My Christmas Billionaire (The Billionaire Kings Book 7) Page 5

  My eyelids drooping, I pull the pillow to my chest. It’s been a while since I’ve been with a woman. I miss the closeness, as well as the physical release. A little DIY might ease the ache but it’s just not the same as having a soft body underneath you, a hot mouth on yours, or sinking your hands into silky brown hair…

  I fall asleep with the sound of Jules’s infectious laughter in my mind, and the look in her big brown eyes when I told her, I thought you should know… how I really feel.

  *

  The next time I wake, it’s nearly seven-thirty. It’s not light, but there’s a yellowish tinge to the horizon, and a kind of half-light to the air, as if it’s permanently dusk. I get up and stretch, then head to the bathroom and have a hot shower before dressing in a set of thermals, which Eva suggested we all bring, jeans and a T-shirt, a thick sweater, and boots, and then my large padded jacket. Finally, I pull on a beanie with a large paw print on it that my sister, Maia, bought for me when she knew I was going to Finland. I’m only walking across to the common room, but I have a feeling the cold is going to slice through me when I go outside.

  At just before eight, I go outside and lock my suite. Sure enough, it’s icy cold outside. My breath frosts before my face, and when I inhale it’s as if an ice cube is sliding down into my lungs.

  “Wow.” It’s Jules, coming out of her suite. “It didn’t get any warmer overnight.”

  “I know. Is it warm enough in your room?”

  “I spent most of the night with the duvet wrapped around me three times, so I wouldn’t know.” She walks up the path toward me. She’s wearing jeans and boots, and her thick jacket, with an adorable fuchsia-pink beanie on her chocolate-colored hair. “It’s odd being semi-dark in the morning,” she continues. “It’s like there’s a solar eclipse.”

  “I wonder if it gets depressing here,” I say as we begin to walk toward the common room. “It’s all very exciting right now in the lead-up to Christmas, but what about after New Year’s, when most people go home, and then it’s just months and months of darkness?”

  “Well, aren’t we Mr. Positive today?” Jules gives me an amused glance.

  “I miss the bay,” I admit. “And Fred.”

  “Aw. You and that soppy dog.”

  “He’s going to wonder why I’ve abandoned him at Christmas.”

  “He’s absolutely not—he’s going to scoff down his turkey dinner with Rawiri and then sleep and fart for the rest of the night like he always does.”

  I give a short laugh and open the door to the main building, stepping back to let her pass. She has to move closer to me as she goes through, and her arm brushes against my chest. I feel the contact as if we’re naked, a shock going through me, from the nape of my neck to the base of my spine.

  Ignoring it, I follow her in.

  The room is busy, with nearly everyone here. The two large dining tables are groaning with plates of pastries, cereal, milk, and fresh fruit. The smell of bacon and eggs cooking fills the air, from the chef over by the stove, while a barista stands by the huge coffee machine, steaming milk and making lattes.

  “Wow.” Jules looks impressed as we take two seats next to Noah and Abby. “I thought we were going to have to go down to the restaurant every morning.”

  “It’s a great service they offer here.” Noah tucks into a huge bowl of cereal topped with chopped fruit. “I’m looking forward to catching up with Eva and Rudi after breakfast and finding out about how they developed the complex.”

  “Did they build it from scratch?” I help myself to a croissant with jam.

  “No, it was Rudi’s father who built it,” Noah says. “By all accounts, he was quite materialistic, and saw the potential of a site in Lapland dedicated to Santa. Eva says Rudi wasn’t really into the whole Christmas thing, but he met her when she was on vacation with her son, and they fell in love, and the two of them decided to make a go of it.”

  “She was married before?” Jules asks, pouring milk over her cereal.

  “Yeah, she met her first husband in the UK while she was on vacation. He died,” Noah says, “in a car accident, leaving her with a baby boy, Oscar. He’s now eight. Rudi has a daughter, too, Isabel, she’s twelve, and he and Eva have a four-year-old together, Mika.”

