Millionaire Under the Mistletoe

by Stefanie London

  She set the box down and opened her arms to him. The simple gesture evaporated his resolve and he scooped her up, holding her tight against him. Stroking her. Soothing her with a slow rocking motion. She didn’t cry, but her fingernails dug into his shoulders.

  “That’s quite a death grip you’ve got.” He nuzzled her hair. When she didn’t respond, he placed her down on the bed and wrapped himself around her.

  His belt dug uncomfortably into his side and his sweater was twisted around his torso like a straitjacket. But he didn’t want to move away.

  “I don’t know if I’m going to sell the estate after all,” she said, her face tilted up toward his. Staring down into the shimmering pools of green-blue he almost missed her words.

  But then they sank in. The estate. His dreams. “What do you mean?”

  She relayed the whole story to him—from finding the box to reading her grandfather’s letter, to sorting through the documents and photos. Ice clutched at his chest. In all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, this wasn’t one of them. Her history had blindsided them both.

  “The funny thing is,” she continued, pushing herself up into a sitting position. “I feel like everything I’ve ever worried about has been explained. I’m sad and shocked and angry but also…relieved.”

  Evan extracted himself from her and stood. Conflicting emotions raged inside him—on one hand he was happy that she’d found some clarity in her life, but it didn’t lessen his desire to have the estate for himself. To finally claim his connection to the one place in the world that felt like home.

  It’ll never be your home the way that it’s her home.

  “I grew up believing that my mother didn’t love me. I could never understand why she seemed so disinterested in me, especially after my father died. It was like she couldn’t stand to be around me.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I always wondered if I’d done something wrong…”

  “Of course not.”

  “My real mother looked so happy in the photos.” Stella’s lip trembled then, the first sign of emotion that she was so clearly trying to control. “So blissfully unaware of what was going to happen to her.”

  “It’s better that way.” He swallowed, pain surging through his chest as he remembered how his mother’s health had deteriorated. Death had hung over her for months before it finally arrived. On her lucid days she knew the end was coming, on the other days she didn’t even know her own name. He didn’t know which was worse.

  “Everything makes so much more sense now. There were so many fights between my mother and grandfather growing up that I now understand. So many arguments, so many dirty looks.”

  “And you want to keep the estate now?” The question came out rough, anticipation and frustration making for a harsh cocktail of emotion.

  “I don’t know.” Her gaze drifted to the window and she sighed. “Initially, I wanted to sell because this place felt like a noose around my neck. I thought I didn’t have any connection to it but being here, I started to remember. There were so many things I’d forgotten. And now, I feel…conflicted. I mean, how would I even run it from Australia?”

  The words crystallized to painful shards in his chest. Of course she would still leave, she’d already said so many times that she could never understand how people lived here. Which meant he would lose on all fronts—no estate and no Stella.

  “Guess I didn’t do a good job of convincing you to move here, then?” The words didn’t come out as light as he’d hoped they would and instead his question seemed to suck the life out of the room.

  “I thought we agreed no more games.”

  But that’s all it ever was between them, a game. A power struggle. Only she’d pulled the rug out from under his feet by changing the rules. It wasn’t personal, he knew that…but perhaps after the time they’d spent together, a little part of him had hoped it would be personal. Clearly, she wasn’t struggling with the idea of ending things like he was.

  “Say something, Evan.”

  “What’s there to say?” His walls shot up with a finality that echoed through his body. He wasn’t going to let her see that she’d blown a hole clean through his chest. “You’ve got a decision to make that doesn’t involve me. And I assume that means you have some bags to pack as well.”

  She blinked. “I’m not supposed to be leaving until Boxing Day.”

  “That’s fine. There’s plenty of space.”

  He left her room without a backward glance. If there was one thing he’d learned from losing people, it was that it was easier when you didn’t show how much it hurt.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hot water rushed over Stella’s body, the usually calming sensation doing nothing to soothe the anxious fluttering in her chest. It was true what she’d said, she’d felt relieved…until the very moment Evan had left her bedroom. Something about the way he looked at her before had sent chills down her spine. That cold, unfeeling gaze was back—the same one she’d experienced earlier in her trip. He’d put up a barrier between them.

  Was it possible that he was going to discard her now that he might not get what he wanted from her…as if what they’d shared was nothing?

  She couldn’t bring herself to believe his passion was just a ploy. But the evidence was damning. Part of her had hoped that when she’d mentioned going back to Brisbane that he would protest, that he would try to convince her to stay. That he would say anything other than you have bags to pack.

  Besides, she hadn’t cemented her decision yet. Was keeping the estate the right thing to do? If she did, what then? A voice in the back of her head niggled, whispering to her that she had nothing to go home to. But it wasn’t like she had anything here, either. Keeping the estate wouldn’t bring her grandfather back, it wouldn’t bring her real mother back. And as for Evan…

  Well, who knew if what they’d shared was anything more than a negotiation tactic.

