by Nadia Lee
“Why don’t you entertain your elderly guests instead of worrying about me?” he said coldly.
“Elderly guests?” She sputtered. “That’s my great uncle-in-law and his lady friend.”
“So? It’s not like you like him.”
She pulled back. “I do like him. And Stella, too. She’s really nice.”
“She’s always been known for being nice. One of the few sane people in our circle.”
“I suppose so.”
“Anyway, have fun with them. Time for me to fetch my woman.” Who was currently dancing with one of Jane’s brothers. Silas was the name.
He was both the youngest of the clan and the lankiest. Probably couldn’t eat enough to get stocky like his brothers. Currently Silas was staring at Sophia like she was god’s gift to mankind, and although he wasn’t wrong, Dane didn’t like it that the kid was holding her so closely. There should’ve been at least ten inches of space between the torsos.
Ideally they shouldn’t touch at all.
“Excuse me,” Dane said, while thinking, Get the hell away from my woman.
Silas smiled sheepishly and slunk away after getting a look at Dane’s expression. Sophia chided him gently. “You didn’t have to be so mean.”
“He was holding you like he wanted the two of you to fuse together,” he said, as he pulled her in until there was no space between them.
“I can’t believe you’re jealous, when you know I only have eyes for you.”
“Do you?”
She laid her cheek on his chest and closed her eyes. “Yes.” She sighed. “It was an amazing ceremony.”
“It was,” he agreed. It had come together much better than he’d expected.
She tilted her head so she could look at him. “I thought their vows were romantic too.”
“They were.” And he would’ve given everything to be at the altar saying his vows to her.
They swayed until the music ended. Her eyes grew dim and distant.
“Pensive,” he said, as he led her away from the dancing crowd. He plucked two flutes of champagne off a tray and handed her one.
She accepted it, but didn’t sip. “Watching Iain and Jane got me thinking…”
Dane waited, his body going tense. It could be anything with Sophia. She’d always done the unexpected, kept him on his toes.
“I want to take the test.”
It took him a moment. “You…what?”
“The test. To see if I have it or not.” She didn’t have to clarify. “I need to know before I can make a decision, and I’ve been cowardly about the whole thing.”
“The results won’t change how I feel about you.”
“I know, but… I want to spare you, well…potential misery.”
“Not making you mine in every way is the ultimate misery, Sophia.”
She wrapped an arm around him and rested her head over his heart. “It makes me unhappy too. I’ve let my fears paralyze me, and it’s about time I stepped up. The labs are probably unavailable until after the holidays, so we should go in after spending New Year’s in Bora Bora and…” She exhaled softly.
She didn’t have to finish. He knew how scary the step was for her, the outcome potentially life altering for both of them. He held her tight. He would will the result to be what they both wished for. There was simply no other possibility, not only for himself, but for her. She’d already suffered and given up so much in her life. She was due for some good fortune.
“No matter what, we’ll figure things out together. I’m not letting you go.” He ran the backs of his fingers along the gentle slope of her cheeks. “Thank you for doing this.”
“Thank you for being by my side,” she said, her eyes luminous.
“Of course I’ll be there for you.” He pressed his lips to her warm forehead. “I love you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Present time!” Vivian cried when the clock struck nine. “It’s Christmas somewhere in the world.”
“New York,” Mark said drolly.
“Or Paris.” This time from Wes.
Standing in a shadowed corner, Ceinlys watched the guests converge toward the piles of presents under the giant trees.
“Not going to see what you got?” Salazar asked from behind her.
She didn’t turn around. She already knew he looked absolutely dashing in his black suit. Given the venue and the general formality—or lack thereof—he’d chosen an expertly tailored three-piece suit from Italy rather than a tux, and he always looked incredible in his suits. “Not yet. Let the children have their fun.”
“It was a beautiful ceremony.”
“All that matters is that Iain and Jane are happy.”
“They are. Thank you.”
At that, she turned, searched his earnest face. “For what?”
“For all this.” He gestured. “I probably would’ve ruined it by being stubborn.”
She shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t have. You would’ve done the right thing to make it perfect.” She patted his chest without thinking, then quickly withdrew her hand. “I’m sorr—“
He caught the hand and pulled it back against his heart, which was beating steadily, albeit a bit too fast. “Ceinlys. There’s something I want to give you.”
“What?” she murmured, not quite looking at him. She’d thought she’d made the right decision to move away, but now that the time was almost upon her, she felt…an odd misgiving.
Maybe it was the nightmare she’d had. She’d dreamed she was alone in a beautiful field full of flowers, Salazar nowhere to be found no matter where she looked or how many times she called out his name. As she stood on her own in that gorgeous sunny place, she felt like her soul was rending.
“This.” He handed her a key.
“What is it?”
“The key to the grove. Opens both the house and main gate.”
Her head came up. “But I told you I don’t want any claim to the place. It’s been with your family for generations.”
“I know what you said, but the grove is as much yours as it is mine. You loved that place…what we shared there.”
