The Billionaire’s Christmas Bride by L. Steele

7

Amelie

My jaw drops. Again. The arrogance of the man. "I wouldn’t fall for you, if you were the last man on earth.

"I’ll hold you to that."

"What is that supposed to mean?" My heart begins to race.

"You know," he replies, his tone hard.

Sweat beads my palms, and it’s not because the inside of the room is warmer than it was before… When had he lit the fireplace? Probably when I was outside. The light from the flames flickers over his face, throwing his features into relief, deepening the shadows under his cheekbones, hollowing out the spaces under his eyes. His dark hair appears almost blue, and those grey eyes seem almost colorless. Deep and fathomless. What would I find if I looked into those depths? A soul that would take, a male who’d possess, who’d pleasure me in the way no one else ever has. A dominant man who’d push aside all of my doubts and teach me how it is to be claimed. A shiver runs down my spine. Is that what I want? Is that why I haven’t left? Hell, it could be just the two of us in this house—a faint scratching comes from the direction of the kitchen—and the puppy. Not another living soul for miles around; no business demands on either of us. He’d come to heal and I had come to find…something… That spark inside of me that had vanished…and which I had been hoping to recapture. That leap of faith that had pushed me to start my own business… That makes me take a step forward…close the distance between us.

He watches me as I move closer. He lowers his feet to the floor, parts his thighs. I step in between them. He tips his chin up. It feels…different this way. Me looking down on him. The angle intensifies that brooding edge that coils under the surface. I want to find out what makes him tick. Why he blows hot and cold; why he’d decided to spend the holidays alone…when he could have been with any woman… Instead, he’s gotten me. I frown.

He shakes his head.

I scowl.

"You have no idea what you’re letting yourself in for," he mutters, half to himself.

"And you do?"

"I’ve been around the block many more times than you."

"You sure?"

"Have you?" he shoots back.

"Maybe not as much as you," I concede, "but I’ve had my share of boyfriends."

"How many?"

"What’s it to you?" I snap.

"If we’re going to get through our time together, then there are some ground rules you need to follow."

"You?" I scowl.

He tilts his head.

"You meant we need to follow, surely?" I elaborate.

He stares at me with those almost-colorless eyes and another shiver of electricity runs up my spine. Shit, he doesn’t even need to speak to me and I know what he means. Is it because I am that tuned into him? More likely, I know exactly the kind of obnoxious, merciless man he is. My toes curl. Why the hell does that turn me on? It shouldn’t be so appealing. I shouldn’t be this attracted to him… It’s precisely the fact that he wouldn’t care about my needs, that he’d simply take what he wants from me, that I find…refreshing. There would be no pretensions with this man. It would be all give… At least, there would be no surprises, huh? So, I won’t be disappointed. Is that how low my expectations have fallen?

"You shouldn’t overanalyze everything," he remarks.

"You shouldn’t take everyone around you for granted."

"Now you’re doing that NLP shit…" he points out.

I half laugh, "You going to explain exactly what this is about?"

"This?" He looks perplexed.

I point to the space between us, "This."

"Ah." He steeples his fingers together. "It’s simple. I am willing to let you stay here for the holiday season."

I frown.

"But?"

"Did I say a ‘but’?"

"There’s always a ‘but’ with people like you."

"People like me?"

"Overindulgent, spoilt, rich pricks who think they own the world.”

"That’s because I do."

I snort; I can’t help it. "Why am I not surprised that you said that?"

He raises his shoulders, "It’s a fact."

"Whatever," I mutter.

"What was that?"

“I said, ‘What-fucking-ever,’" I say, with more aggression that I am feeling.

"Hmm, you have spirit. That’s good."

"Oh, stop talking in riddles."

"That’s Saint," he chuckles.

"What?"

"Doesn’t matter." He draws in a breath, then straightens his shoulders, "Enough beating around the bush. It’s six days to Christmas. We spend it together. You do everything I ask of you in that time."

"What does that mean?" I stare.

"Exactly what it sounds like. Nothing hidden."

"Does it mean…uh…?"

"What?"

"You know."

"No, I don’t." He smirks.

Oh, spit it out already, why the hell am I being coy?"Sexual favors," I burst out.

"Only if you want it to," he replies.

I blink. "You mean…"

He nods.

"So, if I decided I didn’t want to blow you again..."

