Billionaire's Holiday Bride: A Bad Boy Christmas Romance

by Serena Vale

  “Ri…right.” Terror pulsed through her, but so did anger, keeping her head clear. “I still don’t understand; why didn’t you just take the manuscript from me, like normal.”

  “You knew too much. It’s quite simple, really. Things would have been easier if you had just meet the buyer in the first place,” He sighed, almost in regret, “but now the buyer has had to come to you, and I don’t think that makes him very happy.”

  The metal of the gun pressed deeper into Hope’s back.

  “I’ll scream…someone with call the cops.”

  “Really, the police, Hope? What would you tell them, anyways? Besides, I made a contingency plan just in case. They have your name, your address, everything you’ve ever stolen. I’m sure there’s a warrant out for your arrest as we speak. You can’t go to the police, Hope. Your life will be over, then who will take care of your poor, sick brother.”

  Hope stared at him in horror, thinking furiously for any way out, any escape. But all she saw were dead ends. Literally. She knew if she didn’t get out of this situation soon, she would end up lifeless, forgotten.

  “It’s time to go, Hope.” The man at her back whispered the words, and they slithered along her skin. She recognized that voice. It was the same voice of the person who had attacked her outside of the club.

  She froze refusing to move, and suddenly a though occurred to her. “The manuscript! You need the book!”

  Mr. Jones, or whatever his real name was, just shook his head sadly at her. “No, I know where the manuscript is. You have it hidden, in the ceiling of your apartment. The men I sent were incompetent, but believe me, Ms. McAllister, I will have the artifact in my possession shortly after your unfortunate demise.”

  The edge of the barrel cut roughly into her skin as the man, her attacker, gripped her by the arm and lifted her to her feet. Panic tore through her with the force of a hurricane, obliterating any rational thought except that she would never see Valentine again, never see their baby.

  “Don’t struggle. Don’t make a scene. Or I’ll start shooting, got it?” Hope just nodded her head, numb with terror as he pushed her with the gun at her back in the direction of a dark alley. She knew as soon as they made it there, she was dead.

  She remembered Valentine, watching, listening, and hoped against hope that he would be able to save her, but as they neared the alley, that hope began to desert her. She pictured his face, his blue eyes staring down at her, and felt hot tears threaten.

  Suddenly, the sound of sirens and flashing lights surrounded the outdoor courtyard of the café, causing chaos to erupt. A close, familiar voice shouted, “There, over there, he has a gun!”

  As the attacker turned back to see what was happening, a strong punch flew at him from behind, startling him and knocking him back a few paces. Just enough for Valentine to grab her hand and drag her behind him as he flew down the alley. They paused for a moment at the other end, just long enough to see police surrounding her would-be killer. He was screaming at Mr. Jones, who was trying to sneak away, but as the entire café was surrounded he had nowhere to go.

  “You promised me! You promised me I could kill her!”

  Hope couldn’t hold back a small smile as both men were handcuffed and escorted into police cars. She looked up at Valentine.

  “You saved me.”

  He met her gaze with one of his own, a small lopsided smile on his lips.

  “Not yet.”

  They ran back to the hotel room, Valentine explaining along the way that he had called in the anonymous tip that there was a man with a gun at the café.

  Hope looked over at him, her eyes shining. “You’re pretty good at all this spy stuff.”

  “I’m not a spy, Zvyozdochka.”

  “Well, either way, you’re good.” He chuckled, but the sound slowly faded as he noticed the worried look on her face.

  “What is it, Hope? What’s wrong?”

  “What am I going to do now? You heard him, the police are probably looking for me right now.”

  “Well, as for that, I called in a few favors…” He gave her a sideways glance. “That is if you want to come live in Moscow with me.”

  “I would love to, but, my brother…”

  Valentine stopped, turning to her.

  “I can have him in one of the best hospitals in Russia today. He’ll be okay. You don’t have to take care of everything on your own, you know? You have me now.”