She didn’t take it. She couldn’t. She was leaving for Provence. What did it matter?
“I also decided on the name for Danny’s new roses.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Ceinlys.”
“Yes?”
“No…the roses. I named them Ceinlys.”
The news sent warm pleasure unfurling inside her, but she kept her expression neutral. “But why?”
“Why? Why not? Shouldn’t I name them after the most stunning woman I’ve ever met in my life?”
She looked at him. Why was he doing this? They were divorced, and he knew she was leaving next month.
“Dane talked to me at the rehearsal dinner,” he said suddenly.
“I saw.” Dane had looked uncomfortable, which he’d disguised by making his expression even more foreboding, and Salazar had looked like he’d been punched in the gut after Dane had finished. She’d wondered what they’d said to each other, but she hadn’t inquired. They had their right to privacy.
“He wanted to tell me what you told him some months ago.”
She tilted her head, unsure what it could be.
“Something about the merging of souls and pride.”
Her mouth opened. Suddenly her throat felt dry, and she licked her lips. “It was nothing.”
“And he added something else.”
“Did he?”
“He said it’s never too late unless we’re dead.”
She choked. That was so like Dane.
“That we’re only in our sixties.” Salazar let out a snort. “He apparently thinks I’m going to live to a hundred.”
“You might.” Shirley certainly had lived for a long time, and Salazar was in excellent health.
“Ceinlys…” He hesitated. “Do you… Do you think he’s right?”
But even as she said, “I don’t know,” she couldn’t help but won
der…
She’d told Dane it was too late for her and Salazar because they’d already hurt each other too much. But… Was that all there was to their marriage? Even though they’d done things out of pride and insecurity, not everything had been awful. In the beginning…before their lives had gone off course…it had been amazing.
And since their last lunch together, she’d had a lot of time to think, reflect. She’d never have guessed the reason he eventually gave her the divorce she’d sought. And there was the realization she’d been unhappy.
“We were married for so long,” she said finally. “We could be just going through some kind of withdrawal after the divorce.” Fear made her say it, but disquiet stirred inside her. Why was she so afraid still? Why couldn’t she just tell him?
But could she take another failure?
“Is that really it? Just withdrawal? If all we wanted was companionship, we would’ve found lovers.”
“Didn’t you?” But she knew the answer even before he said it. He hadn’t had a mistress since the day she’d served him with the divorce papers.
“No.”
She looked away. Honesty. She’d made a vow to herself that she would never lie to protect her pride. She’d seen how that had gone. “I don’t know if I can go through it again. We’ve just gotten divorced, just gotten things settled between us.”
His gaze darkened. “Are you happier now?”
She considered her response. She wasn’t happy per se. Just relieved she wasn’t hurting her children any more with the toxic dysfunction she and Salazar had created. But wasn’t that partially her fault as well? It seemed incredible how one careless lie could destroy so much. A ship goes a half a degree off course, and a thousand miles later it ends up docking on a different continent. That was how their marriage had gone.
“No. I’m just…divorced,” she said finally.
“Look, I’m not asking you to marry me or even move in with me. I’m just asking for a chance to put laugh lines here…and here.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Breathing out softly, she curled her hand around his. “I don’t even know if we can.”
“I’ve learned a lot in the last several months. And if Dane’s right about me living until one hundred, that’s over three decades left to make you happy. I promised you that, didn’t I?”
“You did. In writing.” She remembered every word of his love letters.
“You can leave at any time. There aren’t any formal ties between us. And you won’t have any of the expectations that come with being a Pryce. Hell, if it’s not too late for that old goat Barron to romance a woman, I don’t see why it should be for me.”
Ceinlys closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder. Her hand rested over his chest, and she could feel his heart racing. “It shouldn’t. So, we would just be…dating.”
“Right. No strings.”
“Well…perhaps that would work. We should start with coffee. Isn’t that what young people do these days?”
“Fine by me. I like coffee, and I know you’re partial to macchiato.”
“You remember.”
“Of course I remember. So let’s go.”
“Is there anywhere in this city that makes a decent macchiato?”
“Nope.” He was smiling, a mischievous gleam in his eye.
She slowly realized what he meant. “Salazar, you can’t be serious. All the way to Florence? For coffee?”
“For really good coffee.”
She let her mind drift back, recalling the Etruscan landscape, the buildings with arched windows. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“Yup. Plus, what’s the point of having a private jet if you can’t go anywhere you want at any time?”
“Because…” She stopped. “You know…you’re right.”
He pressed his lips on the crown of her head. “I love it when you say that. But most importantly I love it when you’re by my side.”
A small smile curled her lips. “One step at a time.”
“One step at a time.” He tightened his arm around her. “So…should we tell the kids?”
She watched them laughing and hugging each other as they unwrapped their gifts. “No. It can wait. I don’t want to be bombarded with questions tonight, do you?”
“Nope. Let ’em wonder.” He gave a low chuckle. “Now let’s get out of here and get that coffee.”
