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

  “Yes.” I don’t find it difficult to believe. Elise Rogers is fun and outspoken, and I can totally see her and Sarah Albright causing trouble.

  “They made a lot of money out of it, and when she found out about my grandpa, she offered to hire Dad for a month so he’d have the money to pay for the treatment. She’d have given him the money, but he would never have taken it as a gift.”

  “Plus it was an excuse to get him into bed again, no doubt.”

  “Oh yeah, I think so. I’m guessing Dad’s training at Casanovas made him an attractive prospect.” His lips curve up.

  “Did he pass on any of his techniques to his son?” I ask airily.

  Stefan’s amused gaze slides back to me. “That would be telling.”

  “Aw, go on. Spill the beans. Tell me.”

  He smiles, and I can see his brain working as he thinks about how to reply. “He did once tell me something,” he replies softly. “I was seventeen. I’d had a couple of girlfriends, but you know what it’s like—it’s all fumbling in the dark. I had no idea what I was doing. I made a joke about it one night, when Mom and Maia were out somewhere, and it was just the two of us watching rugby. He asked me how my date the night before had gone, and I said something like, ‘I don’t think she’ll be coming back for more.’ Dad said, ‘It’s all about the girl, son. Make it all about her, and she’ll worship the ground you walk on.’ Turns out he wasn’t wrong.” He gives me a mischievous smile.

  Heat flows through me, and it’s nothing to do with the hot grape juice. Ooh. If that’s his approach in bed, I can see why he’s so popular with women.

  “And yet you’re single,” I say. “How come? Why aren’t you married to one of your blonde bimbos, with six kids?”

  “Blonde bimbos?”

  “Oh, come on,” I scoff. “Their shoe size had to be bigger than their IQ.”

  “Not at all, I happen to like clever women.”

  “And yet, as I said, you’re nearly thirty and still single. So what went wrong?”

  Chapter Eight

  Stefan

  I don’t want to answer that question. How can I tell her that I’ve gone out with some of the most beautiful women in New Zealand, and yet when I was with them, it was a girl with chocolate-brown hair and huge brown eyes who plagued my fantasies?

  She wouldn’t believe me anyway, and she’d be right to question it. It’s not as if I’ve been shy in dating. I’ve been lucky, and I’ve known some wonderful women. But she has a point with her query as to why I’m still single.

  “Just never met the right girl,” I tell her.

  “Perfection doesn’t exist,” she replies. “Perhaps you need to lower your expectations.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Do you want to settle down? Have a family?”

  Ahead of us is the Exhibition Center, glowing in the semi-darkness. We pause and finish off our drinks, then toss the cups in a nearby recycling can.

  “I haven’t ruled it out,” I reply. “Equally, I’m not thinking about it all the time. I’m not desperate to have children. Do you want kids?”

  She shrugs. “Probably, one day.” Her gaze drifts off into the distance.

  It must be awkward for her, being surrounded by couples who will probably be announcing their own pregnancies in the near future. Hal told me that he and Izzy began trying as soon as they were married, and I can’t imagine the others will be far behind.

  What would it feel like to have sex without a condom, and know that you could make a baby every time you make love? I’ve never given it much thought before. Briefly, I imagine Jules pregnant, her hand resting on her swelling stomach. How would it feel to know it was my baby?

  Her gaze comes back to me. I clear my throat. “Shall we go in?”

  She nods, and together we go into the center. Enough of that kind of thinking, I tell myself sternly, conscious of a strange twist deep inside. The last thing I need to dwell on is getting Jules King pregnant.

  The Exhibition Center is huge, and dedicated to the story of Santa and the celebration of the holiday season across the world. It’s beautifully designed, with plenty of activities for kids to do to keep them occupied while their parents read the colorful displays. We wander through, smiling at Albie and Remy, who are just ahead of us, and then stopping to chat to Brock and Erin.

