Christmas with the Billionaire ; A Tiara for Christmas

by Niobia Bryant

  “Same.”

  She chuckled. “Why does it sound like you had to pull that from your guts with a crowbar?” she asked.

  He found her office mediocre and the view nearly nonexistent. Not at all what he expected from one of the heirs to the Ansah fortune. “This is your office?” he asked, knowing he scowled.

  “Yes,” Samira said, coming to claim her seat. “Now, how may I help you?”

  Lance sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk. He bent his leg and set his ankle on his knee. “Tell me why you lied to me,” he demanded, rubbing his clean-shaven chin with his hand as he bit down on his bottom lip.

  He saw her eyes dip down to take in the move before she cleared her throat and looked away.

  Wait? What?

  That nervousness he felt in her presence crept up on him.

  “As you know, I was interested in the purchase of the land you have in Passion Grove—”

  “For?” he asked, as he wished the scent of her perfume didn’t reach him, seeming to nudge him. Tempt and taunt him.

  Samira picked up a pair of glasses and began working them in her hand. “To use as a commercial property,” she said.

  “I was right not to sell it to you, because I like Passion Grove as is,” Lance said.

  It was well-known the city council maintained a strict ban on commercial enterprises to keep the small-town nature of the community. It was one of the appeals of the town for him.

  She nodded and turned her supple mouth downward as she shrugged one shoulder. “No worries,” she said. “I found a new location.”

  “Good for you,” he said.

  “Great for me, actually,” she stressed. “I was well aware of the steps it would take to get the city council to approve the land for commercial use. Although I was willing to tackle that and win, actually, now it’s one less worry on my plate.”

  I missed her.

  He’d convinced himself that he wanted to intrude on her life the way she invaded his, but in truth, her presence around the house for the few weekends she’d been there had left more of an imprint on his solitary existence than he realized.

  “I said it before. I’ll say it again. I came for the land, but I stayed for the book.”

  Lance looked to her. “You lied,” he said, his tone accusatory.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “To learn more about you. To see why you wouldn’t sell land you are not using. To try and figure you out. Yes, I lied.”

  “I didn’t appreciate it.”

  “But you’re none the worse. The work was done—including sending me on a fool’s errand to the bakery and having me play yardman,” she said, splaying her hands.

  “And if I just implanted myself in your life, would you be as nonchalant?”

  “Like today?” she asked.

  “Exactly.”

  She set the glasses down and rose to come around the desk, leaning against it with her legs crossed at the ankle.

  The scent of her perfume intensified.

  “Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Millner, but I’m actually very pleased to see you...especially after the way things ended.”

  Her eyes locked with his, and although Lance hid it well, pure awareness shimmied over his body. Samira Ansah excited him, and as much as he felt his desire for her was a betrayal, he couldn’t seem to help it. Although he had been off the market for years, he was still a man well aware of when a woman desired him as well.

  “Trust me. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all.”

  It was his turn to clear his throat as he shifted his frame in the seat.

  Brrrnnnggg.

  “Excuse me,” Samira said, turning slightly on the desk to pick up the phone. “Yes?”

  He tipped his hat back just enough to stroke the scar he hated so much as he fought not to watch the curvy lines of her body so close to him. If he opened his legs a bit wider, his knee would stroke her leg.

  He hungered for the seemingly simple touch. He was so tempted to go for it.

  “The board wants to see me?” she said sounding excited as she rose to her feet. So unlike her normal composure. “Now? I’m on my way up.”

  Pulling his hat back down, he rose to his feet just as she turned to face him. They were inches apart.

  She gasped a bit in surprise.

  He didn’t move one bit as his eyes searched her face. Her mouth.

  She’s beautiful. Her skin dark as night and still, somehow, radiant like gold.

  “I have to go,” she said, whispering as if she had lost her breath as well.

  With reluctance, he stepped back. “So... I’ll stay out of your life and you stay out of mine,” he said, futilely trying to claim anger and failing.

  “Agreed,” Samira said, her eyes unable to hide her confusion before she turned and walked to the office door to pull it open wide. “Goodbye, Mr. Millner.”

  “Am I being dismissed?” he asked as he reached her.

  “I think you dismissed yourself, and I’m acquiescing,” she said, the epitome of refinement even at her young age.

  “Goodbye,” Lance said, stepping past her to leave the office.

  He took a dozen or so steps before he stopped and turned. He was surprised to find her still standing in the hall just outside her door watching him. No words came as his body reacted to her, confusing him further. She gave him one last wave and entered her office, closing the door behind her.

  He grunted as he turned and strode down the hallway to the elevator, wondering if he’d truly seen the last of her.

  * * *

  The heart-shaped pond that was the centerpiece of Passion Grove was pretty during summer, beautiful in the spring, warm and inviting in the fall, and simply majestic during the winter. Unblemished snow coated the branches and surrounded the trunks of towering trees. The lake was frozen over, and the rays of the winter sun glistened upon the ice. Many of the townspeople were enjoying their weekend, having snowball fights or ice skating, including the Ansah and Dalmount crew.

