A Christmas Billionaire

by Maggie Marr

  A CHRISTMAS BILLIONAIRE

  By Maggie Marr

  This book is dedicated to Elizabeth Leahy.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  About This Series

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by Maggie Marr

  An Excerpt from Can’t Buy Me Love

  Chapter One

  Once upon a time, Nick North had believed in love. He’d believed in Christmas. He might, if asked, have told you he even believed in happily ever after. But the Nick North who wanted to believe in a future that contained a wife and children and a happily-ever-after was gone. Killed by a dream that had died. His heart had frozen solid on a Christmas Eve night long ago.

  People who knew Nick, with his tall, muscular body and his eyes the cold gray of a cloudy winter sky, might even be able to pinpoint the moment that carefree young man who had been unencumbered by heartbreak had died, though the people who knew the details wouldn’t have dared discuss such a topic in front of Nick. If anyone ever missed the old Nick, the warm and jovial man he’d been before that frozen Christmas Eve, before the night that turned his heart to ice, they never uttered the words of their distress in front of him.

  Some people, those who didn’t know about Nick’s heartbreak, determined that his final semester of B-school had changed him. The work, his studies, his drive to succeed, his dogged determination to make billions of dollars and fulfill his family’s desires, killed the carefree Nick North. Nick became a hard-carved, heartless, cold-blooded capitalist. A man who saw only black and red, dollars and zeroes, profits and losses. A man who could quickly assess any business and whittle it down to its essence, squeeze out every penny, and just as easily toss the business aside, workers be damned. According to Nick North, there was no human side to business, there was nothing personal, there was simply business.

  Other people knew the truth of what had happened that long-ago December night. Those people—Nick’s inner circle, his mother, his now-deceased father, his sister, a couple of B-school classmates—realized the sad details of what had happened to Nick and his heart on Christmas Eve. An event that had turned a warmhearted, loving young man on the cusp of a bright and brilliant future into a cold-hearted son of a bitch.

  Nick avoided those who had known him before, those who understood his heartbreak, his change, his loss. Once his father passed, Nick purposely avoided his mother. His mother and his sister never spoke of Nick’s heartbreak. His B-school classmates who knew of his loss were scattered to the wind, tossed about on foreign corporate shores.

  And the woman? The woman who shattered his heart and dashed his hopes for a happily-ever-after? She was gone, and Nick hoped to never see her again. To see her those emerald eyes and that amber hair would drop him to his knees. He’d loved beyond what he’d thought himself capable of, and she’d left him, abandoned him, turned her back on his love. Gone was his future and his plans. His heart had split wide, and the cold, frigid air of a Chicago Christmas had seeped into the still-beating inner chambers and frozen him from the inside out.

  Nick North would never love again.

  With a frozen heart he focused on business. The coldness, the calculations, the dollars, the pursuit of profit engaged his brain. The hard, cold world he created with his own bare hands. Building after building after building, added to the immense portfolio of North Industries. Nick stood atop North Tower, hands grasped to hips, the Chicago skyline lay before him a slain beast at his feet. North Tower was the newest skyscraper to decorate Chicago’s skyline. Taller than Willis Tower, prettier than Trump, and soon to be better known than Hancock. This floor was reserved for him and his life and his work. Wind blasted the building and created a tiny sway beneath his feet. A blast of arctic cold could cause any one of the skyscrapers that graced the Chicago skyline to sway six, seven, as much as ten inches at a time.

  Let the cold wind blow.

  Nick preferred the frigid to the warm. The ice to the puddle. The gray to the sun. Cold was Nick’s dominion.

  The phone on his desk rang and he pressed the Bluetooth in his ear. “Is it done?”

  The long pause and the sigh from Frederick indicated that the one thing Nick wanted accomplished was still unfinished.

  “No, sir, it is not.”