  We read about the Giant Lantern Festival in the Philippines, and ooh and aah at the magnificent lanterns erected above our heads. The German St. Nicholas wanders around the exhibition handing out chocolates and small toys to children who are willing to draw him a picture. We watch a video about Caracas in Venezuela, where the residents head to church on Christmas Eve on roller skates, and another where Africans wish us Merry Christmas in some of their two thousand languages.

  There’s a whole section on holiday food across the world, and we get to sample latkes or fried potato pancakes from Israel, Italian panettone, melomakarona or sweet-orange zest cookies soaked in honey and topped with walnuts from Greece, and fried chicken from Japan, because apparently it’s a tradition for the Japanese to have a KFC on Christmas Eve.

  By this time, most of our party have joined us, and we swap stories and crack jokes as we try all the fayre and look at all the displays. I lose Jules for a while as she goes off with Clio and Remy to look at some costumes, but that’s okay. I can’t expect to be joined at the hip to her twenty-four-seven, even if we are the only two singletons on this vacation.

  It takes a couple of hours to see everything in the exhibition, and then we all start heading outside. It’s snowing again, and the village is busy, with excitement heavy in the air like glitter. Everywhere, kids are dashing about, making snowmen or throwing snowballs, or running over to the theme park, where their yells and screams as they enjoy the rides echo throughout the village.

  “Excitement levels are on overload,” Hal says, coming to stand next to me. “And it’s the same with the kids, I think.” He grins.

  “Having a good time?” I say.

  “Yeah. It’s my first vacation with Izzy, because you can’t really count Leon’s wedding, as I was tied up most of the time with best man duties. So it’s good to get away.”

  “Even if you’re surrounded by your family?” I ask, amused.

  He shrugs. “I love my family, so yeah, it’s no hardship having them around.”

  He turns to talk to Ryan as he passes with Clio. I watch him, feeling a twist of envy. Of course, it’s not been all plain sailing for him. But he’s found his perfect girl, and carefree, happy Hal is always going to be oblivious to the issues that others around him may face. He wouldn’t have had a clue how Ryan felt when his eight-year marriage came to an end and he lost his beautiful home. And although he would happily have punched Connor in the face for what he did to his sister, Hal would never be able to guess the torment that Jules must have gone through.

  I’m sure she’s still reeling from the aftereffects of that. How could she not? The things we do to women. Disgust knifes through me, sharp enough to make me catch my breath.

  “You okay?” Hal says in a rare moment of sensitivity.

  “Fine.” I gesture at the others, who appear to be heading off. “I think we’ve got the crossing the Arctic Circle ceremony now, haven’t we?”

  “Yeah.”

  We take the path heading north out of the village. Once again, I find myself next to Jules as we walk, and she smiles up at me, eyes bright.

  “This is a first, isn’t it?” she says.

  “Sure is. I have to admit, I’m rather enjoying myself,” I tell her.

  “I’m so glad,” she says. “I did worry that you’d be too homesick to have fun.”

  Aw, she’s worried about me? I think about that as we approach a large area ringed with colored fairy lights. The snow has been cleared, and Rudi is waiting for us. There’s a long, painted line on the tarmac in front of us, and a banner above it declaring here is where the Arctic Circle starts. We all stand on one side of it, and once we’re al
l assembled, he gives us a few facts about the line of latitude. I learn that it depends on the Earth’s axial tilt, that the land within it is divided between eight countries, and that only four million people live in that area, which is roughly the same population as in New Zealand.

  Then he encourages us to all join hands. I grip Jules’s gloved hand in mine, tingling again at the contact even though there’s about three inches of wool between us, and then together we all jump over the line, laughing.

  I’m in the Arctic Circle! I feel a burst of excitement, and I cheer with everyone else. As they all turn to the person nearest them for a celebratory hug, I look down at Jules and I know this moment will remain imprinted on my mind forever—the dull sky and the glitter from the fairy lights, the snowflakes on her face and eyelashes, and the look in her eyes as she gazes up at me.

  On impulse, I bend my head and press my lips to hers.