  Through the clear vinyl window of their portable heated tent, Samira smiled at each of her brothers holding her niece Aliyah’s hand as they gently pulled her across the ice on her little skates. “Ma petite-fille n’a pas peur de rien,” LuLu said, pulling her fur hat down over her ears.

  “No, she is not,” Samira agreed with her mother—Aliyah wasn’t afraid of anything.

  “She reminds me of you, ma poupée de chocolat,” LuLu added, leaning over to gently knock her daughter’s shoulder with her own. “You are fearless, Madam President.”

  Samira was still awaiting word from the board on the position. They’d called her into their meeting to make her presentation and to be questioned in lieu of an interview. She’d yet to hear anything about their decision. “I hope,” she said. “No interference, Maman.”

  “For what? None is needed. You are worthy,” LuLu said, her eyes determined as they locked with those of her daughter.

  Samira appreciated her support and confidence in her. It was equal to that she had for her sons.

  “That really could be a beautiful home.”

  Samira looked to Alessandra where they sat at a folding table before following her line of vision to the rear of Lance’s lakeside home. It looked empty. She smiled a little thinking of the weekend hours she’d spent in his home with him, feeling that same lifelessness. It was a home of darkness and despair.

  Why is that?

  That question plagued her at odd moments of the day. She was so curious as to why Lance had lost his smile. She wanted him to tell her his secrets.

  “It fits him, though,” Alessandra said.

  “He is definitely not a people person,” Marisa added before taking a sip of her warm drink as well.

  “Doesn’t look like a long walk,” LuLu whispered to her, locking her gaze on
the sprawling house as well. “If nothing else, get answers to your questions. At the same time, you might be able to help him by offering to listen to his troubles.”

  Samira had finally filled her mother in on the details of her dealings with Lance Millner. All of them. Including her unending curiosity about his life and why he chose to live it in isolation.

  The nightly dreams of kisses and long strokes she’d kept to herself.

  It had been nearly a week since he surprised her at the ADG offices. Even with the days that had passed, she clearly recalled the thrill she felt when the receptionist announced he was there to see her. And how desire reigned when she’d walked up to the reception area and spotted him sitting there groomed and still grouchy.

  But handsome as hell.

  “Samira, remember the time you were at the bakery and you two collided?” Marisa asked. “You were looking down at her phone and walking in while he was walking out. And then bam!”

  Samira’s nodded. “I forgot about that,” she said, remembering that brief but harried moment she and Lance had shared over a year ago...

  “I’m sorry,” she’d said.

  “You should watch where the hell you’re going,” he’d said before brushing past her and leaving the bakery with long strides.

  Samira walked up to Marisa, standing behind the counter where she sold her handmade chocolate treats. “What a grouch,” she said, scowling.

  Marisa laughed as she turned the sign on her counter from Open to Closed. “Aww, the right woman could put a smile on his face,” she said.

  “Who would even bother trying?” Samira had asked.

  Blinking away the memory, Samira looked back at his house, feeling a literal pang of hurt for him. Following an impulse, she rose to reach for the short black hooded fur she wore with fitted denims and thigh-high riding boots. “I’ll be back,” she said, pulling her fur-lined calf-leather gloves and knitted hat from the pocket.

  “Where are you going?” LuLu said.

  “To check on Lance the Grouch,” she said before turning and exiting the tent.

  The change in temperature was intense. She pulled her hood over her head and pressed her gloved hands into the deep pockets of the jacket as she trekked the cleared path surrounding the lake and up the walkway to Lance’s back door. With a breath that instantly chilled in the air, she knocked and rang the doorbell.

  The ring around the doorbell turned electric blue.

  “What part of goodbye forever is this?” he said via the intercom on the doorbell video system.

  “Let me in, please,” she said.

  The light faded, and moments later the knob turned before the door opened and he filled the entry.

  She looked him up and down, shaking her head at his normal garb and one of his bucket hats in place on his head. “Cinderfella is back to the norm, I see,” she said, stepping past his tall body into the mudroom.

  Samira turned at his silence to find him peering out toward the lake. “It’s for more than fishing,” she said, the sounds of laughter and squeals of glee reaching them.

  He made a noise before stepping back and closing the door. “What do you want?” he asked.

  “Civility would be great, but since I know that is beyond you, I wanted to first apologize again for my duplicitous behavior regarding that land,” she said, feeling his presence overwhelm her in the contained space.

  “You don’t have to impress me with big words because I write books,” Lance said, folding his arms over his hard chest.

  Samira took a sharp intake of breath. “Stop being an asshole...is that basic enough for you?” she snapped before turning from him and massaging the space between her eyes with her fingers.

  “A little too basic,” he muttered.

  Samira whirled and pointed a finger at him. “What is wrong with you?” she wailed. “Why are you on a path of destruction to make sure no one gets close to you? Why do you live in this dark, desolate-ass place? Why are you so grouchy and ill-tempered? Why are you hiding away from life? And why are you ashamed of that scar?”

