Christmas Box Set

by Nella Tyler

  He went on to explain the rest of the area of the city around the British Museum. “There’s a smaller museum,” he said. “And, it’s got some of the best pieces of art you’ll ever see, including at the big fancy museum where your girl works.”

  I frowned at that and it occurred to me for the first time that he could just be fucking with me because I wasn’t from the area. He was telling me about another pub — this time called the Bull’s Tongue Pub, which sounded pretty suspicious, now that I was thinking about it — that had some of the best fish and chips in London.

  I was happy when we finally pulled up to curb in front of the museum. My heart leapt into my throat. I could see Sophia standing next to one of the huge columns lining the front of the building, dressed professionally in a knee-length dark gray skirt and bright blue blouse, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

  It seemed to take a long time for us to come to a stop. “Can you wait here for us?” I asked, one leg out of the open door. “We’ll only be a second.”

  “Be an hour if you like, mate, so long as you pay at the end!”

  I grinned. “Thanks.” I jumped out of the cab and started across the wide expanse of concrete to get to where Sophia was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. I kept my hand firmly over the right pocket of my jeans to keep what I had there from popping out in my hurry. I looked over my shoulder once to make sure the cabbie was waiting on me, and he waved from the driver’s seat as I hurried away from him.

  On the way up the stairs, I stopped a woman in her forties going in the opposite direction.

  “Ma’am, would you please take a picture of me and my girlfriend?” I pointed to where Sophia was standing about five feet away, a light frown on her face as she watched me talk to this woman in a low voice.

  The woman looked at Sophia and then back at me. She shrugged. “Sure, if you like.” She had platinum blonde hair and slight German accent.

  I hurried the remaining few feet to where Sophia was waiting. She opened her mouth to question me, but I didn’t give her the chance to get the words out before I tugged the ring out of my pocket and dropped down to one knee. She gasped and brought both her hands to her mouth, her dark brown eyes open wide. I held the ring out to her.

  “Sophia Ray, will you make me the happiest man on this earth by agreeing to become my wife?”

  She just watched me for a few long seconds, trembling hands pressed over the lower half of her face while a crowd began to gather around us. The woman I’d left my cellphone with was snapping pictures like crazy, shifting around so she could get us from every angle, which I appreciated. I gave Sophia time to process this without saying a word, though my stomach was twisting in knots. Finally, she nodded and dropped her hands.

  “Yes, Carter, of course I’ll marry you,” she whispered.

  “She said yes!” someone shouted from right behind me, starling us both, and the crowd that had assembled around us on the stairs let out a cheer.

  I stood to give Sophia a deep kiss while the crowd cheered again. I smiled as I wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  “You didn’t have to come all this way to ask me to marry you,” she said, seeming embarrassed by the eyes that were still on us, including the eager junior photographer who was still eating up all the available memory on my phone by snapping nonstop photos of what I hoped would look like a heartwarming scene. I’d already told my Dad, Alice, and Lacey of my plans, and they’d given me stern instructions to send them pictures of the happy event.

  “Baby, I’d travel anywhere just to see you smile,” I replied, and she smiled again. I put the ring on her finger, realizing I still had it clenched in my fist. It looked gorgeous on her — my fiancée. We kissed again, and the crowd cheered for a third time. This time, even my cheeks were burning.

  Epilogue

  Sophia

  A Few Years Later

  I’d researched everything about Bangkok before we took off on our three-week long jaunt through a handful of Asian countries, starting with Thailand.

  We were visiting one of the night markets this evening. The weather was sweltering, despite the fact that the sun had gone down more than an hour ago, but there was a lovely breeze flowing through the multicolored tents, each one lit up brightly to show off their wares. My stomach was growling loudly at the scent of food being cooked. Not that anyone could hear the grumbling of my stomach over the sounds of hundreds of shoppers pressed tightly together. There was so much to see here and so much to eat. I hadn’t had a bad meal since we’d arrived several days earlier.

  Carter put a protective arm around my shoulders and brought me a little closer to him. I’d noticed these kinds of gestures increasing in the last few weeks especially, but I didn’t mind them. I liked that he wanted to keep us safe. He was a great husband and would make an even better father.

  “I’m glad we could take this break before you dive headfirst into the new job,” Carter said, his eyes traveling over the seemingly endless line of booths. We could be here all night and not see everything.

  “I’m just surprised they allowed me the time,” I said. I’d accepted a position as the assistant director of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art a few weeks earlier. After spending so many years working at the British Museum, I was more than ready to return to the United States, especially since it meant being so close to Carter’s home base.

  He’d received a number of promotions, too; the first of which allowed him to spend most of his time in England with me after we got married, though he’d still needed to fly back to California a few times a year. This was the first time we’d truly be living and working in the same city since we reconnected all those years ago after his dad married my mom. We’d heard the full gamut of jokes about being husband and wife as well as brother and sister.

  “I like this one,” Carter said, pointing at a small statue of Buddha. We’d already bought something similar for everyone we knew. It was always so difficult to know what to buy people when you went on trips. I preferred to send pictures because the best part of any trip for me was always the food, and you couldn’t bring any of that back with you unless it was prepackaged.

