Millionaire Under the Mistletoe

by Stefanie London

  Not that he put much stock in the quacks Nicholas had sent him to when trying to work out his supposed latent anger issues during his teenage years. He’d gotten past that particular rough patch by finding something to focus his energy on. It’d been renovating the cottage—painting the walls, re-tiling the bathroom, fixing the shitty plumbing in the kitchen. Knowing he was doing something to make his mother’s life better helped him to forget his problems. His past.

  He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and called Matt’s number.

  “Have you calmed down, yet?” came the gruff response.

  Evan grunted. “No. This is a bloody disaster.”

  “We’ll find someone else to do the restoration work, Ev. It’ll be fine.” To Matt—a guy so laidback he was barely able to stand—everything would always be all right. He was Evan’s polar opposite, hence why they butted heads constantly. “The Carlisle Group isn’t the only company who can work with heritage listed properties. You know that.”

  “We’d better find someone else, because if we can’t meet the planning conditions, then we’re going to lose a lot of money.” Money that he was planning to re-invest into the Jackson Estate.

  “Look, I know you freak out about the money thing because of your upbringing but you have my word everything will work out. We’ve got that place in Bath that we can sell off quickly if need be—it’ll bring in a mil at least.”

  He drew a deep breath. Matt was right, Evan did have a tendency to flip whenever there was a possibility that they’d lose out on a property. He couldn’t help it. Each time they hit a snag like this the nightmares would start. The memories would swirl. He’d remember how dirty he and his mother were when they’d arrived at the estate, how frightened he was that they’d run out of fuel again and he’d have to beg, borrow, and steal…literally. He’d got caught siphoning petrol out of a car a few days before. The owner had taken pity on him, let him go without calling the police. But they’d been stuck by the side of the road for twenty-four hours before someone stopped and helped them out.

  He remembered what it was to be so hungry that your stomach felt like it was eating itself alive. Then to feel nothing at all. To feel like you were floating.

  “You’re right,” Evan said, trying to talk past the tight sensation in his throat. He had to remind himself that those days were well and truly behind him—there was always food on the table, always a roof over his head. “But I can’t believe those bastards backed out after signing a contract. We should talk to a lawyer.”

  “Well, there was a snag with that.” Matt paused on the other end of the line. “They never actually signed a contract.”

  “What?” Several people on the street turned sharply in his direction. “Melanie told me we had the contract all tied up.”

  “She made a mistake. We’d submitted a statement of work to them and they’d agreed verbally, but no contract was ever sent. Then they were approached about a bigger job over the same time period and decided to go with that one instead.”

  “How the hell did we miss that?” It was such a stupid oversight—missing paperwork, stuff slipping through the cracks. It should have been avoided.

  “Mel’s snowed under, Ev. It’s almost Christmas and she’s working herself to the bone. Cut her some slack.”

  “It’s not good enough.” He raked a hand through his hair and pounded his feet into the pavement.

  “Look, I know work is your entire life but have you ever thought for a second that other people might want more?”

  The question stunned Evan into silence. Since when was Matt Mr. Work-Life Balance? Despite the laidback attitude, his friend had as much drive and passion about the job as he did. They were the guys who’d happily work til two a.m., hammering out project plans and pouring over blueprints. They’d read through tender documents until their eyes were square. Matt was a workhorse through and through.

  “What’s going on?” Evan asked.

  Pause. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “This whole ‘other people might want more’ bullshit. When we started working together you said you wanted to make hay while the sun was shining.”

  “I do.”

  “But…?”

  “But now I want other things, too.” He sighed. “We’ve spent the last five years building this company together and we’ve kicked fucking goal after goal. It’s been great, but I’m ready to kick goals in other areas of my life.”

  “Which areas?”

  “Oh, man.” Matt made a strangled noise on the other end of the line. “I wasn’t going to break it to you while you had all this shit going on with the estate. Mel and I are seeing each other. I’m going to propose to her at Christmas.”

  “What?” Evan halted in the street, narrowly avoiding a collision with a group of teenage girls. “Since when?”

  “It’s been going on for six months.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” Evan was surprised at the clench in his chest. Matteo was his best friend, and he’d thought they were honest with one another.

  “What was I supposed to say? You think relationships are the Antichrist.” Matt laughed. “And there’s the small fact of Mel and I needing a honeymoon which means we’ll be out of the office at the same time.”

  “You’re that confident she’ll say yes.” Evan tried to sound jovial but the news had rocked him to his core.

  “Of course.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve caught the bug, man. Who the hell is going to keep me from flying off the handle at every little thing?”

  “I’m in a relationship, not moving to the other side of the world. I won’t be giving up my job anytime soon.”

  Maybe not yet. “We’ll see.”

  “You have my word that I am still committed to what we do. But I need to find some balance.” He sighed. “Mel…she’s good for me. I’m a better person around her.”

  For some reason Evan’s mind drifted to Stella and all the things he’d done since she’d come back into his life. He’d cooked dinner, enjoyed a meal out without working on his laptop or taking calls. Hell, he’d gone ice-skating. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d taken so much time out to relax and enjoy himself.

