A Billionaire for Christmas

by Phillips, Carly

  He hands me the gift, which is about the size of a shirt box you’d get from a department store.

  “But you have to sit down,” Maisy says, pulling on my hand and leading me to the couch where my parents are sitting. They move over and make room for Jesse and me. And now I’m like… super excited. What could possibly be in this box that could win the one-up game? I mean, this Bossy surprise is pretty fuckin’ fantastic. This is my yacht on the one-up dream date. This is the moment that Jesse realized I was the boss.

  We sit down between my parents and everyone in the room starts rearranging chairs or sitting on tables, so they can see the present when I open it.

  Then it all happens at once. I pull the blue satin ribbon off the present, lift the lid off the box, and push the tissue paper out of the way.

  Inside is a photo album. And on the front it says, My Life with You, Uninterrupted.

  I open it and right from the first page I know.

  I know.

  He won.

  Because this is a picture of me at my high school prom. But I’m not with that date my mother bossed me into going with.

  I’m with Jesse Boston.

  “What the hell?” I laugh.

  And then the whole story of the photo album comes spilling out of Joey’s mouth, Huck interrupting at regular intervals, Wald adding his two cents. They explain how they needed to fake out Michael Conner to get custody of Maisy and how they hired people all over the world to fake social media pictures of them. And how Jesse wanted so badly to get a second chance with me, he asked if they could make a fantasy life. One where we were never apart.

  My mother gave him baby pictures of me. And even though Jesse only has one single picture of him as a baby and his face is Photoshopped—badly, in most of them—onto every single one of me during my toddler years, I don’t care. In one, we’re in a little plastic pool together as infants. And we celebrate our birthdays together. All the birthdays. Someone used age-progression on Jesse’s baby picture, you can tell. But some of them are real and even Jesse is surprised when he sees these.

  And prom night, of course. And pictures of me standing next to Jesse for every one of his yacht wins. And pictures of Jesse standing next to me, Mila, Hannah, and Natalie as we opened our first cosmetics shop. When we got our awards. There’s even fake magazine interviews with our faces on the covers.

  And even though I know every bit of this is fake, I believe it.

  And Jesse… well, Jesse just grins like a man who just won a thirteen-year do-over.

  “But wait,” Tony says, forcing our father to move aside so he can squeeze in. “You’re missing the best part.” He flips the book to the back and reveals a whole section of pictures that are not Photoshopped.

  Because they had people photographing us for every single moment of our fantasy wedding day.

  Jesse tasting wedding cake.

  Me choosing a dress from the roller-skating fashion show.

  Our screaming faces on the roller coaster.

  Jesse swinging from the ropes on the pirate ship.

  Our combined terror and excitement during the skydive.

  The huge Italian wedding.

  A picture of the ass-end-of-wedding-day getaway car, tin cans trailing behind us.

  They even have a pic of our kidnapping!

  And, of course, the real wedding at the aquarium.

  I am stunned into silence as I look at all the memories we’ve collected.

  Jesse leans in next to me and whispers in my ear. “This is just the beginning, Mrs. Boston. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  I lean back into the seat cushions, Tony on my right and Jesse on my left.

  And I sigh.

  Because even though it’s a fantasy, it’s still real.

  Epilogue

  I win.

  That’s all there is to it.

  But Emma did have another present for me inside the Santa Machine. She waited until all the festivities were over before she told me that. We opened up all the presents. We ate a huge dinner. Hell, we even watched Home Alone, which I had never bothered to watch before, but I totally relate to Kevin. And then, once all the locals went home and the Dumas family was tucked up tight on the Jesse and Joey floors, she took me over to the Santa Machine and handed me a lanyard with my name on it.

  “Go on,” she said. “Scan it.”

  And look, I’m not gonna play this cool. I was freaking excited about the Santa Machine. She did not have to tell me twice. So I scanned.

  And then I got an email notification on my phone.

  A letter from Santa!

  And this is what it said:

  Dear Jesse,

  Santa Machine hears that you’ve been a very good boy this year. So Emma Elf wanted me to present you with the Emma’s Fantasy Christmas Pick Three Buffet.

  But there’s a catch, of course. You don’t get to choose. She chooses for you.

  I hope you’re ready.

  Merry Christmas.

  Love, Santa Machine and Emma Elf

  And do you know what she chose for me?

  Well, let me just say we live in the Bossy Building now. Family floor. That was number one and even though I was worried that Chek would object, since he’s the money-maker now, he was pretty cool about it. Anyway, he lives three floors up on Johnny’s old level, so we never even see him. I feel like the whole Bossy thing is gonna work itself out. Because if Johnny was worried about it, he would not have helped us move all our shit from Emma’s apartment. And he did. So. I kinda love living at the Bossy again now that Emma’s here to share it with me.

  Unconventional as it is, I can’t deny that the Bossy is my true home.

  Of course, you can’t call yourself Emma Elf and not show up for bed that night wearing a sexy elf costume. So that was fun. I made her ears blush with all the filthy hot things my tongue did to her that night.