  Frowning, Stella turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower. She reached for a towel and wrapped herself up. Fog coated the mirror and she swiped her hand over it, creating a palm-sized line of clarity. The reflection staring back at her wasn’t a pretty picture—swollen eyes, splotchy cheeks. A downturned mouth.

  She’d held the tears until the spray had hit her face, masking them enough that she could let go. It was something she’d learned growing up. Crying never ended well—her mother would become frustrated and put more distance between them. Her grandfather would fuss too much, stifling her instead of letting her cry it out. So she learned to cover her tracks and the shower provided the perfect shield.

  An ache settled into her chest. Everything felt wrong—fighting with Evan, the thought of going home.

  Talking to Evan would be the only thing that helped because she couldn’t leave without knowing how he felt. Without knowing if she was a means to an end. Either way, getting to the truth was better than a lifetime of wondering.

  She laughed, the sound echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom. Who was she? A month ago there was no way in hell she would have given Evan a chance. After all, love was a word used by people trying to trick you into handing something over. It was a figment of people’s imaginations created by Hollywood to sell movies.

  But after reading the letters her father had written, she couldn’t deny that he’d been deeply in love with her real mother. She’d experienced the protective love her grandfather had showered on her, but she’d never witnessed what it meant to be in love.

  Until now.

  The words her father had used described how she felt about Evan with frightening accuracy. The glow that came over her when they were together, the feeling of completeness she found in his arms, the ache whenever he left. All these things she’d ignored—written off as side effects of too many years spent alone—were actually indicators of love.

  A lump lodged in her throat. But what if this was just a business deal for him? What if he didn’t want her?

  She had to know.

/>   Her grandfather had always taught her that fortune rewarded the brave. Until now she’d assumed he was talking about taking risks in business. But it wasn’t that, it was about taking risks in life.

  She changed into her clothes and tucked her father’s photo into her pocket for luck. It would be her talisman. Letting out a long breath, she flattened her palms to her belly to quiet the butterflies there.

  This is it. You can either remain scared of getting hurt, or you can take control for once in your damn life.

  Control. For so long she’d thought that was about building barriers, but now she knew that wasn’t it. It was about not letting life pass her by.

  She was going to tell Evan that she loved him.

  …

  Evan toed his boots off and knocked them together to remove the excess mud and snow. The walk down to the cottage had been slippery, but he’d relished the harsh bite of cold against his cheeks and nose. The snow was already melting, not surprising since it didn’t often hang around much until later in the season.

  He opened the front door and hung his coat on a hook. The cottage smelled of wood polish and sawdust. Matt had put the finishing touches on the kitchen cabinets. The new countertop had been installed, along with a generous farmhouse sink in a stainless steel with a brushed nickel faucet. He could already see Ethel here, washing vegetables from the garden and making soup in a huge pot. It would suit her, this simple little home that was close to her old friends and colleagues, and surrounded by natural beauty.

  All traces of the cottage he’d grown up in were gone. He didn’t see his mother now when he looked at the kitchen table. He didn’t see her work-worn hands peeling potatoes or her blissful smile when she sucked in the scent of freshly brewed tea. Those memories had been sanded away, painted over, buffed out.

  Gone, like her.

  He walked into the lounge room and pulled the plastic off one of the wingback chairs. Matt had found a pair going cheap from a local furniture showroom. Evan sank down, curling his hands over the arms.

  He needed to man up and face Stella. Have one last shot at convincing her to sell the estate and, at the very least, let Ethel move into the cottage. It was high time he refocused on what mattered: his work. He’d been blinded by Stella the last few weeks—sucked in to believing that maybe he could escape the mistake his mother made. That maybe he could pursue love and win.

  But it was a joke. A derailment of his plans.

  Of course he knew she’d planned to go home, but if the thought of keeping her birthplace didn’t tempt her to stay…well, fuck. He sure as hell didn’t have a chance. And he wasn’t about to set himself up for failure. Matt might think there needed to be more work-life balance, but Evan was convinced the other stuff slowed him down. And his job didn’t kick him in the balls like everything else did.

  If he wanted to buy a hotel and cement his future, then he needed to be one-track minded. No more dalliances with Stella, no more delusions about love. No more screwing about—in the literal or metaphorical sense.

  He was done with relationships once and for all.

  A knock at the cottage’s front door startled Evan and he pushed up from the chair to see who’d interrupted his thinking time. Even before he opened the door, he could feel her presence.

  “Hi.” Stella was wrapped up in a thick coat, her face half-buried in a fluffy scarf. Pink dotted her cheeks and the tip of her nose, and she bounced on the spot while rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “Can I come in?”

  He held the door for her. “How did you know I was here?”

  “An educated guess.” She stripped off the scarf and her boots, but left her coat on. The cottage was chilly, since they hadn’t been keeping it warm while it was vacant. And she wasn’t used to the cold the way he was. “Wow, I didn’t know there were renovations going on. Did Grandad plan this?”

  He cleared his throat. “Uh, no, he didn’t.”