"You’d be missing out," he rolls his shoulders, "but your call."

"You sure?"

"Would I lie?"

"Wouldn’t you?"

He grins. "I love this little sparring thing we have going on..."

I purse my lips together, "It’s not ‘little’ anything."

"That’s true," he chuckles.

“Oh, my God!” I throw up my hands. "We get on each other’s nerves. That’s all it is."

"Hmm," he scratches his jaw, "you may be right there. We’ll have to tone it down though, when we’re seen in public."

"Public?"

He nods, "I have to go to visit my family sometime before Christmas and you’ll come along, of course."

I stare at him. Has he gone mad? Why is he jumping around topics like that? "Wh...what do you mean?"

"You’ll come with me, as my date, to visit with my family in the lead up to Christmas." He speaks slower this time, as if I didn’t understand him the first time around. I still don’t.

"No, I won’t."

"Yes, you will."

I blink. He’s so bloody confident, it borders on delusional. I hadn’t mistakenly agreed to this earlier, had I? No, of course not. "Why the hell would I do that?" I scoff.

"Because you wanted a place to spend the holiday season, and this is the only space available."

"No, it isn’t." I shuffle my feet.

"Ever tried finding a place to stay over the holiday season? It’s either sold out, or so expensive, it would be out of your price range.

"How do you know what my price range is?"

"Whatever it is, I can afford it." He smirks.

My jaw drops. Again. Shit, I’ve been doing a lot of that since I got here… But this…this…wanker… He’s got his head up his arse. No doubt, he thinks the sun shines out of it too. I snicker.

He frowns. "Also, you can’t do that while you are here," he drawls.

"What?"

"Think impertinent thoughts."

I blink, then laugh, "Man, you’re something else, you know?"

"As you are going to find out."

I open and shut my mouth, I mean… Why am I standing here arguing with him? I should just march out of here, figure out alternate arrangements across the new year.

"Giving up so soon?" he drawls.

"What do you mean?"

"Guess you know that you can’t last the next six days without falling for my charms."

"What charms?" I look him and down, "You’re a douchebag, is all."

"Exactly what you find so attractive, hmm?"

"You have no idea what I like, or not."

"Oh, trust me," He sits forward in the chair, "I have a very good idea what you…want.… Question is," he lowers his voice to that hushed tone that sinks into my skin. My blood heats; moisture laces my core. How the hell does he draw that reaction from me without trying too hard?

"Do you, Buttercup?"

I swallow, "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"We’ll have to work on that too."

"What?"

"This entire self-denial thing you have going on… It’s cute…" he tilts his head, "but it can get wearying after a while, for both of us."

I stare, trying to keep pace with his thoughts.

"It is?"

He nods, "And we don’t want that."

My head spins; my skin heats further. Why the hell is it so warm inside?

"I… I think I need to go."

I turn to leave, reach the door, when he calls out.

"A million pounds.”

I pause, then turn, "Excuse me?"

He’s standing in front of the chair. "You heard me." He props his palms on his hips. "I know how much in debt you are."

"My business is doing well." My heart begins to race; sweat dampens my palms. Dammit, why the hell does this guy make me nervous? "In fact, that’s why I am here, to recuperate from the stress —"

"No doubt, caused by the college loans you carry. Not to mention, the ones you took out to finance your fledgling little business."

Argh, did he just call my thriving enterprise 'little,' which it is, but what the hell gives him the right to come across all condescending like that?"And you know all this...how?"

"Do you deny it?" he asks.

Do it. Don’t give him the satisfaction of finding out how right he is.I open my mouth, shut it again. Damn it, but I can’t tell a white lie. Not even to save my arse. Which might be more literal than I realize. A giggle bubbles up.

He frowns. "If you did make a success of your business—"

I open my mouth to protest.

He holds up his hand to stop me, "—which is dependent on your business acumen as much as on your ability to be a cook—"

"I’m a pastry chef, you knob."

"Cook." He closes the distance between us, "Even then, you’ll be paying off your loans for the next twenty years."

My pulse rate ratchets up. Shit, those numbers… Not that I wasn’t aware of them. I prefer not to think about it, that’s all. I mean, sure, I could look on the negative and the fact that I’ll be paying off the loans forever… But I’ve been confident I could turn the corner at some point. What’s the other option? Not take risks, work a nine-to-five… Nothing wrong with that. It’s not for me, that’s all.