  Hope smiled tremulously up at him, her heart so full of love she could barely contain it. She kissed him.

  “You’re incredible, Valentine.”

  He just shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I know.” He took a deep breath, then continued, “So, what do you say? We can be on a private jet, flying home, in less than an hour.”

  Hope was struck by the unfamiliar uncertainty shimmering in his pale blue eyes. She twined her fingers around his tightly, never intending to let go. “Home…Home sounds perfect.”

  THE END

  Italian Billionaire’s Holiday Bride

  Chapter 1

  Bliss Valentine gave up, she could not repress her urge of laughter any longer.

  It started with a tickling sensation as if someone was working on her body’s most sensitive particles with a tender feather. A discreet chuckling developed into a series of a lot more noticeable titters. Then some shameless giggling before she lost the control completely. Every word Ricardo Drago uttered from the other side of their table was like another stroke intensifying further the magnitude of her joyful torture. No matter how hard and how long she resisted it, she cracked up at the end. It was simply inevitable.

  “And why are you laughing?” Ricardo asked her. He spoke with a slight accent, most of the times barely noticeable. Except when he got excited like at that moment. It was a certain kind of alien flavor in his intonation. Something Bliss had often noticed before and found always extremely sensual.

  “Because that’s crazy talk what you’re proposing Mr. Drago,” she said once she regained control over her lungs, “and crazy talk just makes me laugh.”

  A shadow of disbelief tainted his bright blue eyes one shade darker. Bliss did not miss noticing the change. Those sparks of that little anger only transformed Ricardo’s handsome face into something even sexier.

  But Bliss did not want to really hurt his feelings.

  “Listen Ric,” she added hastily, “why can’t we just play the usual?”

  The two of them had known each other for years. Ricardo Drago was a client like any other. Except that he was into bigger, more expensive, more exclusive, and more heartbreakingly beautiful properties than anyone else Bliss had ever helped to buy one in New York.

  They were sitting in her favorite restaurant, by far too expensive compared to what she could normally afford. But this was the same restaurant where they always met around this time of the year.

  A courtesy of Mr. Drago, her husband.

  Now, not really. Her pretend husband. Or more accurately: Bliss, his pretend wife. Things were confusing enough as they were. And now Ricardo expected her to assist him pulling another twist. Marriage? And this time for real.

  Ricardo did not answer.

  Bliss turned her head and stared somewhere outside through the window. It was getting late, the streets were dark. Cheerful human traffic was moving by silently on the pavement in front of the restaurant while the snow casually descended from the sky in glittering flakes.

  “Bliss,” Ricardo’s demanding voice shattered the peaceful interlude, “I have just explained it to you, they do not believe us any longer. They will demand solid proof once they get here.”

  Bliss felt like someone forced her awake from the middle of her most beautiful dream. She reacted with a slight amount of forgivable malice.

  “Solid proof?” she scolded, “Like what?”

  Now that he had her complete attention again, Ricardo eased up a bit.

  “Like a marriage certificate,” Ricardo remarked with suc
h an air of nonchalance as if he was talking about tying not a pair of human lives but a pair of shoelaces together. Bliss could not believe it.

  “And just how you imagine to get one of those in such little time?” she asked.

  Before Ricardo could answer her, the waiter arrived to their table. He had a pair of antlers attached to the top of his head and a blinking red nose fastened in front of his real one. Apparently he dressed like the most famous of reindeers, Rudolf, Santa’s number one little helper.

  “How was everything?” he asked politely while collecting the empty plates on the table.

  “Just magnificent,” Ricardo answered impatiently.

  “Would you care for another glass of wine?” Rudolf asked.

  “Yes, please,” Bliss replied immediately. She needed some more in order to handle Ricardo’s unexpected proposal. The waiter politely nodded and looked at Ricardo.

  “And for you, Sir?” he asked.

  “No, thanks,” Ricardo replied hastily.

  “Maybe some dessert?”