  And he did enjoy himself with her. The past seemed farther away, his fears seemed more manageable. Crap. He’d been such a dick to her this morning, piling all his own bullshit onto her. Putting pressure on her.

  “So what was the deal with you flirting with Stella last week then, huh?” Evan asked.

  “Oh, that. I wanted to see if it rattled you.” Matt chuckled. “I got the feeling she was special, so I was curious if you’d stopped being a blind idiot about it.”

  Evan grunted. “You’re such a nob.”

  “Yes, but it comes from a good place. Anyway, I gotta run. Don’t go too hard on Mel, okay?”

  “Find me some new contractors and we’ll see.”

  He hung up the phone and turned on his heel. There was no point avoiding Stella; they had a long drive ahead of them and the last thing he wanted was to sit in awkward silence. In addition, Matt’s words had made an impact on him. The whole speech had struck something inside him. A need. A desire.

  That’s why he was so desperate to get his hands on the Jackson Estate. It wasn’t just about becoming a hotelier and chasing that enormous pipe dream; it was about family. About making a home for himself. If he had the estate then he’d have a base, he could pull back on these other stressful projects and ground himself with something more long-term. He’d never connected that flipping properties worked for him because it was all about the short-term engagements. Buy, upgrade, sell, move on. They were property flings.

  But maybe he was ready for something permanent. An idea hatched in his mind as he walked, something that would solve two of his problems at once. All he had to do was convince Stella to give him another chance.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After an awkward ride back to the estate where Evan tried to m
ake conversation and Stella did her best to zone out, she sat on her bed staring out the window. His prediction was right, snow had fallen while they were gone and now it blanketed the hills in glittering white. Any minute she expected to see Santa floating in the sky with his reindeer, since it looked so much like a Christmas card. Too bad she wasn’t feeling particularly festive.

  As the day drew closer her mind was filled with memories of her grandfather. The day she’d held his hand and given him her word that she’d come back to the estate had been the hardest of her life. Because it was the day they both admitted that he wasn’t going to make it. She’d never seen the old man cry before, yet when his paper-thin lips—dehydrated from the medication that pumped through his veins—quivered and a tear escaped those still-vibrant blue-green eyes—her eyes—her heart splintered.

  It was a chasm that could never be closed.

  Gritting her teeth, she thumped her fist onto the bedspread. She was still smarting from her argument with Evan—his words had cut her more deeply than she wanted to admit. He’d made her feel like a fool. Did it only take a man showing a little interest for her to question her stance on relationships? To put her heart on the line?

  Had she learned nothing?

  Her grandfather’s time capsule sat on her dresser. It beckoned to her, but she was too strung out to look through it now. Her emotions had been on enough of a roller coaster for one day.

  Pushing up from the bed, she made her way downstairs to find Ethel in the sitting room. Stella’s heart swelled, she had a lot of affection for the older woman—in some ways she reminded Stella of herself. She was small, but she didn’t take any crap and she ran a tight, efficient ship. No fuss, no drama.

  “I heard our dear boy Evan was being a bit difficult this afternoon.” Her eyes crinkled, and she motioned for Stella to sit in front of the fire with her.

  Stella dropped onto the couch and smiled. “I’m assuming those words didn’t come from him?”

  “Let’s call it an interpretation,” she said, a rue smile pulling at the corners of her thin lips. “He’s a strong-willed young man.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “But he means well.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Stella rolled her eyes.

  “It’s a nice life here.” Her voice was soft, and Stella felt the sharp pang of guilt in her gut once more. “For all of us.”

  Stella knew she had a responsibility to the staff at the estate to find the right person to take over. Someone who wanted to sweep the slate clean would put them all out of a job, whereas Evan would likely keep them on.

  “Why are you still working here?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. “If it’s about the money, I’m sure we can work something out. My grandfather wanted to take care of the people here.”

  “I don’t like charity,” Ethel said, her lips pursed. She squared her small, hunched shoulders as best she could and poked Stella in the chest with one finger. “I earn my keep.”

  Stella swallowed against the tight feeling in her throat. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with the estate. I don’t know who I’m going to sell it to.”

  “That’s your decision to make, dear.” There wasn’t a hint of malice in her words, none of the combative fire that Evan had shown her earlier. “What will be, will be.”

  “It’s not because I need the money. I don’t.” The words tumbled out of her, her desperation to ease the burden opening the floodgates. “But I can’t keep this place. I feel like I won’t be able to let go and move on while it’s still hanging around my neck.”

  “I understand.” Ethel patted her arm.

  “But I want someone to take good care of it, just like Grandad did for all those years.” She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes while she tried to force it all down. The loneliness, the fear, the anger. It swelled within her like a rising tide, breaking down her barriers and pulling her back to a time when it had been okay to cry, when she’d sought the comfort of an adult’s arms without fear of judgment.

  “It won’t stop. You can stay here or not, you can sell this place to whomever you like but that feeling doesn’t just go away. Trust me.” Ethel pulled Stella into an embrace, her arms like a vice around Stella’s shoulders. “But you need to be the one to make the decision, not anyone else.”

