Twins For Christmas - A Billionaire's Secret Babies Romance

by Layla Valentine

  Pedro nodded to his team, and they quickly assembled and were off. Adam cast me a glance, one that made it clear how he felt about everything. I formed up at his side and we left the factory floor—and not a moment too soon.

  After a brief trip down a hallway up on the second floor, we arrived at a sunny, spacious, and most importantly, climate-controlled conference room. The large window looked out over the factory grounds and to the tree-lined hills beyond.

  Pedro nodded once again to his team once the door was shut, and this time they all hurriedly took their seats. Pedro joined them at the long table as I grabbed a seat at the side of the room, ready to continue taking notes.

  Adam, not in any sort of hurry, stepped to the head of the table, his back turned to the group and hands clasped behind his back. We all waited eagerly for what he was going to say, though I’m sure that the rest of the group knew as well as I did that he wasn’t going to have kind words.

  Finally, he turned toward us.

  “What the hell is going on in there?” he asked. “The noise, the temperature, the crowding…and on top of everything this is Christmas Eve! Why aren’t the workers home with their families?”

  All eyes turned to Pedro. He seemed sheepish, ashamed. I couldn’t help but wonder what his defense was going to be.

  “Mr. Forde…I’m sorry,” he said. “But the pressure from the main office in San Francisco has been…it’s been intense.”

  “How do you mean?” asked Adam.

  “The manager I report to,” said Pedro. “He hasn’t been happy with the level of production here. So, we’ve had to make some…adjustments to the way the factory is run.”

  “Like keeping it ninety degrees on the factory floor with the workers packed in shoulder to shoulder?”

  “Climate control is expensive,” said Pedro. “And the more workers we have, the better our output.”

  “I see,” said Adam. “And more workers means more heat.”

  Pedro nodded.

  “We don’t have the budget for an expansion, as much as we need one,” said Pedro. “So we have to make do with what we have.”

  “So,” said Adam, his voice still stern. “This is all coming from corporate?”

  “Yes, Mr. Forde,” said Pedro. “I don’t mean any offense, but they don’t understand the realities of the situation here. You’re the first executive to bother visiting here since the end of last year. If anything, I’m a little relieved that you’re able to see the results of the policies.”

  I’d been ready to get angry at Pedro, ready to mentally chew him out for being a whip-cracking taskmaster. But the more he spoke, the more I could see how badly he felt about the whole thing. He clearly knew that the situation was far from ideal, but if he’d been given his marching orders from corporate, what else was he supposed to do?

  “And Christmas?” Adam asked. “Why is the plant even open today?”

  I knew the answer, and I was sure Adam did, too.

  “The bottom line, Mr. Forde,” said Pedro. “That’s all any of us have been able to think about for the last year. The workers are expected to stay on the line through the holiday, only taking Christmas Day off. If they want more time, they don’t get paid. We simply don’t have the budget to do otherwise.”

  Adam shook his head in what appeared to be disbelief. I didn’t blame him one bit. This was a bad situation all around. The workers were in miserable conditions, the management’s hands were tied, and no one from the main offices seemed to know any better. I was curious to see how Adam would handle the situation.

  He remained standing at the front of the room, his brow knitted in concentration. Finally, after several moments of thought, he spoke.

  “Close the factory,” he said. “Shut it down for Christmas.”

  Murmurs broke out among the team, shocked expressions on their faces.

  “Mr. Forde,” said Pedro, worry tinging his voice. “If we close down now, it would drastically affect the bottom line. It simply can’t be done.”

  “It can be done and it will be done,” said Adam, unwavering. “Don’t worry about this coming down on you all. I’ll make sure the board knows that this was my decision. None of you will have to answer for it.”

  The relief on all of their faces was immediate.

  “Shall I make the call now?” asked one of the members of the team.

  Adam raised his palm, indicating that he wasn’t done.

  “That’s not all,” he said. “I want all workers to have today, Christmas, and the two days after off. And they’ll all be receiving holiday bonuses for their hard work. Naturally, when we open back up, the temperature will be set to a more agreeable number, and I’ll speak to the board to see what we can do about the overcrowding.”

  However eager the murmurs were before, this pushed them to the next level.

  “Mr. Forde,” said Pedro. “This is…this is very generous of you. But won’t this need to be approved by the board first?”

  He shook his head.

  “One of the perks of being CEO,” he said. “I’ll see to it personally that the changes are made. Right now I’m concerned about the people here. I want them all to be home with their families as quickly as possible.”

  He turned his attention to the member of the team who’d spoken up before.

  “Now you may make the call,” he said.

  The woman nodded, hopping out of her chair and dialing a number on her phone as she left the room.

  “This is…not how I expected this meeting to go, to be honest,” said Pedro. “But if it means anything, I believe you’re making the right decision.”

  Adam nodded.

  “Everyone’s being pushed to their limit here,” he said. “From the workers on the factory floor to the top management. Consider this me opening up a release valve while we figure out a more long-term solution.”

  He took a deep breath, as if processing everything that he’d seen.