"So?" I sniff.

"So, you’ll work back-breaking, long hours, behind a stove—"

"An oven, you prick."

"If you keep alluding to that part of me, I’ll have to assume you’ve been thinking of it."

"No, I haven’t."

He grins. Bastard. My cheeks heat. So, fine, I’ve been thinking about that particular attribute of his nonstop since I sucked on him, like my own private lollypop. Gah! So? Hey, it was a bloody good blowjob too, thank you very much.

"As I was saying," he drums his fingers on his chest, "you’ll waste away your best years, working non-stop, trying to pay off the loans. Before you know it, you’ll be forty and single, not having had the time to find a man—"

"I don’t need one," I snarl.

He laughs, "Meanwhile, the debt is going to stop you from expanding your business further… And that, you do want, hmm?"

I scowl. He’s got me there. I have plans. I want to grow my business to set up a store front… Then a chain, not only in England, but abroad. And while I’m sure I won’t let debt stop me, not with the help of expert advice on how to structure my business holdings… Still, nothing like cash in hand to inspire confidence, especially from future creditors.

"One million, huh?"

His eyes gleam.

I frown. Damn it, have I walked into a trap? I shouldn’t have shown interest in his offer, but I’m human, okay? I mean… No, I won’t sell my principles for money… But this is an awful lot of money. Not something to sneer at, get me? Besides, what principles is he really trying to pay me to betray? It’s not like he’s offering to pay me for sex. I chew on my lower lip; his gaze drops there. The tendons of his throat move as he swallows. Huh? He’s affected by me as well? I mean, I know he wants me… That entire blowjob thing between us… It had confirmed he wants to get in my pants… But this… His hooded eyelids, the way he watches me with single-minded focus… My scalp tingles. A bead of sweat trickles down my spine.

I clear my throat.

He jerks his chin up, "Per day."

"What the—?" I gape. "You didn’t… Why would you—?" I rake my fingers through my hair. "This entire thing is bizarre."

"It’s a little out of your comfort zone, I understand." He shoves his hand in the pocket of his jeans, "But opportunities like this don’t come often."

"You’re telling me," I laugh. The sound comes out weak. Shit, I sound uncertain. And I am not. Not about my answer… Just his intention. "Why?" I frown. "Why are you so keen on ensuring that I stay?"

"You said it." He tilts his head, "I am not much use with this—" He holds up his finger in the splint. “Until you pointed it out, I hadn’t realized it." He nods.

Nice one. Blame it on me that he’d come up with this insane idea, huh.?

"You could get a housekeeper…or something."

"Not over the holiday season. Besides, why would I look for a stranger when I want you?"

"Umm, because you don’t know me well either?"

His gaze drops to my mouth.

"That…that was a one off." I redden. "It doesn’t mean you know me as a person."

He raises his shoulders, "You’re a friend of Summer and Victoria’s, women who are trusted by the Seven."

"Right," I draw in a breath.

"So?" He tilts his head.

"So?" I shuffle my weight from foot to foot. What do I say? I twist my fingers together. "One million for every day makes it…"

"Six million pounds." He nods.

"S... six?" I squeak.

"It’ll set you up for any kind of expansion you want to finance for your business."

I narrow my gaze. How could he have intuited my plans? "How do you know that?"

"You’re ambitious, I get it." He stares back, "Not that much of a stretch, to know that you’d be planning to grow your enterprise.

"Right." I scowl at him. "I guess that makes sense. I mean, you weren’t stalking me or anything, before I came here to find out this information, were you? Although, it does beg the question, how did you know about my debt?"

He chuckles, "Don’t flatter yourself, babe. We check into anyone who enters our orbit. Can’t be too careful, you know?"

"Hmm." I fold my arms around my waist. "It’s what Sinclair and then Saint did before they proposed to my friends," I say, referring to the now-husbands of Summer and Victoria, respectively.

His lips quirk, "You think that’s what this is about? My sneaky way of trying to form some kind of fake marriage proposal with you?"

Hmm, when he puts it like that, it sounds pretty far-fetched, but still, "You did ask me to accompany you to see your family."

"Just a way to get them off my back," he grumbles. "You’re going to be hanging about here. I may as well as put your time to good use."

"Jeez, you have a foolproof way of charming women," I mutter.