  Ricardo sighed. Rudolf proved by far too resilient.

  “No, thanks, but maybe the lady there.”

  Bliss blushed. She managed to keep her weight under control throughout most of the year, but around Christmas she always gained that little extra that just made her uncomfortable.

  “I really should not,” she hesitated.

  “You must be kidding me,” Ricardo said, “I insist that if you fancy a cake, you order one!”

  “But you know…” she tried to say something about the chief issue because of which she had just never considered seriously having a chance to be more to Ricardo than a close friend. It was not because she was a working class Afro-American estate agent and Ricardo an Italian billionaire. It was her weight. Ricardo never gave any sign that he did not find her attractive, but still, his type seemed to be more like a size six girl. And Bliss was an eleven.

  “Bliss, if this is about that typical female worrying about their weight,” Ricardo smiled, “you must realize, you are beautiful. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Bliss allowed a shy, timid smile.

  “If you say so, Ric,” she muttered.

  The waiter just waited silently next to their table.

  “So,” Ricardo ordered him, “bring us a glass of wine and one of the chef’s special.”

  Rudolf nodded.

  “Yes,” and he disappeared towards the kitchen with the empty plates.

  “So,” Ricardo turned back to Bliss, “where were we?”

  Bliss always found impressive how dominantly Ricardo tended to behave whenever they went out to socialize together. He swept away all the hesitancy that Bliss often faced if she was left alone to make her own decisions.

  “We were talking about how you planned to get married when there was hardly more than a week left before your family came over from Italy,” Bliss said. “And just for the record, I told you that you were crazy.”

  Ricardo smiled confidently.

  “So,” he replied, “if it is technically possible, I mean if we could marry before Christmas, would you say yes?”

  Rudolf was back with the dessert and the wine. He placed the plate in front of Bliss, and poured her glass full.

  “Need anything else?” he asked.

  “No, thanks,” Bliss and Ricardo snapped at him simultaneously.

  “Just asking…” Rudolf muttered in front of himself while scornfully leaving their table behind.

  Bliss washed down the first forkful of the cake Ricardo had ordered for her with a sip of wine. Delicious.

  “And of course,” Ricardo said, “This time I will pay you three times the usual.”

  That did it. Bliss was behind on her mortgage and the extra money would have just saved her. Besides, she contemplated, there was not such a big difference between playing Ricardo’s wife with or without a legal paper.

  “Okay,” she nodded, “now, tell me, just how do you plan to marry me before Christmas?”

  Ricardo laid back on his chair. He always got what he wanted and this time was no exception.

  “We are going to fly to Vegas…”

  Bliss pushed her cake away because it was impossible to take another bit – she would have suffocated if she had to keep down that irrepressible laughter.

  Chapter 2

  A weekend in Vegas. Bliss could hardly believe that she accepted Ricardo’s insane offer. Even when Saturday morning arrived and she went down with her package to the street, she still had this uneasy feeling tinkering at the back of her neck that she was only the victim of a prank, an innocent sufferer of a huge misunderstanding. Or, in worst case, simply delusional.

  She pushed the front door of the house open. If nothing else then the frisky wind, the cool air, and the cracking sounds of the glittering snow under her feet might just sober her up and end this madness. But, as Ricardo had promised, the limousine was indeed parking there.

  And it was waiting for her.

  “Mrs. Drago,” the driver addressed her, “may I have your luggage, please.”

  Bliss did not know how to react. For all these years the little theatre with Ric had only been performed in front of his family. No house staff, no employees involved. This had already changed.

  The driver wore a black uniform and that traditional driver’s cap on his head. He was most likely in his fifties with grey hair and a face seamed with deep and long wrinkles. He spoke with a slight Italian accent, just like his employer.

  “Thank you,” Bliss answered while he was taking the bags out of her hands. Her sentence ended on a high note – she tried to address him but realized that she had no idea what his name was.

  The man recognized Bliss’s apparent hesitancy.

