was living with her and Bill that things weren’t so great, but I didn’t bring that up.

  “So what have you got planned, other than work?” my mother asked. “Not that there’s much to do around here.”

  “Well, work is a pretty big one,” I said. “I definitely want to get settled into my job, and I’ll probably do a little exploring. I need to set up some appointments once my insurance goes through. I haven’t been to the dentist in like a year.”

  “You’ve got good teeth. Do you floss?”

  “Y
es.”

  “That’s more important than brushing, you know.”

  “It is?”

  “Absolutely. Especially as you get older. Just ask your dentist. He’ll tell you I’m right.”

  “I need to make an appointment for a physical, too.”

  “That’s a good idea. You definitely want to take care of your health. When was the last time you had an annual? That’s probably even more important than the dentist, you know.”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “They both seem pretty important.”

  “Well. It’s more important once you’ve become sexually active...” My mother let the sentence die off, waiting to see if I would confirm or deny anything.

  “Still not,” I said. “And still don’t feel like having this conversation with you, either.”

  Ever since I’d turned 18 (I guess the age that my mother had decided a girl should have lost her virginity by), my mom had been pestering me about the fact that I still had not had sex. At first it had been something like a joke, something she gave me a good-natured hard time over, but now it seemed more as though she was actually concerned.

  She squinted at me. “You’re getting a little old, aren’t you, Allie? There aren’t many 24-year-old virgins left in the world, you know.”

  “I haven’t met the right guy, I guess.” I decided not to mention that the past couple days it had been burning when I peed. Dr. Google was telling me that it was probably a urinary tract infection, but if that was the case, I would likely need a prescription for an antibiotic.

  My mother gave me a grim look. “Well, other than your neighbor over there, I wouldn’t say you’re going to have that many prospects around here.”

  I was a little nervous about my first day at the Learning Center, though not as nervous as I’d been at some of my other jobs. I’d had a phone interview with Becca, the executive director, and then I’d driven up for two days to meet with the Kris, the lead teacher, and Amy, the other teacher, a short girl with thick brown hair and pretty blue eyes. They were regular, down-to-earth people who really enjoyed their work, and that made me feel at ease. The kids were all great, too, and I was looking forward to getting to know them.