  In that moment, having someone hug her was the best feeling in the world. It was like she’d been starving for it. Over Ethel’s shoulder she could see Evan propped up against the doorway, watching them. His arms were folded across his chest, the leather of his jacket pulling tightly across his biceps. He filled the doorway almost completely, broad shoulders blocking the view to the next room and his head only just swooped under the top of the frame.

  He’d felt that big when he was on top of her, he’d covered her completely and she’d relished the security she felt in his arms. Closing her eyes, Stella winced. Mad as she was, having him near stirred all kinds of crazy emotions. Even after their argument.

  “It’s okay, dear.” Ethel leaned back and patted her on the arm again. “We’ve all experienced great loss in this household.”

  Stella nodded, her eyes on Evan.

  “Maybe we should have an early dinner tonight?” His deep timbre rumbled from across the room. “I think it’s been a long day for everyone.”

  “Good idea.” Ethel stood. “I’ll go to the kitchen and see what the cook has planned.”

  Ethel left, leaving Stella and Evan alone. He stayed in the doorway, his eyes lingering on her. She ran her palms down the front of her jeans, trying to alleviate the need to fidget, but her hands had to do something—and if she didn’t keep them busy she might reach for him in a moment of weakness. She looked away, trying to discreetly wipe the tears from her eyes. He’d seen more than she wanted, and not just today.

  He strode across the room, stopping to sit on the arm of the couch in front of her with his ankle resting atop his thigh.

  “So it’s come to my attention that I was a bit of a wanker this morning.” The way he said it sounded like an apology even though he hadn’t exactly come out and said sorry. “Keeping my calm around you requires a lot of effort, apparently.”

  “Clearly you haven’t put enough effort in today.”

  “I know.” His expression softened and she figured it was as close to a peace offering as she would get. After all, if he didn’t want to be around her then he wouldn’t be sitting across from her now.

  “I’m still mad at you for trying to force me into a decision,” she said. “It’s my decision and I know I’m taking a long time, but it’s important and…”

  And making a decision meant letting go once and for all.

  The reality hit her out of nowhere. Her hesitation wasn’t just about finding the right buyer; it was about coming to grips with the reality that she had to move on. For real. Saying it and doing it were entirely different and she was clutching to limbo by deliberating on her options.

  “I understand.”

  The temptation to throw all the conflict aside and push herself into his arms was real. Desire clouded her thought process. Anchored to the chair, she looked him up and down. “What’s going on here?”

  “Here?”

  “Between us.”

  He looked away. Stella couldn’t ever remember feeling so torn before, even when her ex was dragged out of their apartment by police officers she hadn’t felt the turmoil that Evan stirred within her. There had even been a tiny spark of relief when she realized she wouldn’t be getting married, but now she had this incredibly frustrating man who wanted nothing more than her property…and yet she yearned for him in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

  “Or am I wrong in assuming there’s something between us?” She swallowed the fear that rose up in her throat as she asked the question. She wasn’t one to back down, even when he could lay her flat on her back with a simple one-word answer.

  If she even got an answer…

  “Say something.”
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  “I don’t know.” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. It fell over his eyes in that shaggy, tousled way that she’d grown to love.

  Love? That was far too strong a word, wasn’t it?

  “Either there is something between us or there isn’t.” Stella stood and walked to where he sat on the other side of the coffee table. The fire flickered to their side, warming her cheeks. “I don’t do meaningless. Even a fling has to have some feeling. Otherwise what’s the point?”

  “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of feeling.” His voice was low, rough. He reached for her, wrapped his hands around her wrists and drew her close to him. “What happened to leaving this behind in London?”

  “We’re not very good at playing by the rules, are we?”

  She knew she was putting her heart in harm’s way. The man was actively conspiring to manipulate her and she was letting herself get too close. But being near him felt so good—it eased the ache in her chest and the pounding in her head. It made her feel whole again.

  “We have no future together.” His head tilted up to her while his thumbs stroked her wrists. “Your time here will be up soon. You’ll head back to Australia and I’ll still be here, whether you sell the estate to me or not.”

  “You’re supposed to be convincing me to stay, remember?” She swallowed. “That’s our bet.”

  “I’m tired of the bet, Stella. I’m tired of the games.” He brought her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips against her palm. “Can’t we just…forget about it all?”

  Their time together had a shelf life, and after she left she would either sell the estate to someone else and be his enemy, or sell it to him and fade from his memory. They had no hope of anything beyond the next two weeks.

  “Playing games hasn’t really worked for me so far,” she said.

  “Me either.”

  She brought her lips down to his for a hot, open-mouthed kiss. The taste of him almost buckled her knees, but his arms provided support. His stubble-lined jaw scratched her chin as his lips devoured her cheeks, neck, and everywhere else he could reach. Heat flowed through her and an echoing throb started deep in her sex, filling her with a finely tuned awareness. Each breath, each hair on his arm, each tiny murmur—she could feel it all as though it were the greatest thing on earth.