"Right?" His smile broadens and his features light up. He is taking the piss, isn’t he? I mean, no one could mistake his attitude to be anything but self-satisfying, egoistical, narcissistic—gah—I’m running out adjectives.

"Well then, you’d best get your luggage in…"

"Hold on, hold on." I blow out a breath, "Nothing’s settled."

"Of course, it is."

Gah!I almost cross my eyes at the sheer lunacy of this situation. "Six days with an egomaniac, who is going to make every moment a living hell. Would it be worth the money? Six million freakin’ quid! Ohmigod! That’s what’s at stake here. How many zeros are there in that number anyway? I pout, "You sure…uh…this isn’t another way to—"

"Get in your knickers?" He raises an eyebrow, scans my features. "Face it, Buttercup. If I wanted," his voice lowers to that seductive hush, "I could take you now, and you wouldn’t say 'no.’" His lips curl in that hotter-than-bubbling-custard-sauce smirk. OMG, how could I compare him to one of the food dishes that I am famous for?

He closes the remaining distance between us and that scent of his—pine and cloves and an edgy depth that coils around me—pins me in place. I can’t move, can’t think, can only watch as he looks down on me from his superior height.

"N...no," I stutter.

He pauses inches in front of me, "Did I ask a question?" His lips twitch. What a stupid idea this was. Damn…but six million. Six freakin’ million pounds. Hell, I’d do anything for that. Even put up with his alphaholeness for a limited period of time. I mean, this is only for a short period of time, right? It has an end, after all, this time with him.

"Fine," I mutter and my stomach flip-flops. Shit, what am I getting myself into?

"The arrangement is dependent on one thing."

Knew it.I scowl, "Now what?"

"You can't sleep with me during our time together."

I blink. "So, you’ll pay me a million pounds a day, to be your glorified housekeeper, and sex is not part of the bargain?" I pause. "And if I sleep with you?"

"Then the deal is off."

Huh?I peruse his features. Is he for real? Is this...weird-ass bargain as good as it sounds?

"So..." I try to give voice to my thoughts, "Everything but sex?"

"Not gonna repeat myself." His lips quirk.

What's the catch, huh? What is it?

I stare at him; a low smoldering burn begins to curl in my belly, "So...” I gulp. “Wh...what’s not off limits, then?" Why is my voice shaking?

"You sure you want to know?"

No.

No.

"Yes." I clear my throat, "I need to know before I sign on the dotted line, right?"

"Hmm." His eyes gleam. He bends his knees, thrusts his face into mine, "What’s not off limits includes, but is not limited to, squeezing, fondling, strumming, stuffing, kneading, massaging, pinching, spanking, hurting you, tying you up, making you scream, cry, beg, plead, howl—"

"Stop," I gasp.

He nods. "That’s another thing you need to learn—to not tell me to stop when you don’t mean it."

"Of course, I do."

His lips curl. He swoops out his hand to cup my pussy through the blouse that covers me to mid-thigh.

I squeak, grab at his wrist. He digs the heel of his palm into my core, and the strength of his touch, presses up through the soft fabric of my blouse into my clit. Sparks of heat, of lust, and streaks of emptiness slam into my gut. I shudder, "Oh, my God."

He rotates his palm in circles. Pinpricks of need swirl up my spine, my thighs spasm, my toes curl, my scalp tingles, and damn him, but he’s barely touched me. How could my body betray me like this? Is this what I want?

He releases me, retracts his palm, and I jerk my pelvis forward. What the hell?

He tilts his head, brings his palm to his nose and sniffs, "That’s what I thought. You are so aroused, if I had continued my ministrations, you’d have come."

"Not," I sniff.

"Fine then. " He smirks, straightens, turns to leave.

"Stop," I burst out.

He keeps going. Asshole.

"Don’t," I call out, then bite on the inside of my cheek. "Please," I mumble.

"What was that?" he asks.

"Please," I half snarl, "don’t go."

He pauses, then shoots me a glance over his shoulders "Admit it first."

"What?"

"That you want me."

I swallow.

He glares at me.

All of my nerve endings pop; a delicious edge of anticipation crackles up my legs, my back. I nod.

"Say it." He lowers his chin, "Tell me you wanted me to caress your pussy, shove my fingers into your cunt, make you wet, drag the moisture around your slit, and bring you to the edge."

