My Christmas Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 7) Read online

  My Christmas Billionaire

  The Billionaire Kings Book 7

  By

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  Copyright 2019 Serenity Woods

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  The Kings Family Tree

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Kings Family Tree

  Chapter One

  Jules

  As always, Auckland airport is busy, even at ten o’clock at night. I stand by the window of the private lounge, watching the planes taking off and landing. Lights twinkle across the landscape, flashing on the runways and the planes themselves, on barriers, vehicles, and lookout towers. It’s as if the airport itself is bedecked for Christmas, which is only three days away.

  “Bah, humbug,” I mutter, and I turn and sit on the window ledge.

  Clio, who approaches me at that moment with a takeaway coffee for me, hands it to me and gives me a reproachful look. “I heard that. I do hope you’re not going to play Scrooge throughout this vacation.”

  “You know I hate Christmas.” I sip the coffee, which is scalding hot and burns my lip. “Ouch. Fuck.”

  “You need to blow on it.” Clio perches on the ledge beside me. “I don’t get why anyone hates Christmas. Don’t you find it exciting? Stockings and presents, Santa and Rudolph? It’s the one chance we get to be a kid again every year.”

  “It’s a man-made construction,” I tell her. “Nobody’s interested in the meaning of it. Kids aren’t allowed to take part in nativity plays or sing carols anymore. It’s a winter festival nowadays, that’s all, an excuse to eat and drink too much and overspend on presents that nobody will use the next day.”

  “Wow,” Clio replies. “I know you’ve been feeling grouchy lately, but this is a new low, even for you.” I study my cup, and she bumps her shoulder against mine. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “I know it’s been a tough time for you lately. I feel a bit guilty about that. I know I’ve been tied up with Ryan, and it’s not fair on you.”

  “I don’t want to know all the details about your love life with my brother,” I grumble.

  She chuckles, then bumps shoulders again. “I know it must feel as if I’ve abandoned you, and I am sorry about that.”

  Last month, after Leon and Nix’s wedding, where the whole family flew down to Dunedin, Clio and Ryan finally hooked up, and when they returned to the Ark, she moved out of the apartment she shared with me and into his bach on the beach.

  I’m not jealous. I’m really not. Okay, maybe a little bit. I’m happy for her and for him—they’ve both had their ups and downs, and they seem blissfully content together, especially now they’re making plans for the New Year. They’re going to be spending three days a week in Wellington—Ryan at the Ministry for Children, working with the adoption agency, and Clio at Wellington Zoo. They’re both excited and annoyingly happy.

  I say annoyingly only because it’s tough sometimes to be surrounded by couples, and not just couples who’ve been together for a hundred years and can’t stand the sight of each other, but new couples who try to find every excuse they can to get lip-locked, and who are smug about the fact that they’re getting regular sex, even if they don’t mean to be.

  I’m the last single female at the Ark. The last spinster. Not quite the last single person, because there’s one other who’s also managed to avoid the clutches of the opposite sex. But I’m not going to think about him. My mood’s sour enough at the moment.

  “It’s fine,” I tell Clio. “I haven’t missed you at all. I get the bathroom all to myself. I don’t have to watch The Bachelorette anymore. And I can eat garlic prawns all evening if I like without anyone complaining.”

  I’m lying, of course; I miss her terribly. I moved in with her after I broke up with Connor, and we’ve become very close over that time. But nothing lasts forever. One of us was always going to move on eventually, and it just happened she was first.

  Clio smiles, because she’s supposed to, and swigs her coffee. She glances across at Ryan, sitting in the seat next to Hal, and I watch as Ryan meets her gaze and winks at her, and she winks back. Even now, sitting apart, they’re communicating silently, connected despite the stretch of carpet separating them. I bet they’re both thinking about having sex. About what they’re going to do when we get to our destination and they go into their hotel room, because it will have been thirty-four hours since they were last able to touch each other intimately. It’s disgusting.

  I’m so envious, I could vomit.

  “Well, I can’t wait to meet Santa,” Clio says. “I’m going to sit on his knee and ask for a new hairdryer.”

  On Christmas Eve, Noah is finally getting married to Abby. We’re on our way to Rovaniemi in Finland, to a resort called Santa’s Secret Village. Noah was childhood friends with the owner, Eva, and when she discovered he was getting married and was thinking about a Christmas wedding, she immediately suggested they come to the resort. And Noah, being Noah, couldn’t bear to go and leave all his family behind, so he invited everyone.

  All the Kings are rich, courtesy of their fathers, aptly named the Three Wise Men. Day to day, we don’t get much of a chance to make the most of our money. We all have normal jobs, and although we don’t exactly live on the bread line, most of us have normal apartments and live normal lives. We might treat ourselves to expensive clothes, cars, and jewelry, or occasionally go on vacation, but it’s not as if we’re always attending parties or staying in exclusive hotels.

  But at times like this, we really get to splash out. Today, we’re all traveling business class, and at the resort, which Eva and her husband, Rudi, have recently overhauled, we’ve hired their most expensive accommodation, which they call the Escape, specifically made for large families. It consists of a complex containing quality suites situated around a central building that has a communal living and dining area, so if we don’t want to visit the numerous restaurants on the site, we can have our own chef prepare our meals for us.