  “Do they live here all the time?” I ask. “I was saying to Jules, I wonder whether it gets depressing after a while.”

  Noah gives me an amused look. “You think you’d get bored being in the festive mood all the time?”

  “No. Well, yes.”

  “Stefan’s the Bay of Islands Grinch,” Noah says to Abby.

  “Aw,” she says. She’s nursing Ethan, who’s curled contentedly against her, his podgy hand tugging on her sweater. “I know what you mean. It’s one thing to be in the Christmas mood the week before the big day. It’s another in the middle of August.”

  “I get your point,” Noah says.

  “Wouldn’t it be weird, though?” Jules asks. “Coming here after Christmas?”

  “Santa works all year,” Noah says. “Checking his list twice takes time.” He grins. “I imagine it’s a beautiful place to come even in summer. They have a theme park, and with the midnight sun it must be a unique atmosphere. You know we get a certificate if we cross the Arctic Circle?”

  “Seriously?” Jules says.

  “Yep. The circle of latitude runs right through the village.”

  “Cool,” I say. “That’ll be something to tick off the bucket list, anyway.”

  I feel the first prickle of excitement at the thought of the days ahead. I’ve been so busy at work that I haven’t had much chance to think about the vacation. The surgery is always busy in the lead-up to Christmas, and I regretted having to close it this year. There’s another surgery a few miles from us that we work closely with, and we were able to divert all emergencies there, but informing our clients took time, and I had to ensure all the tests we’d ordered and the surgeries we’d had planned were up-to-date before I left. So in my mind, I’ve been thinking about this place as a sickly-sweet, childish nod to Christmas, and I haven’t really been looking forward to it, feeling that I outgrew it years ago.

  Now, I realize I’ve done the place a disservice. There’s a strong local flavor here, from the cuisine to the wildlife, and the whole experience of being in the Arctic Circle is something I’m going to enjoy.

  I look at Jules and find her watching me, a small smile on her face. I’m sure she’s feeling the same way I am, feeling that initial spark of interest in being here.

  Or maybe the interest is in something else. There’s a look in her eye that sends another shiver through me similar to the one when she brushed against me. Her words on the night of Leon’s wedding filter into my mind, and I can’t hold them back. You know how I feel about you, Stef, and I’m sure you feel the same way about me. The timing’s never been right, but I think we’ve waited long enough. Do you want to come back to my room tonight?

  I admit, the suggestion shocked me that evening. I don’t know why. I knew it was coming. I’d been attracted to her for a long time, and I knew she liked me. But it was all unspoken, and saying the words brought it into being, made it real. And turned it from a silent fantasy into something I had to deal with. I remember pausing before I answered, filling with dread at the knowledge that I was going to have to turn her down.

  But before that, for a far-too-brief moment, I felt a flare of joy. She liked me. She wanted to go to bed with me. She desired me.

  As I look into her eyes, I remember that feeling. I let it warm me through before I look away and get up to return my plate to the kitchen.

  Chapter Seven

  Jules

  At around eight-thirty, Eva and Rudi turn up with their three kids to check on us and catch up with Noah. Some people go back to their suites to get ready for the day, and Summer’s two boys go off with Eva’s three to play table football, but the rest of us migrate to the living room and sit on the sofas, chairs, and beanbags to listen to them
talk about the village and the hard work they put into creating it.

  “When I first came here, I wasn’t looking forward to it,” Rudi admits. He speaks amazing English, although his accent contains an adorable Finnish lilt. “I thought it would be too sentimental. And it was, but it was only when I started speaking to the visitors that I realized this is what people are looking for—a return to the magic of Christmas.”

  “The festive season should be a time of celebration,” Eva continues, “but too often becomes a time we dread. For those who have to buy the presents and prepare the family meals, it just means a lot of hard work, and it’s expensive and time-consuming. Then there’s the pressure of performance, of making sure everyone has the most amazing time, and of course when kids are tired and there are all the dishes to do, it’s natural to get irritated and resentful, and then the arguments start.”