  It’s only a brief kiss. She inhales sharply, but she doesn’t move away. My cold lips remain on hers for less than three seconds, but it’s enough to send sparks shooting through me, and to heat me through as if I’ve drunk a whole gallon of Finnish Glögi.

  I lift my head and glance around, hoping everyone isn’t staring at us. Only Clio has noticed, though, and as she meets my eyes, hers sparkle, but she doesn’t say anything and turns away.

  I look back at Jules, whose eyes are comically wide.

  “Sorry,” I say to her. “I got caught up in the moment.”

  “You fiend,” she says. “How could you?” Her tone is mild—she’s being funny.

  “I’m a rascal,” I reply. “You can slap my face if you like.”

  She just laughs, though, and walks away, following the rest of our group down to the restaurant for lunch. I follow, feeling tingly all over. I’m such an idiot. It was a foolish thing to do. The last thing that girl needs is to have a guy take advantage of her.

  And yet she didn’t push me away, and she hardly looked horrified.

  Still, it mustn’t happen again. I scold myself silently as we enter the restaurant and head over to the tables reserved for our party by the window. The tables are round and seat eight, so we have three of them. I hang back as everyone takes their seats, and I note that Jules is doing the same. As usual, two seats end up empty next to each other, so I end up sitting next to her.

  I’m not going to complain.

  It’s early-ish, only just midday, but we’re all hungry, presumably because of the cold weather. We eat huge bowls of creamy salmon soup or thick vegetable soup with barley flatbread and churn butter, and finish with blueberry pie, made from fruit picked from the blueberry forests around the village.

  “That was absolutely delicious,” Jules says, pushing away her dish. “I’m so stuffed.”

  “You’ll need to work up an appetite this afternoon,” Clio says, “ready for dinner.” She glances at me, her eyes dancing. Ryan nudges her, but he’s laughing, too, so she’s obviously told him about the kiss.

  “I’d better go for a run, then,” Jules says, and Clio snorts.

  “What’s on the itinerary now?” Brock asks, oblivious to the undercurrent.

  “Shopping!” Jules says gleefully. “I was thinking that because we didn’t bring any of our presents with us, maybe we should have a Secret Santa for Christmas Day?”

  As most of us have only brought one case, we decided we’d leave all our presents back in the bay and open them when we returned.

  “That makes sense,” her mother says. “How do we organize it?”

  Jules reaches for a couple of paper napkins, opens them up, and tears them carefully into strips, then into smaller pieces. She borrows a pen from a waiter and writes down everyone’s name on one of the pieces. Then she puts them all in her beanie and shakes them up.

  “No telling anyone who you’ve got,” she announces, because everyone’s cottoned on to what’s happening by now. “And keep the price of the prezzie around… what shall we say? Twenty Euros? That’s about thirty-five bucks.”

  We all agree that seems reasonable, and she goes around asking everyone to draw out a name. When she returns to her seat, she finally offers the hat to me. I draw out the second-to-last name, and she takes the final one.

  I open the strip of napkin. It says Ophelia—Albie’s mom. I give a silent sigh and get up to visit the Gents’.

  I’ve just gone in when the door opens and Charlie King comes in. We nod, and he takes a urinal two down from mine, as is the tradition.

  “Lovely lunch,” he says.

  “The soup was amazing,” I reply. “I’m looking forward to the meal tonight.”

  “I have no idea what to expect,” he says as we zip up our trousers and go to wash our hands. “It’s going to be bizarre eating in a jacket, hat, and gloves.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  He dries his hands on a paper towel. “The Secret Santa was a good idea. Who did you get?”

  “We’re not supposed to say.”

  “I got Jules,” he says. “No idea what to get her. Don’t suppose you want to swap?”

  I toss my paper towel into the trash and narrow my eyes at him. He gives me an innocent look—too innocent.

  “Charlie King, are you playing Cupid?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re as bad as Noah,” I scold.