  The complex sounds amazing, but I have to admit I’m somewhat skeptical of the whole nature of it being ‘Santa’s Secret Village’. Obviously, the resort is geared toward children, and I’m expecting it to be sickly sweet, pushing the Christmas theme down our throats until we’ll be desperate to return to normality.

  “Why don’t you like Christmas?” Clio asks me. “Ryan and Hal don’t seem to mind the festive season.”

  I shrug. “I think it’s because it’s never met my expectations. We’re constantly told it’s the most wonderful time of the year. The time when everyone’s
automatically happy, when families come together. But everything that’s gone wrong in my life has always seemed to happen at Christmas. My grandfather died on Boxing Day.” My mom’s dad passed away eight years ago now, but I’ll never forget the shock his heart attack caused out of the blue, so close to Christmas. “When I was nine, our dog died on the twenty-seventh of December.”

  “I remember that,” Clio says.

  “Kate at college committed suicide on Christmas Day,” I remind Clio.

  “Christ, I forgot that.”

  That had been awful. I hadn’t been that close to Kate, but she’d been in my circle of friends, and I’d seen her most days. Her boyfriend had dumped her the week before Christmas. Unknown to the rest of us, she’d been suffering from severe depression, and it had pushed her over the edge. Her roommate had discovered her when she’d returned to the room after seeing her family for Christmas dinner.

  “And then, of course, I broke up with Connor on Christmas Eve,” I remind Clio.

  She meets my gaze. “I couldn’t forget that.”

  I look down and poke at a mark on the carpet with my toe. That evening was indelibly printed on my mind, too. That was the evening my boyfriend had hit me, and I’d walked out and gone to Clio’s apartment. I’d cried for hours. Poor Clio—I must have totally ruined her Christmas too, but she’d been amazing, looking after me, trying to get me to eat and drink, and then, when Connor refused to leave me alone, she contacted my father, who ended up phoning the police and threatening Connor that he’d get a restraining order if he didn’t fuck off.

  “Yeah,” she says. “Okay, so I kinda get it now.”

  “It’s just that we’re constantly told we’re supposed to be happy,” I reply. “I’m lucky in that even though I’m single, I have a wonderful family around me. But it can be an awful time of year if you’ve recently lost a loved one, if you don’t have close family nearby, or if you’re single. You don’t see that on the TV though, or in adverts.”

  “That’s true.”

  She looks a bit downcast, and suddenly I feel guilty. “I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “You’re right; I’m such a grouch. Don’t mind me. I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

  “You’ve been like this since the wedding,” Clio says. “Since that thing with Stefan. I don’t like to see you like this. He’s a nice guy, sure, but he’s not worth it, Jules. There’s someone out there who’s perfect for you, and he’s just waiting for you to turn up. Who knows, you might meet him this Christmas! You’ll find happiness, I know you will.”

  I smile at her. “I know. You’re such a sweetie. Look, go and be with your man. I’m okay. I downloaded a great book that I really want to finish.”

  “All right.” She leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  She gets up and goes over to Ryan, curling up against him as he puts his arm around her shoulders.

  I get out my phone and bring up my Kindle app, but for a moment I let my gaze stray across the row of seats. We’re waiting at the gate for the call to board the plane. Everyone I love is within ten yards of me. My parents, Brock and Erin, and the other wise men—Charlie and Matt, and their wives. My brother, Hal, and his wife Izzy. My cousins, Albie, Summer, Leon, Clio, and Noah, of course, and their partners.

  And Stefan, of course. He’s not a King, but he is like an honorary one. He’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. His dad, Nikau, has worked with mine for about thirty years now, and his mom is close friends with mine. I know Stefan’s sister, Maia, quite well, and Hal and Stefan are best mates.

  My gaze lingers on him, watching him reading something on his phone. I’ve had a crush on him ever since I can remember. I’ve dreamed about him since I was a teenager, and pictured myself dating him, kissing him, doing other things with him all the way through my teenage years and my twenties. I don’t know why; maybe it’s just because he was always around, the way you do with your brother’s best mate. But it’s not just that. He’s gorgeous. His grandfather was Swedish, so we always tease him that he has Viking in him. It wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case; although he has dark hair, he’s six-foot-four and huge, and has this way of glowering at you as if he’s thinking about dragging you off to his cabin by your hair. Or maybe that’s my overactive imagination kicking into gear. He does glower at me, but I don’t think the hair thing is going through his mind.

  For years, I kept my crush to myself. He went to veterinary college and I didn’t see much of him, and I was busy growing up and discovering sex with other partners. And then there was Connor, who I lived with for nearly two years. Stefan had lots of girlfriends, by all accounts, he and Hal going a little wild in their first years of university. And then we all sort of gravitated back to the Ark. I broke up with Connor, and Stefan’s been single for a while. And I thought, well, why not?