  “We spent a long time talking to people about what a true Christmas holiday would involve,” Rudi says. “What do you think they came up with?”

  We all think about it. “No cooking,” Nix says almost immediately.

  Rudi nods. “That was the top of most people’s lists. Everyone loves a traditional Christmas dinner, but it takes a lot of preparation, lasts for thirty minutes, and then takes ages to clear away. So having restaurants that provided the perfect Christmas meal with none of the disadvantages was one of the most important things.”

  “I suppose it’s the same with staying in a hotel,” Izzy says. “Having people come in and clean up and make your bed.”

  “Definitely,” Eva agrees. “We have a huge staff who keep the whole site clean.”

  “Do they miss being with their own families at Christmas?” Noah asks.

  “I think they are glad to get away sometimes,” Rudi says with a grin. “We pay well, and the staff apartments are comfortable. We provide a Christmas dinner for them all and there is a huge party afterward, so there is kind of a family atmosphere.”

  “I suppose for me, it’s all about atmosphere,” Matt King comments. He’s holding his grandson, Ethan, bouncing him on his knee. “When you have young children, you rediscover the magic of Christmas. Leaving carrots out for Rudolph, looking up in the sky for Santa’s sleigh, that kind of thing. It’s easy to lose that as an adult.”

  “That’s right,” Eva says. “At first glance, we know the village can look sentimental. The trees, the lights, the snowmen, the hot-chestnut stalls, the mulled wine. It’s all quite alien to anyone Down Under, and even the English have lost some of that Dickensian-style Christmas feel. That’s what we wanted to recreate.”

  “What about religion?” I ask. “Obviously, Christmas itself is a Christian celebration. How do you approach that?”

  “Santa’s Secret Village is exactly what it says,” Rudi announces, “the home of Santa, a place to celebrate the holiday season, and we try to be inclusive and look at how this time of year is celebrated across the world, especially in our Exhibition Center. We have special displays about Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Las Posadas, Diwali, the Chinese New Year, and the Winter Solstice, as well as Christmas.”

  “Seventy-two percent of Finnish people are Christians, though,” Eva adds, “with only naught-point-four percent following other religions. So we do have carol singers that make their way around the village, and we organize trips to the lovely church nearby that offers a nightly carol service. It has an amazing nativity scene, but of course you’ll get to see that at the wedding.”

  “Do you hold many weddings here?” Stefan asks.

  “Oh yes,” Eva says. “We pride ourselves on our bespoke weddings. We can provide almost anything the customer wants, within reason. I hope you’ll all enjoy it on Tuesday!”

  We all state that it’s going to be fantastic.

  “So,” Rudi says, smiling, “do you know where you want to have dinner tonight?”

  “We’re in your hands,” Noah replies. “We really don’t mind.”

  “Maybe you should try our special Frozen Restaurant,” Rudi declares.

  Our eyes widen. “A frozen restaurant?” I say.

  “It has to be seen to be believed,” Eva says with a grin. “Bring your thermals!”

  “So,” Hal says, “what’s the plan of action for today?”

  “Well, we have drawn you up a very loose schedule,” Rudi says. “Obviously you are welcome to change whatever you want, but we have booked in a few things for you as it gets very busy here at this time of year! Hopefully this will give you a good idea of the range of activities available.”

  He hands out a sheaf of papers with his suggested itinerary, and we all take one. I glance over it. It’s packed full of things to do, with other options available for things like hiring a snowmobile, white-water rafting, and reindeer herding. Reindeer herding! Today, Rudi has suggested a quieter schedule to enable everyone to recover from their jet lag. We have a visit to the Exhibition Center, the crossing the Arctic Circle ceremony, a light lunch in one of the restaurants, and a free afternoon either for visiting Santa or shopping before our trip to the Frozen Restaurant.

  Eva smiles at Abby. “Okay, so we should have a chat about the wedding and make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

  “We’ll shoot off and leave you to it,” Hal says, getting to his feet and pulling Izzy up, and the rest of us rise too and make our way outside.