  He waves the strip of napkin. “Do you want Jules or not?”

  Ignoring the way I could interpret that, I give him a wry look. “Give me that.” I take it from him and hand him the name of his wife.

  He gives me a satisfied grin. “Perfect. I know just what I’m going to give her.”

  “Just make sure you tie a bow around it,” I tell him.

  Laughing, the two of us return to the restaurant. As I sit, I wonder why Charlie thinks I’m interested in Jules. Is it just because we’re the last two single people present? Did he see me kiss her? Or did he pick up on something else?

  At that moment, my phone buzzes in the pocket of my jeans. I pull it out and check the screen—I have a text from Maia. I calculate swiftly—it’s around one a.m. there. Frowning, I pull up the text.

  Miss you, it says. Hope you’re having a great time, though.

  What are you doing up? I text her back.

  Can’t sleep, she says a short while later. Nightmares.

  My stomach twists. Sorry to hear that, I message. I hope you get some sleep soon.

  I’m sure I will, she says. Is it cold there?

  Freezing!

  LOL, she says. Make sure you don’t get frostbite anywhere important!

  I send her a shocked emoji and then finish with, I’ll call you tonight, if you like?

  That would be nice. Look forward to it.

  I put the phone back in my pocket and study my drink. Even after a year, she’s still having nightmares. And nothing I or my parents can do can change that. I feel so helpless.

  “Everything all right?” Jules asks.

  I force a smile. “Fine. Looks as if we’re heading out.” I get to my feet and follow the others to the door, leaving Jules behind me. It’s the best way.

  Chapter Nine

  Jules

  After lunch, I spend a pleasant couple of hours shopping.

  I don’t see much of Stefan. I have a feeling that’s something to do with the text he received at the table, although he hasn’t told me, and of course I can’t ask him. Who could it have been from? An ex? Whoever it was, it bummed him out, because he disappeared shortly after, and I haven’t seen him since.

  I try to put him to the back of my mind and concentrate on my shopping. I picked Simon, Summer’s youngest boy, for Secret Santa, and it shouldn’t be too difficult finding something that a nine-year-old boy will enjoy. I also want to treat myself to some Finnish craft items for my apartment, and buy Clio and Ryan something nice for their bach, as they’ve recently moved in together. So I’ve plenty to do.

  It’s hard to concentrate, thou
gh, after The Kiss.

  It didn’t mean anything. I know that. Although he’s the straightest, most serious man I know most of the time, even Stefan can obviously get carried away in the heat of the moment.

  But the look in his eyes… And the feel of his lips on mine…

  Actually, I couldn’t feel much because it’s so cold and my lips were numb. And it was literally, like, a three-second kiss. But it doesn’t matter. Stefan kissed me. He kissed me. Right out of the blue. I didn’t ask him for it. I wasn’t flirting with him. I can’t be blamed in any way. It was all him.

  But it doesn’t mean anything.

  I tear my mind away from replaying it a hundred times over and force myself to concentrate on the shopping.

  There are local workshop stores with items made from reindeer leather, silver and gold jewelry, mugs and clothing and toys, rugs and paintings and every kind of reindeer and Santa ornament you can think of.

  I immerse myself in browsing, occasionally bumping into Albie or Poppy or Summer, and soon I have half a dozen items in my basket, and I know I’m going to have to make a move because I don’t have room for anything else in my case. And anyway, it’ll be time for dinner soon, and I want to put my feet up for a while before we head out. I woke up really early and had trouble getting back to sleep, so I feel kinda tired now.

  I go to the counter to pay, put my items in my new tote bag that has a reindeer on the front with a red bobble for a nose, and go outside. Ooh, it’s cold. The snow is falling more thickly now, coating the Christmas trees and the lampposts and the hats of the people walking around. A nearby stall is selling slices of Christmas cake, and the smell of warmed raisins and cinnamon makes my stomach rumble.

  “I’m starving again,” someone complains next to me. “I’m permanently ravenous on this vacation.”