  I’ve never been sure if he liked me. We’re good friends. Or we were. But he’s never made a move on me; he’s never even hinted that he finds me attractive. His eyes tell a different story, though. He often watches me, or I thought he did, anyway. I was convinced he had feelings for me.

  So, four weeks ago, in Dunedin, while we were having a dance at the wedding, I took a deep breath and asked in my most seductive voice if he was interested in coming back to my room at the end of the evening.

  He stopped dancing, stared at me, and said, “No.” Just like that. Blunt as.

  Embarrassed and humiliated, I gave a short laugh and said, “Okay…”

  But he didn’t laugh back, or apologize. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry to have to say this, Jules, but you’re not my type, and you never will be.”

  And then he walked away without looking back, leaving me in the middle of the dance floor alone, and he hasn’t spoken to me since.

  That’s not hyperbole. We haven’t exchanged one word.

  Part of that’s my fault. When he walks into a room, I walk out. If we happen to be present at the same meeting, I sit at the opposite end of the table and remain silent unless someone directly asks me a question. I pretend he doesn’t exist. And he seems to be remarkably comfortable with that.

  Inside, though, I’m still hurting. Ryan said he thinks Stefan’s decision has something to do with the fact that I’m his best mate’s little sis, but that’s not a good enough excuse. He could have let me down gently. Explained his reasoning. Instead, he broke my heart into so many pieces that I’m having trouble finding them all. You know how when you smash a glass, you find fragments scattered across the entire room, under the fridge, behind drawers? Well, that’s what he did to my heart that day.

  It’s possible I’ve found all the bits, and I’m starting to rearrange them and fit them together, but I haven’t come close to gluing them into a complete whole.

  If I’m honest—and I wouldn’t say this to anyone—I hate him, just a little, for what he said to me, especially after what happened with Connor. I don’t expect to be treated with kid gloves. But I thought Stefan was a good friend of mine, and that he would have been conscious of how fragile I am after what happened.

  Or maybe he has no idea. He is a guy, after all, and it’s true that in public I laughed off my breakup, and I didn’t tell the guys at the Ark what happened, even though I’m sure most of them know by now. Stefan’s probably in his own little world, and he didn’t give a second thought to how I was feeling.

  He looks up suddenly, straight at me, and my heart gives a little jolt. Our eyes meet for just a second, and I feel as if he’s reached across the airport lounge, closed a hand around my heart, and squeezed it.

  Then he looks away, back at his phone, and the connection breaks.

  Fuck you, I think angrily. Fuck you, fuck all men, fuck Christmas, and fuck this stupid vacation, where I’m going to have to pretend to be happy with my family.

  Fuck everything.

  Chapter Two

  Stefan

  It’s going to be a long day. A long couple of
days, in fact, bearing in mind the journey is going to take thirty-four hours if you include stops.

  Our first long-haul flight, which will take over seventeen hours, is from Auckland to Dubai. Then we have a seven-hour flight from Dubai to Oslo. Following that will be a one-hour-twenty-minutes flight from Oslo to Helsinki, and then finally a one-hour-fifteen-minute flight to Rovaniemi Airport in Finland.

  We could easily all have afforded first class, but most of the Kings family have partners, and first class, while luxurious with its individual, enclosed cabins, can sometimes leave you feeling a bit isolated on a long journey if you’re not on your own, so Noah booked us all business class. Thank God. I can only imagine how tough it would be flying all that way cattle class. As the boarding call comes and we scan our tickets and head to the plane, I thank my mother in my head for spending her younger years hacking into computer security systems, redesigning them, and making a fortune. Like the Kings, I’ve tried not to let the fact that I’m wealthy go to my head, but at times like this I’m thankful I have money.

  “I still can’t get my head around the fact that the journey is thirty-four hours long, but when we land it’ll only be Sunday night,” Hal says as we head up the tunnel to the plane.

  I give him a wry smile. Finland is eleven hours behind New Zealand at the moment. “I haven’t had jet lag for years,” I reply. “Since I went to the States.”

  “More time in bed,” Hal says cheerfully. “No complaints from me.”

  “I’m sure you’re more than happy to cuddle up in the reindeer furs with your new wife,” I tell him. “It’s not quite so much fun when you’re single.”

  “You had your chance,” Hal replies. “Not my fault if you didn’t take it.” He meets my gaze briefly before entering the plane and smiling at the flight attendant. He’s only slightly joking.

  He’s talking about his sister, Jules, and the fact that she and I finally had the conversation I’d known would come one day at Leon’s wedding last month. It’s given me nightmares ever since. I can remember the moment so clearly. I hardly ever see her in a skirt; she nearly always wears jeans and T-shirts or sweaters, so when she walked onto the lawn in her bridesmaid dress, my eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. She looked like a princess, so incredibly beautiful it took my breath away. It was all I could do to stop my tongue rolling out of my mouth onto the floor like a cartoon character’s. She glanced across at where I was sitting in the front row of seats, and her eyes met mine, and right then I knew it was going to happen that day—she was going to bring into being the attraction that has simmered between us all these years, like Frankenstein giving life to his monster.