  “So, the Exhibition Center?” I say to Hal as everyone begins to disperse.

  “Looks like it,” he replies. “We’re going back to the suite first to pick up a few things, and then we’ll head down there.”

  “You mean you’re going to have sex,” I reply as I watch him nuzzle Izzy’s neck.

  “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.” He grins and leads a blushing Izzy off back to their suite.

  I look at Stefan, who’s also watching them go. He gives me an amused smile. I blow out a breath. “I knew this trip was going to be a nightmare.”

  “I know what you mean. It’s a tad irritating when everyone around you is at it. Even the Three Wise Men are getting more than I am, and they’re in their sixties.” His voice holds a hint of exasperation.

  I chuckle, and he gives a wry smile. “Come on,” I tell him. “Let’s head down to the Exhibition Center. We might as well stick to the itinerary, even if everyone else is going to be nipping back to their suites for nookie.”

  Laughing, we head out for our first foray into Santa’s Secret Village. It’s not snowing at the moment, but the roads and paths are covered, and our boots scrunch on it as we walk. The Escape, as our complex is known, is set on a small hill a little above the village, and we head down the hill on a path lined with lanterns that bring a bit more light to the twilight-lit landscape. Christmas trees are dotted around, their fairy lights twinkling through the snow on their branches.

  As we head into the village proper, it becomes much busier and noisier. We pass a snowman-building competition, full of children rolling large snowballs around, then adding hats and scarves and carrot noses from a huge box. All the buildings are lined with fairy lights, and the place is amazingly clean. The staff of the Village move between the guests, wearing red and with a name badge on their jacket, quietly clearing up or providing help and guidance.

  Even this early in the morning, the place is filled with amazing smells from the hot-chestnut stall, the doughnut stall, and the stall selling traditional Finnish Glögi or non-alcoholic mulled wine made from grape juice heated with oranges, cinnamon, and other spices, served with raisins, blanched almonds, and ginger biscuits. It smells so nice that Stefan and I decide to try some, and we warm our hands on the cups as we wander along the main street.

  “I can see why this place is so successful,” he says, having a bite of his ginger biscuit. “They’ve obviously tapped into the part of all of us that remembers being a child, when we were safe and secure, and when Christmas was still a magical time.”

  “It was magical for you?” I ask. “Even though your folks used to spend the day elsewhere?” I sip the G
lögi; it’s delicious, and warmth spreads right through me.

  “Oh yes. We still put out a carrot for Rudolph, and food and drink for Santa. Dad always poured him a glass of his best whisky. I remember asking him how he knew that Santa liked whisky, and he just grinned and said it was a secret.”

  I smile. “I bet it was always gone in the morning.”

  “Always. Amazing, really.”

  I sip from the cup again, debating whether to ask him the question I’ve been dying to ask him for ages. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s a bit personal.”

  He looks down at me, and his blue eyes survey me. His nose is red at the tip, as mine is, I’m sure, and his breath frosts in front of his face. I love his paw-print hat. I know he didn’t want to come here; that he would much rather have stayed at the Ark and looked after the animals. I’m pleased he did this for Noah. I hope he has a good time, even though Christmas isn’t his thing.

  “Go on,” he states.

  “It’s about your dad,” I say.

  His lips curve up. “Is this about him being a Casanova?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I can’t help it; I’m fascinated. “How long was he an escort for?”

  “Oh, not long, three or four months, I think.” We sidestep to avoid a couple of kids having a snowball fight, chuckling as one of them squeals when a piece of snow goes down his neck.

  “How did he get into it?” I ask.

  “He needed money to pay for private treatment for my grandpa’s Alzheimer’s. He’d never have been able to raise the money in an ordinary job. He’d just come out of the army, and there was nothing available, only being a security guard almost at minimum wage. A friend of his suggested he do it. He was single, and he thought he’d give it a go. A few months in, he met Mom. You know she and her friend used to hack into the computer systems of big corporations, right?”