  His jaw muscle tensed. Were Frederick not his most brilliant and trusted advisor, and a man Nick had been lucky to have in his life since he began North Industries, the heat building in his chest would rage forth. His frozen heart had not tamped down the heated fury that could warm his belly in a second.

  “Who the hell is this woman?”

  “Sir, she’s an activist who came to visit her grandmother for the holidays. When she discovered your plan to demolish Winter Pines and replace it with the Shopping Extravaganza, she went into action. And that, sir, is when the proverbial shit hit the fan.”

  “It’s been a week, Frederick. You should have assessed her weaknesses and her desires so that we might capitalize on those.”

  Beyond the wall of windows thick gray clouds with bruised, purple bellies rolled in from the west. Sleet sliced from the sky toward Michigan Avenue, where the ants of humanity scurried below.

  “Are you slipping, Frederick?”

  “Slipping, sir?”

  He turned toward his desk, which was sleek and hard and made of steel. “Yes, slipping.” His fingers curled around the black leather back of his chair. “Or do you have a soft spot for these people? Perhaps this woman whom you’ve failed to properly assess?”

  “No, sir,” Frederick said in his even, measured tone. So impudent that Nick could hear a smile in Frederick’s voice. “Not slipping, sir, merely trying to hold this deal together until Christmas.”

  “Christmas?” He might pierce the leather back of his seat with his fingertips. “You’re treading water until Christmas? My timeline dictates that we break ground this week. My intentions are to have that entire geriatric home demo’d by Christmas Eve. I want a hole where Winter Pines is by Christmas Day. Have I not been clear, Frederick?”

  “Crystal, sir.”

  Frederick was as smooth as ice and as old as a glacier. Few emotions ran through the man and that included fear, which was the primary reason he’d been in Nick’s employ for so long. Aside from Nick’s mother and sister, and of course the woman—the one woman whose name Nick refused to think or to say—every other person on the planet seemed to tremble in trepidation at Nick’s approach. He did not court the fear, he didn’t want the fear, nor did he need his employees and business associates to fear him, although it did help maintain the cold, frosty perimeter that surrounded him at all times. Distance, absence of warmth, created a safe distance from human contact, feelings and even the remote possibility of love.

  “This woman has shut us down for nearly five days,” Nick said. “I convinced the mayor, the city council, and the zoning board of that little suburban outpost to approve this construction. We hired local architects. We commissioned environmental and economic reports. I even offered buyouts to the residents of Winter Pines and paid for their moves. All was on track until this woman. How are this woman and her grandmother still there? How is she keeping my demolition team from starting?”

  “Chains, sir.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sh
e has chained herself to the front door of the central building, sir. As of this morning. Yesterday it was a sit-in, but the local police threatened to move them. Today she’s returned with chains and padlocks.”

  Nick closed his eyes. He tilted his head back, and a giant blast of air exited his lips. What kind of woman chained herself between a glass door and a wrecking ball? A twinge tightened his right shoulder. He’d known such a woman, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “I’ll be there within the hour.”

  “Excellent, sir,” Frederick said.

  Again Nick heard the smile in Frederick’s voice. What in the hell? Why was Frederick so excited to see Nick on-site when it was so obvious he was completely pissed off?

  “I think your coming to Lake Grove and seeing what is taking place at Winter Pines is an excellent idea.”

  “You understand I’m not happy about this, don’t you, Frederick?”

  “Yes, sir. Looking forward to your arrival.” Frederick hung up.

  Odd. Frederick hung up … Nick always hung up first when he finished a call with Frederick. It wasn’t that Frederick was any less responsive than he’d always been, but there was something in Frederick’s voice. Something unfamiliar, something unusual, something—

  A chill slid down Nick’s spine and goose bumps prickled across his skin. This wasn’t right. He strode through his office and out the door. He’d be in Lake Grove soon, and he’d fix this damned mess himself.

  *

  “How you doing out here, Noel? I brought you another cup of hot chocolate.”