  “That will be all for today,” he said. “And I’ll make sure you that all of you are kept in the loop with whatever decisions we make.”

  With that, the meeting broke up. Adam said his goodbyes, and before too long we were back in the car and headed in the direction of the hotel.

  At first the drive was silent. I could tell by the expression on Adam’s face that he had plenty on his mind, and I didn’t want to bother him with any empty chatter.

  “Terrible,” he said after some time. “No one should be working like that, especially not during Christmas.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe some of them would just be at home watching bad TV if they didn’t have work to do.”

  I was joking around, referring to how me and him both didn’t have any bigger plans over the holidays than to work. For a brief moment, I was worried that he wouldn’t find my joke particularly funny.

  But he flashed me a quick smile, letting me know he got it.

  “Makes you appreciative of what we have, right?” he asked. “Even something as simple as air-conditioning.”

  I thought back to the offices and how many times I’d mentally complained about how damn cold it always seemed to be in the building. But he was right—it sure beat the alternative.

  Adam checked his watch before turning his attention to me.

  “Well,” he said. “We ended up finishing earlier than I anticipated. You free this evening?”

  He flashed me an ironic smile.

  “I think I could make some room in my schedule,” I said, smiling back at him. “What’d you have in mind?”

  “A little Christmas Eve night on the town,” he said. “My treat.”

  I nodded, trying to keep it cool.

  But man, was I excited. Happy holidays indeed.

  Chapter 9

  Adam

  Regret hit me the moment I stepped into my suite.

  I’d really done it. I’d asked Isla out to dinner.

  My conversation with Edward played again in my mind at ultra-fast-forw
ard speed. I knew I needed to hear those words.

  I stepped into the center of the room and let my hands drop to my sides, doing my best to clear my mind and calm down. But it was so, so hard. All I could think about was her.

  “Okay,” I said to myself as I stepped over to the eastward-facing window, the top-floor view allowing me to see all the way to the downtown skyscrapers of the city. “Maybe this is a bad idea. Going out on a date with a subordinate? Recipe for disaster.”

  I checked my watch, seeing that it was about five in the evening. The sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, its glow surrounded by gorgeous orange and cream. I had a lot on my mind for sure, but a lovely sunset like that went a long way toward clearing my thoughts.

  “A date,” I said. “What if…it doesn’t have to be a date? Technically, sure. But that doesn’t mean there has to be any sort of romantic angle to it.”

  As soon as I finished making the excuse my phone buzzed in my pocket. I slipped it out and saw that it was a text from Isla—almost as if she’d sensed that I was thinking about her.

  “Hey! Going to get ready now. I’ll meet you down in the lobby in an hour?”

  I replied with an affirmative and let my phone drop back into my pocket. An hour should give me plenty of time to get my head right.

  I prepared a cup of coffee, doing my best to turn my attention from Isla to the work that I’d been sent there to do.

  The conditions at the factory had been awful. I couldn’t quite believe that I was at the helm of a company that would subject workers to such an environment. My decision to send them all home for the holidays with pay might’ve been rash, but I didn’t regret it in the slightest. If the board wanted to throw a fit about the holiday pay and bonuses, I’d be happy to have it out with them. Hell, I’d pay out of my own pocket if I had to.

  And I wondered how Edward was going to take it. He was a careful man, very methodical. If it were up to him, he’d have flown back to California and spent a good week or so thinking over the matter before coming to any major decisions. I respected this way of doing things, but sometimes immediate action was necessary.

  I had no doubt this had been one of those times. The relief on the faces of Pedro and the rest of the team made it clear that they’d been beyond happy to hear my decision. And I was pleased to know that in a few days’ time the workers would be refreshed and relaxed from the holidays, a little extra money in their pocket and a more comfortable work environment to return to.

  After finishing my coffee, I slipped out of my clothes, took a brief shower, and changed into a clean button-down and slacks. I finished just in time to receive another text from Isla, letting me know she was about to head down.

  I was ready for some fun. Some good food, maybe a stroll through the nearby village, possibly even a drink or two—it sounded just right. And having Isla at my side made it all the more appealing.

  But it wasn’t a date. Just a couple of coworkers getting to know one another and enjoying some time away from the office.

  When I was ready I grabbed my things and headed down, stepping out of the elevator and into the grand lobby of the hotel.

  “Hey!”

  The bright, cheerful voice could only have belonged to Isla. I turned in her direction and it took all the restraint I had to stay cool.

  She looked incredible. She wasn’t wearing anything outlandishly fancy—a light blue blouse, a pair of well-fitting jeans, and some nice sneakers. But something about the way she looked in that moment, bathed in the light of the sunset that poured in through the windows, took my breath away.

  “Hey,” I replied, not able to get out another word.

  This was strange, I realized. I’d dated—if you want to call it that—plenty of women over the years. But I couldn’t remember the last time one had been able to cast a spell on me the way Isla had in that moment.

  What was going on?

  I didn’t have too much time to think about it before she strolled over to me, all smiles.