  Her gaze swept over the space and she ran her hand along the new dining table as she walked. “I don’t understand.”

  “My company has taken care of the upgrade.”

  “Why would you do that?” Her brows furrowed. “You didn’t know whether or not I’d sell this place to you. It’s a bit of a gamble.”

  “It is and it isn’t.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Actually, I’ve been searching for a house for Ethel for a while. She’s going to be seventy soon and I know she wants to retire. But all she knows is this estate, she’s frightened of living somewhere else and losing her sense of community.”

  “And you were hoping that I’d let her move in here.”

  “I figured paying for the renovations might sweeten the deal.”

  Her eyes glimmered. “You could have just asked. Of course she can stay here, I wouldn’t put her out on the street. She’s been so kind to me.”

  Something shifted in his chest, like the wall around his heart had cracked a little. “I didn’t want her to live without the creature comforts.”

  You’ve been over this, Foss. It’s not worth the pain, it’s not worth the distraction.

  “Looks like you’ve done a lot. I wouldn’t even be able to tell that it’s the same place.” She interlaced her fingers in front of her. “Want to give me the grand tour?”

  “Sure.” He motioned for her to follow him through the cottage.

  They walked, Stella silent and Evan explaining all the things they’d updated from the new flooring to the double-glazed windows, which would keep the heat in and make the cottage more energy efficient. It didn’t take long to get through the small structure, but Stella’s eyes were bulging.

  “Wow, who would have thought it needed so much work,” she said as they took a seat in the kitchen. “I’d assumed a fresh coat of paint would do the trick.”

  “It’s an old building and it needed some TLC. But it sounds more difficult than it is—we didn’t make any structural changes or mess with anything fiddly. We had a few contractors that owed us, so it was done very quickly.”

  “It’s an incredible transformation. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.” Stella nodded.

  Silence settled over them. The snow had deadened everything outside, blanketed the estate in a hush. They could have been in the middle of the wilderness for how quiet it was.

  “It makes me wonder how I would even take care of the estate.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know the first thing about caring for an old building. I wouldn’t even know if it needed much work or how to go about it.”

  “The estate needs specialist care, someone who’s familiar with the building codes here. Someone who knows how to get through the planning permissions process. Someone that knows the land, the weather, the people.”

  “Someone like you,” she said softly.

  “You have my word, I’ll take excellent care of this place, Stella.”

  …

  Why couldn’t he have said I’ll take excellent care of you instead?

  This was the second time Stella had sat in the cottage with Evan this month, but the two instances felt a lifetime apart. She’d known nothing about him then, not really. She hadn’t known that he was kind and loyal, that he took his place on earth seriously. That he could make her feel like she’d healed all the scars on her battered heart.

  “I know you’d take good care of it,” she said, the words catching in her throat. Damn it, why was this so hard? “That was never in question.”

  “Then what is in question?”

  Her poor brain couldn’t figure out how to order the words. “Part of me is worried that if I let it go then I’ll have lost my last tie to my family.”

  “It’s bricks and mortar, Stella. Your last tie to your family is everything in the box that Nicholas left you.” His face was calm and smooth, his expression told her nothing. “Trust me. This place is a lot of work—if you’re not going to even be here, then what’s the point?”

  “Maybe we’re the point.”

  He couldn�
�t have looked more shocked than if she’d suggested turning the estate into a spaceship. “We?”

  “It’s a word that means a pairing,” she said with a nervous smile. “You and I.”

  A pit formed in Stella’s stomach as he shook his head, his eyes avoiding hers. The pit turned to full-on regret as he raked a hand through his hair, a long sigh escaping his lips. She’d been here before—alone with him, baring herself. Being vulnerable. Facing his rejection.

  Oh, God, how could I have put myself in this position again?

  Bile rushed up the back of her throat and she fought it back, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the table. The past was about to repeat itself. What the hell had she been thinking? Falling for Evan was the most epic of mistakes. He didn’t want her the first time and he didn’t want her now.

  “There is no we, Stella.” He finally looked up—his green eyes a mirror image of the ones that’d been burned into her memory. Cold, remote, and yet tinted with pity.

  “Of course there’s not.” She shoved back her chair so hard it almost toppled over. “I have no idea what I was thinking.”

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m not the right person to take care of this estate and you know it.” He’d stood, too, and she felt his shadow encompass her. “I can turn this place into something magnificent. Something that would make Nicholas proud.”

  Better that one of them made her grandfather proud, because she sure as hell wasn’t. Her shock morphed into something darker, the weight of her trip and her grief and the discovery of her past crashing down on her like a thick, black avalanche. Sucking her under until the lack of air burned like fire in her lungs.

  “Did you suddenly grow a conscience?” she asked.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, this was about the estate all along, wasn’t it? You were sleeping with me to try and win the bet, then when you saw I was breaking down you let me believe that bet didn’t matter.” Tears pricked the backs of her eyes but she forced them away. She’d be damned if he saw her cry now. “It was just a ploy, wasn’t it? To get me to trust you.”