  Another cup of hot chocolate and Noel’s bladder might explode. Mrs. Hyland’s blue eyes sparkled as she held out the cup to Noel. How could Noel say anything but thank you to Mrs. Hyland? The woman was closing in on eighty and she did make an excellent cup of cinnamon hot chocolate.

  “Ted will be out here soon to relieve you for a little bit.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hyland.”

  “Please, call me Evelyn.” She smiled at Noel. “How many times do I need to tell you?”

  “Thank you, Evelyn.” Noel tilted the hot chocolate to her lips. The burst of heat in her mouth caused her body to tingle. Damn, the cold. If it wasn’t for Nonna refusing to buy a retirement town house farther than thirty miles from downtown, Noel would be Christmasing someplace warm like Arizona or New Mexico… maybe even California.

  She stomped her feet. Sharp pins poked her toes. She’d lost feeling around noon. She blew her warm breath on her fingertips. She was quite certain that her lips were a pale shade of frostbite blue. She lifted her right hand and adjusted the thick chains that were secure around her waist. She’d been standing in this doorway since six a.m. This was her third day of protest, but her first day shackled to the front door of Winter Pines.

  Mrs. Hyland rubbed her hands over her upper arms. “Okay, dear, I’m going to check on Ted. I’d thought he’d be out here by now.” Mrs. Hyland turned the corner toward the steel fire door on the side of the building. Only residents of Winter Pines had a key. Even so, they’d barricaded it on the other side with the bingo table.

  One of the residents should be coming soon. Whether it was Ted or any one of the other residents didn’t matter to Noel. She simply needed to pee. She hated the idea of any of the inhabitants of Winter Pines standing outside in this cold, no matter what the cause. They were all simply too old and, in Noel’s opinion, too frail to have to fight this battle. But all the residents had agreed, after Noel’s community meeting, that they didn’t want some rich man from downtown stealing their homes, no matter what the mayor or city council of Lake Grove had agreed to.

  Unfortunately, no one was coming to their rescue. Her eyes locked onto the demolition crew. They loitered on the other side of the parking lot in their hard hats and steel-toed boots. They milled about their trucks, drinking coffee out of steaming thermoses, getting paid by some fat-cat real estate developer whether they did any work or not. A gang of destruction, just waiting for the door to the main building to become unmanned so that they might race into Winter Pines and forcibly remove the remaining tenants.

  Noel leaned forward at the waist to set her now-empty cup of hot chocolate on the table beside her. Her eyeglasses dropped from her face and hit the bricks below. Without her glasses she was nearly blind, and she couldn’t bend, turn, or kneel down to get them. Great—now not only did she need to pee, but she was also blind.

  Where was Ted? She stomped her feet and not simply because she was cold. She turned and pressed her nose to the glass of the front door. She squinted and cupped her hand around her eyes in an attempt to see if anyone was walking down the hall toward the side door.

  “Excuse me? Noel Klaus?”

  Noel whipped her head toward the voice. A tall woman with blond hair, blue eyes, and more makeup than a redneck prom queen stood in front of Noel on the brick steps of Winter Pines.

  “I’m Mary Crossmore, channel 32 news. I came over to do a live feed for our five p.m. newscast.”

  A cameraman stood directly behind Mary. The thick, sweet scent of too much perfume wafted toward Noel and she squeezed her eyes shut and wiggled her nose in an attempt not to sneeze.

  “I’m so happy you’re here.” Noel sniffed, tilted her head and rubbed the edge of her nose against the shoulder of her coat. “I’ve been standing here all day and now I have to pee, and wow, I didn’t think anyone was going to show up and do our story!”

  “Uh, right.” Mary took a step back. Noel closed her mouth. Her enthusiasm had been known to frighten the unsuspecting.

  “So, we’re live in five minutes. I think I have all your background. I have a couple of questions to ask once we’re on air. Anything specific you’d like for me to cover?”