She let him lead her out of the restaurant, her heart full of contentment and hope.
——
Thank you for reading The Billionaire’s Holiday Bride. I hope you enjoyed it.
Would you like to know when my next book is available? Then go to my website at www.nadialee.net/newsletter to join my new release alert.
Thank you for being a part of the Pryce family. But you don’t have to say goodbye! You’ll see your favorite familiar faces and meet some new ones in A Hollywood Deal, the first book in Billionaires’ Brides of Convenience series, featuring the Pryce cousins.
A Hollywood Deal (Billionaires’ Brides of Convenience Book 1)
I’m used to cleaning up after my boss, Hollywood superstar and all-around bad boy Ryder Pryce-Reed. Nothing can shock me now—not the countless “humped and dumped” women or the wreckage left in the wake of his wild ways—until he asks me to marry him…
…for a year.
He says it’s strictly so he can claim his beloved grandfather’s painting, but I know there’s more. There’s always more with Ryder.
My instincts say no, but he’s offering to take care of the baby in my womb. Since my self-centered ex isn’t going to play the father, I say yes, while steeling my heart. I can’t afford to fall for a man who only wants me for a year.
But how can I resist the sexiest man alive when he turns on his formidable charm to give everyone a good show? And how does a simple girl like me deal with the spotlight as his fiancée…or the scandal that explodes in our faces?
Note: This book contains a cliffhanger ending.
Turn the page for the first chapter from A Hollywood Deal!
What’s Next
A Hollywood Deal (Billionaires’ Brides of Convenience Book 1)
I’m used to cleaning up after my boss, Hollywood superstar and all-around bad boy Ryder Pryce-Reed. Nothing can shock me now—not the countless “humped and dumped” women or the wreckage left in the wake of his wild ways—until he asks me to marry him…
…for a year.
He says it’s strictly so he can claim his beloved grandfather’s painting, but I know there’s more. There’s always more with Ryder.
My instincts say no, but he’s offering to take care of the baby in my womb. Since my self-centered ex isn’t going to play the father, I say yes, while steeling my heart. I can’t afford to fall for a man who only wants me for a year.
But how can I resist the sexiest man alive when he turns on his formidable charm to give everyone a good show? And how does a simple girl like me deal with the spotlight as his fiancée…or the scandal that explodes in our faces?
Note: This book contains a cliffhanger ending.
——
Three Rules for Those Working for Ryder Reed
One. Don’t be surprised by anything. This is Hollywood.
Two. Don’t ask favors from the boss. You aren’t the only one with friends who are trying to break into acting.
Three. Don’t fall for him.
Paige
The immaculate hall is shaking with music as I follow the hotel manager and security personnel in crisp suits. It’s after one in the morning, but when my job calls, I roll out of my bed and put on my work clothes.
This time, I need to save my boss from himself.
The manager slides his keycard over the electronic lock. “After you, Ms. Johnson.”
As soon as I open the door, my skull throbs to the beat of the incredibly loud music. I’m surprised my eardrums don’t explode.
It’s dim inside, but I can make out women, either barely dressed or altoge
ther nude, gyrating everywhere. If they think they can get anything even remotely long term out of Ryder, one of Hollywood’s biggest stars and baddest boys, they should give up now. Ryder doesn’t have relationships. He has the H&D—the Humped and Dumped.
Yeah. Some reporter who considers himself a lot wittier than he is coined that term for the groupies Ryder allegedly slept with.
I sniff. The suite smells like booze, sweat and perfume.
And pot.
“Dear God, or whatever being is looking out for me, don’t let it be Ryder smoking pot,” I mutter under my breath.
And no hard drugs. Ryder doesn’t have a history of doing drugs, but you never know. After all, it is Hollywood…and he has too much money and too much time on his hands these days.
And he’s looking for an excuse—any excuse—not to have to travel tomorrow.
I flip the light switch on, prompting more than a few people to suddenly shield their eyes, and search for the source of the music. I can’t even hear myself think in this noise. Finally, I spot the plug and pull it out. The music dies, thank god, even as groans and curses come my way.
“Turn that back on, you bitch!” one of the women yells.
“Shut up before I call the cops on all of you,” I say in my no nonsense voice. I turn to the hotel manager and his security team. “Can you get the women out of here? I’ll deal with Ryder.”
The security detail, all guys, look over the heaving sea of scantily clad female flesh and nod. At least someone will have some fun tonight.
The suite’s a mess. The floor is littered with the remains of gilt crackers, empty bottles of all types of liquor, and something black and slimy—probably caviar. The four vases sit empty, their flowers strewn everywhere. One of the bare-bottomed women is holding a lily in her butt crack.
There are a couple of prone and naked women on the grand piano in the corner with their eyes glazed over, and several others spread all over the living room area. They’re a sorry sight in the light, hair hanging down, and mascara and eyeliner smudged.
Almost all of them are of a type—young, tall, skinny with extra large breasts, thanks to implants. Their hair probably isn’t real either. I spot a few dark roots.