  “You’re looking dapper this evening,” she said, taking my collar in her fingers and giving it a gentle tug.

  “And you’re looking…” I trailed off, trying to find the most appropriate word. She looked lovely, beautiful, stunning—but none of those were exactly the most professional adjectives to use. “…Chipper.”

  Not sure how I settled on that one, but there it was.

  Isla cocked her head to the side and gave a half-smile.

  “Chipper?” she said. “Never been called that before, but I’ll take it.”

  It was embarrassing. Sure, I’d stumbled because I hadn’t wanted to say anything inappropriate. But the way she’d made me trip over my words…

  “Anyway,” I said. “Shall we?”

  “We shall,” she said with a smile.

  Together we strode through the arched doors of the hotel and out onto the city streets. The scene was as bustling as it had been earlier, the road packed with cars and trucks and bikes, the sidewalks full of pedestrians. The air was mild and pleasant, and the scent of the city was tinged with something fresh and lovely.

  And more than that there were Christmas decorations everywhere, reminding all that despite the warm air and lack of snow, it was still the holiday season.

  Together Isla and I started down the sidewalk, weaving through the throngs of people and taking a few turns until we were off the main road. Once the crowds had eased up and the noise of the traffic was more tolerable, we actually had a chance to speak.

  “So,” I said. “Any regrets?”

  “About coming along?” she asked.

  She shook her head, her auburn hair bouncing slightly on her shoulders.

  “Not even a little,” she said. “That was…a lot to take in at the factory. But we’re doing important work here. What’s going on needed to be taken care of, right?”

  “Right,” I said. “And I’m only upset at the fact that I’d waited so long to be on top of it.”

  “And what you said, about being more appreciative—I’ll never get frustrated by a long day at the office ever again.”

  Another charming smile followed.

  We continued on, taking in the sights and smells of the small marketplace we’d ended up in. Vendors were closing up for the day, putting away their fresh fruit and just-cut meats and preparing to settle in for the holiday. The sight of all the food on display made my stomach grumble, reminding me that I hadn’t had a bite to eat since that morning.

  “You—”

  “Hungry?” she finished.

  “Great minds,” I said, grinning.

  “Or hungry stomachs.”

  I scanned our immediate surroundings, looking for something appealing. There was no shortage of restaurants in the nearby area, all still open for Christmas Eve dinner. The only question was deciding on one.

  “Come on,” said Isla. “Let’s check them out.”

  Together we strolled down the block, peeking into the front windows and seeing what kind of fare each place offered. All of the choices looked so delicious, it was hard to decide.

  “How about this one?” Isla asked, pointing to a restaurant across the street.

  I couldn’t tell what she was looking at specifically. But before I had a chance to ask, she was already off, crossing the street and stopping at the front of a humble-looking restaurant. When I caught up to her, I checked out the inside, spotting what appeared to be a family-run place. An older man was in the kitchen, a woman about his age running the bar, and a pretty teenaged girl zipping around to the few tables with customers. A pair of younger kids playing near the back completed the scene.

  “I’ve always thought that the best way to know if a place is good is if they’re family-owned and have kids running around,” she said.

  “Works for me.”

  I opened the door and let her in first. The scent of the place hit me immediately—the wonderful aroma of cooking meats mixed with something fresh and fruity. I’d been hungry before, but t
his pushed me over the edge into famished territory.

  The hostess, who appeared to be the chef’s wife, greeted us with a smile and a “Feliz Natal”—“Merry Christmas” in Portuguese—and led us to a cozy table near the front window. The view looked out over the bustling street, the sunset even more dramatic than it had been earlier.

  The teenaged waitress approached, just as friendly as her mother, and explained to us in surprisingly good English the specials for the evening. The roasted pork called out to me, and Isla went with the fish. The chef was kind enough to stop by the table, introduce himself, and recommend some good wine pairings. Moments later a bottle of delicious red was cracked open and the two of us were holding our glasses up for a toast.

  “To the strangest Christmas ever,” Isla said with a smile.

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  We tapped our glasses and sipped, the wine rich and delicious with a hint of spice. Moments later a small plate of coxinha—teardrop-shaped chicken croquettes—was placed on the table.

  “I have to say,” said Isla as she washed down her first bite with a glass of wine. “That was impressive at the factory today.”

  “How do you mean?” I asked.

  “You were fearless,” she said. “You saw that something was wrong and you did the right thing and fixed it—no hesitation.”

  “Hesitation is the first thing you learn to get rid of in this line of work,” I said. “A decision presents itself and you pick one choice, go with it, and never look back.”

  “And that’s what you’re doing now?” she asked. “Not looking back?”

  “Not even a little.”

  “Not even if the board gets mad at you?”

  I shrugged.

  “This is how I see it,” I said. “You make decisions based upon your character, right? Based upon what sort of person you are, what kinds of values you have.”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “So,” I went on. “Something I’ve learned is that if you make a decision—a hard and final one—you’re going to make some people happy, and some people upset.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “And if someone disagrees with a decision, that means they disagree with the values you hold—which means that they’re someone you’re not compatible with.”