  “None of your damn business,” he said, his tone insolent as he walked past her to leave the mudroom and enter the kitchen.

  Samira gritted her teeth and followed behind him reaching for his arm to grip. “I’m making it my business,” she insisted when he turned to look at her hand and then at her.

  “Why?” he roared, leaning over until his face was close to hers.

  They stared each other down. Both with their chests heaving and their short breaths blending in the brief space between them.

  Samira gave him a soft smile and felt the warmth fill her eyes. “Because I care,” she said with honesty. “I truly give a damn and wonder about every question I asked you. I see you alone in this world, and it bothers me. It breaks my heart a little. I see past the wall you put up. It’s there in the way you write. I refuse to believe someone so angry could write so lyrically—you have moved me to tears in your books. I want you to see what I see, Lance Millner, because you are one beautiful man, scar and all.”

  He released an annoyed breath and waved his hand dismissively as he turned from her. “You’re full of it,” he muttered, snatching open the fridge to remove a bottle of beer.

  “No, you are,” she said, walking over to take it from him, twist off the lid and take a deep swig.

  “I am?” Lance snapped, splaying his hands in disbelief at her taking his beer before he turned to pull another from the fridge.

  Samira nodded. “You’re willing to share stories as long as they are made-up and not your truth,” she said, dragging her finger along the length of the counter, surprised to find it clean.

  “You don’t know a damn thing about my life,” he said with coldness.

  “Exactly,” she agreed, moving to the bay windows of the breakfast nook and looking up at dark clouds rolling in from the distance.

  “Exactly?” he repeated.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “The fact that I know nothing about your life is my point exactly,” she explained.

  “Get out.”

  “No,” she said, turning to face him.

  He frowned, she could tell from the downturn of his lips. “So you’re intruding on my life...again?”

  “Someone needs to, so it might as well be me,” she said, walking back across the room to stand before him.

  “Get. Out.”

  She shook her head. “No,” Samira said, turning just long enough to set her unfinished beer on the large island before she removed her fur and set it there as well before facing him again.

  He reached up in a flash and snatched his hat off. The wound was lighter than his medium brown complexion and nearly four inches long, crossing his forehead and the top of his eyebrow. It was jagged and uneven. Angry looking. The sign of trauma.

  “Welcome to the freak show,” he said, his words biting.

  “Hardly,” she drawled, being sure to show nothing but nonchalance.

  His face became incredulous.

  Samira reached up to stroke his face.

  He flinched and jerked his head back before she could land her touch as he replaced his hat.

  She shook her head. “I promise it’s not as bad as you have convinced yourself it is,” she said, her voice soft as her eyes searched his. “And not at all worthy of you closing yourself off from the world, Lance.”

  She reached for him once more.

  This time he quickly gripped her wrist, blocking the move.

  Their eyes locked again.

  The house darkened a bit as the clouds passed over above. A second later thunder snapped loudly, flashing light. Emotions were high and his annoyance with her was clear—but so was the flash of desire she saw in his eyes as they fell on her mouth. Some energy more vibrant than the storm brewing outside crackled between them.r />
  Samira felt breathless as a desire to taste his mouth filled her until she was heady.

  To hell with it.

  She took a step forward that brought their bodies together and raised up on her toes in her boots to grab the front of his sweatshirt and kiss him with all the passion she felt for the brooding man with a body as rock hard as his will to be alone. She gasped in his mouth when he opened it to allow her tongue to lightly touch his own as his hands gripped her hips.

  He tasted of goodness. Heat. Excitement.

  “Lance,” she exhaled, easing her hands up around his neck to softly stroke his nape.

  She felt him shiver. She did the same. She was so lost. And it was so good.

  “No!” Lance said, sounding tortured and reproachful of them both as he broke the kiss and stepped back from her.

  Samira’s lids were half closed and her heart still pounding as she swayed a little from being freed from their intense connection.

  “I don’t want you here,” he said, motioning his hand toward the door with a quick jerking gesture. “I don’t want any of this. I don’t want you.”

  Her embarrassment stuck in her throat as she turned from him and grabbed her fur, knocking the beer bottle over by mistake. The sound of the glass crashing against the floor echoed as she raced from the kitchen and into the mudroom to fling the rear door open. The rain falling was steady, the skies were darkened and the cold was chilling. She paused just long enough to jerk on her fur as she quickly walked down the path.

  Her foot skidded across an ice patch and she hollered out as her body went up in the air and then down onto the pavement with a loud thud. She grimaced and released a heavy breath as she moved to a sitting position.

  She looked ahead and saw the family’s tent and their vehicles were gone. She looked up at the turbulent skies and didn’t blame them for quickly seeking shelter.

  Frowning a bit, she leaned up to reach in her back pocket for her phone. There was a message from her mother telling her to call to have one of the family’s on-staff drivers pick her up from Lance’s and to stay out of the inclement weather. “Shit,” she swore, shivering from the rain drenching her body and the cold nearly turning it to ice upon her.