  But the third… well, let’s just say in seven months Zach will be the only Boston brother without a kid.

  Yeah.

  I know what Johnny said. I get it. We don’t need a do-over.

  But if you get one, man… you gotta grab onto that shit with all you’ve got and never let go.

  And that’s exactly what I plan to do.

  Never let go.

  * * *

  Bossy bride is book 4 in the Bossy Brothers series. It was meant to be a fun Christmas story with a break in the sexy suspense plot between the Boston and Dumas brothers.

  .

  If you’d like to read the whole series you can

  Start with Bossy Jesse HERE

  The final book in the series is Bossy Luke ( and Zach)

  and releases January 5th, 2021.

  Win signed books by signing up for

  my newsletter list HERE!

  Contents

  Santa Baby

  Blair Babylon

  Christmas Shopping for a Billionaire

  Julia Kent

  Bossy Bride

  JA Huss

  Infatuation

  Willow Winters

  A Very Dare Christmas

  Carly Phillips

  Delight Me

  J. Kenner

  Sweet Liar

  Laurelin Paige

  Infatuation

  Willow Winters

  I never stood a chance with this man. Not that I ever wanted to run. He made me want to stay; he made me want him just as much as he wanted me.

  It’s easy to blame this on fate, isn’t it?

  I knew deep down in the pit of my stomach there was something or someone on this island that would change my life forever.

  If only I’d known, I wouldn’t have had to search for him.

  He’s the man who brought me here.

  Maybe the chill that traveled down my spine when I first saw him was a warning.

  A warning that once he laid eyes on me, I was his to keep.

  A warning that this man would stop at nothing to have me.

  A warning I wa
sn’t given until it was too late.

  Prologue

  Lila

  The air is frigid and the land barren as I stare straight ahead at the quaint Alaskan island. More than that though, it’s hauntingly beautiful. I wrap my hands around the cold metal railing of the boat as it bobs in the water, bringing us closer to the shore.

  It’s not as cold as I imagined it would be, although the breeze and the cool spray of ocean water send a trail of goosebumps down my arms.

  It’s hard not to go to the very edge and lean forward, since I want to see everything, but the waves are harsh and unforgiving. And I don’t trust my own grip. Chills run along my spine as I step away and sit back on the bench, farther away from the edge of the boat.

  I’ve never been to a place so gorgeous before, and I’d never planned to come here either. I’m only here to interview a man I’ve never met.

  I watch the fog billowing up the trees. The colors are shades of soft blues and grays. The thin clouds let only the faintest bit of light through as the night drifts in. Picture perfect fails to describe the sight right before my eyes.

  I have to remind myself that I’ll only be here for one week. I need to get this job done and leave this place, but my God, Ketchikan is beautiful.

  It’s an old town, founded on the beliefs of ancient clans.

  Everyone knows everyone on this island.

  I spent the entire flight to Seattle looking up details of this place once the internet proved useless in discovering anything at all about Alec Kulls, the man my employer was so eager to interview.

  All I know is that his family has a rich history, and wealth that keeps the island independent. There’s not much known about the town otherwise, simply because they don’t rely on anything but the land itself.

  As the fog dips lower, revealing more of the pine trees that seem to sit on the far edge of the ocean, I think I see a man. I blink as my lungs still, depriving me of breath. And just like that, he’s gone.

  There’s no way anyone could be out on the edge of the forest, so close to the ocean. I couldn’t have seen what I think I saw.

  My eyes search the thick trees over and over, but there’s nothing to be found but the dense forest.

  It was far off in the distance, but I know I saw him. Out of instinct, I grab the arm of a stranger to urge whoever it is to look with me.

  An old man in a thick winter coat gives me a scowl that makes his wrinkles seem even more pronounced.

  The wind whips across us and I let go of him, feeling embarrassed and alone. I swallow thickly, turning away and muttering a small apology. That’s how I’ve felt since I landed in Seattle and drove straight to the dock. Alone.

  I lick my lips, wrapping my arms around my chest and shaking off this odd feeling spreading through every inch of my body. It’s slow, like the very waves that rock the ship.

  My eyes flicker to the trees on the mountain. He’s vanished.

  I can still see him in my memory; I swear he was looking at me, too. Even from so far away, looking so small in the dense brush. I can practically feel his gaze on me even now.

  My heart flips in my chest in an odd way. It feels like I should run. It thumps hard at the thought, as if confirming my instincts. But just then the small crew moves about me, preparing to dock.

  There’s only one way to the island, and it’s by boat. This boat.

  Once I step off this ship, there’s no going back.

  A tingle travels along my skin and pricks the back of my neck. I stare into the trees as the boat rocks and pushes my body forward and the men hustle to tie the thick ropes to the ship. I can’t explain why I know without a doubt that the man really was there, and that he was waiting for me.

  Chapter One

  Lila

  Every worry is left behind as I step into the pleasant warmth of the bed and breakfast's entrance. All this tension and anxiety must be from lack of sleep. I brush the water from my jacket and wipe off my rubber rain boots on the worn welcome mat. The cabin looks like a quintessential grandmother’s home. It's just like the pictures I saw online.