My breathing grows shallow and my chest heaves.

"Well?"

"Yes," I sputter. "Yes." Jesus, now I sound like I am about to orgasm and he isn’t even touching me. And everything he’d said… It was filthy, and erotic, and no holds barred…and I want it. Gah! Maybe that last breakup had gone to my head? On the flip side, I haven’t thought about my ex since I got here, huh? Perhaps that’s what I need—a firm hand to keep me under control, a jerk-ass to occupy my thoughts and keep them off of my past, and his dick… Admit it. Since seeing that gorgeous cock… All you can think of is how it would feel inside of you—pulling, stretching, filling, bumping up against your innermost walls, driving you higher, higher. My knees seem to buckle. I push my heels into the floor to steady myself.

"You’re right," I manage to force out the words. "What you said turned me on."

"That’s a start." He draws himself up to his full height, walks back toward me. "Believe me, it’s good for you to speak what’s on your mind."

"Oh?"

"You have no idea what it does to keep your innermost desires bottled up inside."

"Is that your prognosis?" I mumble.

"That’s my advice, as your doctor." His eyes gleam. "Don’t hide your needs. Bring them out. Live them, revel in them. It’s good for your mind, and of course, your heart." He leans forward places his palm over the skin above my left breast, "Let go of your inhibitions. Put yourself in my hands for this interval of time. I promise, I’ll take care of you, Princess Buttercup."

I stare at him. He meets my gaze, unblinking. His features are composed, even sincere. And my soufflé rises every time I make it. Not.

I shuffle my feet. "Well…" I blink rapidly. It seems too good to be true. Is there a catch? There has to be a catch. An egomaniac like this wouldn’t suggest this unless there was something in it to trip me up. But the money, OMG, what I couldn’t do with it.

"You’ll stick to your part of the bargain?" I scowl.

His eyes gleam. He holds out his hand, "You have my word."

I glance down at his palm, then back at his face, "Hmm."

"Go on," he cajoles, "I promise, I'll keep my end of the agreement."

"Will you?"

"Try me." His lips curl. Bastard. He's challenging me. Bet he thinks I'll turn tail and run out screaming about now. Which I should, but I won't. Because... Yeah I'm stubborn that way. I haven't come this far by backing down at the first sign of trouble, and no dominant, macho, sexy as fuck, obnoxious prat is going to deprive me of my much-needed holiday, not to mention the opportunity to get a head start on my career...my life. My bloody future beckons. All I have to do is embrace it.

"Fine." I place my hand in his.

His wide palm engulfs mine, warmth from his skin sizzles up my arm. Electricity zings up my spine. Whoa. The hell was that? I try to pull back my hand, he holds on.

"You good, Princess?"

No.

No.

"Of course," I stutter. "Why would you think otherwise?"

He surveys my features, "You seem pale."

My guts twist. Bloody hell, this is happening. This is really, really happening. My stomach flips and my heart thumps in my chest. Damn… What the hell am I doing?

"You not going to faint or anything, are you?" he asks.

I stiffen; my head instantly clears. "Of course not," I huff.

He nods, "Also…you’re welcome."

I blink. No, no, don’t react. Don’t say anything to this obnoxious bonehead. He pauses a few inches from me. Sweat breaks out on my forehand. "For what?" I force out the words, knowing I shouldn’t, but wanting to know what twisted notion his very clever mind has thought up.

"For accepting my invitation to the most exclusive private New Year’s Eve party in London."

I open my mouth to refuse, but he shakes his head, "Think before you say anything. Trust me, you want to be there. The kind of contacts you’ll make there will give you a lead over your nearest competitor."

I firm my lips together, mind racing.

"The list of guests is a who’s who of the well-connected from around the world. It’s perfect to build contacts, invaluable for a fledgling business like yours."

I peer into his face. Is he making fun of me? Trying to undermine my efforts as a business person? But his features take on a sincere expression. Hmph. Not that I am buying it, but he has a point. It won’t hurt to be there. Invitations to those kinds of events…are like gold dust. Of course, I could work hard…but being at the right place, at the right time… Well, that’s when things get interesting.

"I…guess…that makes sense," I venture.

He nods. "If we last until then." He smirks.

"Is that a challenge?"

"No, it’s a fact. Do you think you can get through our time together without walking out in a huff?