  “Just that every Winter Pines residents is over seventy-five and that Winter Pines has been here for twenty-five years. The residents don’t want to move and especially not for a shopping mall. I mean, do we really need another shopping mall in Lake Grove?”

  “Right,” Mary said. “Got it.” She eyed Noel from top to toe. Her cocked eyebrow made it obvious that while Mary might not be in need of another shopping mall, she definitely believed that Noel could use some apparel help, stat.

  The cameraman pointed at Mary and she turned her back to Noel. Noel tossed her head and patted her wild curls. Better to look less like a crazy woman chained to the front door of an old-folks’ home and more like a rational community activist who was fighting for the poor and disenfranchised. A stretch, especially when she was, in fact, chained to the front door.

  The cameraman pointed at Mary. “In five, four, three”—he went silent and mouthed two and one.

  “This is Mary Crossman at White Pines Retirement Community in Lake Grove. With us today is Noel Klaus, community activist, and former member of the Peace Corps.”

  “Hi, Mary.”

  “Miss Klaus, it appears you’ve chained yourself to the door of White Pines. Could you tell us why you, a woman who obviously isn’t a resident of White Pines, has locked herself to the door the week before Christmas?”

  “Well,” Noel said and brushed a red curl from her face. “When I arrived for the holidays to visit my grandmother, I discovered that some sociopathic billionaire had managed to purchase the mayor, the city council, and the zoning commissioner so that he could destroy a nursing home right before Christmas.” Noel looked from Mary toward the camera and lifted her shackled arms. “What else could I do?”

  “Hmm,” Mary said. “Some strong accusations from a woman chained to a glass door. But a very good question.” Mary glanced past the camera and Noel followed her gaze. “Let’s ask the sociopath, shall we?”

  Noel pulled her eyebrows tight and squinted. Was that a car? A giant black blob pulled to a stop beside the wrecking ball and what was now a globby group of men in orange hats. A very large man walked toward Noel and Mary. Without her glasses, Noel could see little more than the fact that he was tall. A tingle started at the base of Noel’s spine. Heat chur
ned in her belly.

  Desire? For this man? The very man who was dumping a slew of octogenarians onto the mean streets of Lake Grove barely a week before Christmas?

  Well, hadn’t every woman in the world been conditioned to be attracted to power and money? This heat that pulled through her was merely a Pavlovian response. Hopefully he had bad eyebrows and very crooked teeth. Maybe a horrible overbite and a lisp? Her breath shortened and her nipples hardened, an indication that on some level, even without the benefit of twenty-twenty vision, Noel found this man shockingly attractive.

  Noel wasn’t alone in her desires.

  With the billionaire’s approach, Mary’s entire demeanor changed. She continued to talk about White Pines, but her gaze flicked from the camera toward the man who walked with purpose toward them both. The transformation of Mary was nearly instantaneous. She went from semi-serious newswoman to a cat in heat. Mary twirled a strand of blond hair between her fingertips and nearly purred. She was most definitely ready to be stroked by the man who walked toward them.

  A blast of cold air blew past and Mary’s hair, one giant shellacked blonde helmet, lifted high above her ears. Noel’s curls swirled and covered her face. She waved her hands, pulling and grabbing her thick mane of wild hair from her eyes and her mouth. She wanted to get a good look at this captain of industry, this titan of power, this asshole with a gargantuan checkbook.

  Noel knew the type.

  The marauder determined to destroy Nonna’s home stopped on just the other side of the front portico and Mary’s bodacious ta-tas blocked Noel’s sightline. Not that she could see, even if Mary’s boobs weren’t in the way. Noel’s glasses still lay on the bricks at her feet.

  “Hello, Mr. North,” Mary purred.

  Noel’s stomach churned. A gust of air froze in her lungs. Her heart stilled and then quickened.

  North?

  Noel squinted and pulled against her chains. Her heart hit a frantic pace. Cold sweat trickled down her spine.