  The smell of apples and cinnamon hits me the moment I stop in the foyer. I inhale the comforting scents deeply and listen to the crackling of the fire on the far right. The dim lights and warm glow make every touch in the place feel homey.

  I roll my suitcase to the sofa and stop, spotting a crockpot on the entry table and white ceramic mugs next to it.

  Hot cider. I know it in an instant. I’m quick to shrug off my jacket, looking behind me as I hang it over my suitcase, searching for the owner. I almost put the jacket on the old sofa; it’s a dated floral print, but the throw neatly folded over the back of it looks plush and inviting. My jacket is coated with a thin layer of mist from the light rain outside, so I wouldn’t dare put it there.

  I look around the corner and see a small dining room with a wooden table and chairs. In the center of the table is a stack of pale blue cloth napkins and a set of white salt and pepper shakers that look like owls. But not a soul is there either.

  It’s quiet, but welcoming.

  The cabin itself is small, and someone must’ve heard me come in.

  I shake off the cold from the outdoors, feeling the soothing heat from the fire and go to the crockpot before searching out anyone. I need something to warm me up. Just a moment to myself while my nerves settle. I’ve been on edge every minute of this trip. I know part of it is my fear of flying. It’s a stupid fear. I’ve heard every statistic, and I’ve been told over and over that flying is safe. But I’ll be damned if I could breathe for even a second of that six-hour flight.

  The heavy smell of cinnamon greets me as I lay the glass lid down on the table and pick up the ladle, pouring a serving and then another into one of the mugs.

  I’d give anything to shake this overwhelming apprehension that seems to be clinging to me.

  I close my eyes, letting the heat of the cider travel through my chest and the taste of apples and cinnamon tickle my tongue. I smile into the mug, taking another sip before slowly sinking into the sofa and letting the flames of the fire warm me.

  I roll my head to the side wanting to ease the tension, but it only makes me that much more tired. Already I’m exhausted from this trip, and it’s only just begun.

  I wish I could have stayed longer in Seattle. It’s absolutely gorgeous, although opposite in beauty to this island. Where Seattle has intricately designed buildings that tower over you and the old streets lined with planted trees and cobblestones, here the nature is untouched. It’s not arranged to complement the city structures; the mountains and forests are the sights here. The few houses I saw earlier were tucked back into the thicket and seem to blend in.

  That could be due to the hour though. We arrived in the evening as the fog was settling in. Funny how the fog in Seattle seems to dim the city's beauty, but here it only adds to the island's atmosphere.

  I take another sip of the cider, watching the flames lick along the logs. My nails click as they tap rhythmically against the mug. Of the two places I've been today, I prefer the island. It has a sense of ancient tradition, the land feeling mostly unsullied.

  I grew up in Philadelphia, and seeing the beautiful city of Seattle blew me away. But this remote island is like no other place I’ve ever been. It calls to me in a way I can’t explain.

  “Miss Travers?” a small voice calls out from behind me, pulling me from my thoughts. I stand so quickly I nearly spill the cider, feeling embarrassed once again that I’ve made myself at home and didn’t bother seeking anyone out.

  “Yes, here,” I answer, setting the mug down on the coffee table and turning to face an elderly woman. She pushes a pair of thin-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose as she walks around the back of the sofa to greet me. “Mrs. Joslin?”

  “Call me Ada, please,” she answers me.

  At first I smile and tug my sweater down, ready to get to my room and pass out from the long day, but something in her expression catche
s me off guard.

  There’s a smile on her face, but it doesn’t reach her eyes and the way she wrings her fingers nervously makes me question the pleasant tone of her voice. “Are you checking in?” she asks.

  I find it odd. Obviously I am. What else would I be doing here? I hesitate, trying to remember if today is the first day I booked. I turn halfway, still facing her and trying not to be rude as I lean down to dig inside of my purse for the papers. I fucking hope I didn’t screw this up. I don’t need to start this trip off by being kicked out of the one bed and breakfast for miles and miles.

  “I believe it’s today,” I say although it comes out sounding like a question.

  “Yes, of course,” Ada says with confidence and an upbeat lilt that wasn’t there before. I peek up at her, the papers in my hands crinkling as I unfold them. They confirm I’ve booked the entire week; today’s date is the first day of my stay.

  She tucks her hands into the pockets on the sides of her pale pink flannel pajama shirt and nods. “Do you need help with your bags?” she asks me warmly, but there’s a chill to her expression.

  “Is everything alright?” I ask her as I shove the papers back into the pocket on the inside of my purse.

  “Yes, yes. I just wasn’t sure if you’d had a chance to see Mr. Kulls yet?”

  “The interview is tomorrow,” I reply and she nods slowly. I called before booking and spoke to someone here, possibly Ada, although I don’t remember. I wanted to make sure the bed and breakfast was close to the estate. It turns out that it’s the only bed and breakfast, so I didn’t have much of a choice.

  “Am I all set to stay?” I ask her warily.