  “I’m Giacomo,” he said, “but you can call me Jake, Mrs. Drago.”

  “Oh,” Bliss answered, “just call me Bliss, Jake.”

  “Thank you,” he said and placed the bags inside the trunk of the car. Bliss wanted to open the door and take a seat in the back. Jake hurried forward.

  “That is not the billionaire’s way, Mrs.–,” he said, “I mean Bliss,” he corrected himself. Then opened the door of the car with a theatrical swish and slightly bent his back while she took a seat inside.

  “This is really not necessary, Jake,” Bliss reproached.

  Jake pretended as if he had not heard her and did not give any answer.

  The door was shut and Bliss looked around.

  The interior of the limousine was nothing less impressive than its exterior. Leather seats, a huge television screen, a table, and a little cupboard. Most likely hiding a fridge stuffed with expensive drinks. Bliss knew that Ricardo was insanely wealthy, but feeling that luxury from up close, enjoying it as if it was as much hers as his, that was an intoxicating experience.

  The limousine started to roll and Jake slid down the shaded glass of the little window that separated the driver’s cabin from the passengers’ chamber.

  “If you care for some champagne, Bliss,” he said, “everything is prepared inside that cupboard in front of you.

  “Thank you, Jake,” she replied.

  Jake shut the window and Bliss looked for the glasses and the bottle. Moët & Chandon Dom Perignon White Gold.

  Ric sure had some taste, Bliss thought.

  On the other hand, on the day of her marriage she deserved the best from everything. Anyway, good to know that Ric seemed to have the same opinion on that last point. She popped the bottle and poured some of the fizzling, yellow liquid into a crystal glass she found next to the fridge inside that cupboard. She drank a sip. Could not be any better, she thought.

  And just then Jake turned the music on. ‘Give love on Christmas Day’ from the Jackson 5, one of her favorite holiday songs. It could not be a coincidence. Another courtesy from her husband, Ricardo Drago.

  It must have been partly from the champagne, partly from the heavenly accords and the angelic voice of the young Michael, but Bliss felt that her soul w
as ascending to new heights she had never been before. For a while she even forgot about the fact that this was only temporary, a pretend marriage. In a week or so she would be back to good, old, reliable estate agent Bliss on friendly terms with Ricardo.

  But who cared? She shrugged her shoulders, drank another sip, and asked Jake through the intercom to turn the volume up on the radio.

  By the time they got to the airport, Bliss became tipsy.

  Jake opened the door of the car for her and said goodbye with another of his little bows. She still found it rather comical, but did not protest any longer.

  The airport was busy and as usual she got lost looking for her gate. Children run around unattended, adults hurried back and forth, pushing or pulling trolleys packed with heavy luggage. The jumble of noises and the mixture of unfamiliar smells confused her even more. She panicked for a second that she was going to be late. There went her trip to Vegas and a weeklong marriage to the handsome billionaire she started to like more and more.

  Then she saw Ricardo at the end of a narrow corridor. He waved one of his arms invitingly. Bliss hurried her steps.

  “Hey, Ric,” she greeted him, “I’m sorry, hope we will not miss the flight.”

  Ricardo smiled in surprise.

  “How could we miss the flight?” he asked innocently.

  Bliss raised an eyebrow.

  “Planes do not wait for every last passenger,” she said, “even if those being late are called Mr. and Mrs. Drago.”

  Ric had to laugh.

  “Well, my plane sure will wait for Mrs. Drago!”

  They stepped out of the building. In front of them parked the planes waiting for the passengers to enter.

  “What do you mean with your plane?” Bliss asked.

  Ricardo grabbed her hand. Bliss stopped moving forward. He pointed towards a smaller jet on the side. It had red carpet rolling down on the boarding stairs. Balloons and bouquets of flowers were attached around its door.

  “I mean that it is my private jet,” he said softly. “Bliss,” he added, “will you marry me for real?”

  Bliss felt tears accumulating in her eyes.