  “Let’s find some food,” I suggested, and pointed out an impressive array of sushi at the next booth. Just the sight of it made my mouth water. “That looks amazing.”

  Carter gave me a look, one of his eyebrows cocked high. “You know you aren’t supposed to eat fish. Who knows what kind of regulations they have over here. That could be packed full of mercury.”

  I rolled my eyes but softened it with a smile. I’d seen him chowing down on some mercury-laced fish just yesterday. “Don’t worry, I’m not having any fish.” I dropped my hand to the slight bulge at my waist. “I wouldn’t put our little Jimmy or Katie at risk.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “You need to stop using those names or they’re going to stick.”

  “Morticia or Gomez then.”

  “That’s better.”

  We giggled together as we walked to one of the booths selling skewers of teriyaki chicken. The aroma was amazing. I wanted about ten skewers, but would settle for two or three. There’d be more to eat at another booth. After we bought a few skewers for each of us, we went on our way, munching and chatting as our eyes traveled over the wonderland of activity, food, and souvenirs for sale.

  “We won’t be able to travel around like this soon,” Carter remarked. We’d traveled extensively throughout Europe during my time at the British Museum. It had been amazing. Now that we were on the west coast together, I wanted to start on Asia. There was so much to see in the world. Australia was on my list, too. And New Zealand. Hawaii. Just about everywhere, to be honest.

  “We have many months before my pregnancy will start to be an issue where traveling is concerned. I’m only three months along.” But since I’d started showing, Carter had begun his campaign to keep me safe, which included reading and rereading What to Expect When You’re Expecting and doing his best to drive
me up the damned wall, but lovingly.

  “It might even be a good idea to keep traveling when I’m obviously pregnant,” I said, and pulled a bite of chicken off my skewer with my teeth. It was outstanding. “People might be nicer to us. You never know.”

  He chuckled and took a bite of his own chicken as his hazel eyes kept sweeping over the long aisle. “I just don’t want you going into labor in some foreign country where we don’t even speak the language.”

  Carter loved traveling now, but he still fell back into old habits, sounding a little like a crotchety old man when we discussed other countries. I found it cute, especially now that most of his apprehension had to do with our child.

  “It’ll be okay. We’ll keep our traveling to the States once I’m in my third trimester. I won’t be able to fly then anyway.” He’d reminded me of that about a hundred times on the flight out here. “I can’t wait to go to places like this with our child. Think of how well rounded she’ll be.” I had a feeling I was having a girl, though I wanted to be surprised on the delivery date and so hadn’t asked the technician to reveal the sex during the ultrasound.

  “Or he,” Carter pointed out. “Not that I care. I’m going to love the child either way.”

  We finished our chicken as we discussed all the experiences we wanted to share with our child, and all the love, too. We’d both had difficult upbringings, each losing a parent too early. I didn’t want that for our child. I wanted to wrap her in a love so strong, it would protect her from every terrible thing she might face in the world during her lifetime.

  We dropped our skewers into a trash can. I was ready to keep going — there was still so much to see…and to eat! — but Carter swung me gently around to face him, his wide eyes serious and full of that quiet love that had only grown since I’d told him I was pregnant. People kept streaming along on either side of us, not impeded in the least by us stopping in the middle of the aisle.

  “You know, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Sophia Mills.”

  I smiled at that and reached to wipe some teriyaki from the corner of his mouth. “You sure are full of gooey feelings today.”

  “I just keep my promises, that’s all.”

  I gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

  Now he smiled, his straight white teeth shining in the bright lights of a nearby booth. “I said I’d marry you way back in kindergarten.”

  I burst out laughing before lifting onto my tip toes to plant a kiss on his smiling mouth. “Well, I promised to marry you, too. And, I’m glad I kept my end of the bargain.”

  We broke apart and started walking down the aisle again, his arm settling on my shoulders and bringing me in close to him as we went along. I couldn’t keep my eyes from springing over all the knickknacks and strange foods in every booth. I wanted to touch everything, to taste everything. The more traveling I did, the stronger this adventurous feeling got instead of weakening. There were so many places to go, and I was glad to have Carter by my side to come with me. And, very soon, baby would make three.

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  CHRISTMAS BILLIONAIRE

  CHRISTMAS BILLIONAIRE

  By Nella Tyler

  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 and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Nella Tyler

  Dexter

  Aw Fuck! I thought as I sprinted into the gym and saw that Garrett’s car was already parked in its spot in the lot.

  Of course, he was already there. Why wouldn’t he be? The meathead practically lived at the gym. He had his own parking spot.

  In all fairness, the parking spot wasn’t official, but pity the poor bastard who parked there.

  Garrett was my best friend, but with his brute strength and bulging muscles, there was a Hulk-like anger that came along with it. He knew better than to go green on me, but I was the exception.

  I had known him for far too long, since grade school to be exact, and therefore, I had earned the right not to put up with any of his shit.

  However, I certainly wasn’t good enough to slip past hearing about how I was late for the gym…again.

  Yet, while this was Garrett’s home, sometimes literally, it was my begrudging necessity. I was far too busy and my life was far too complicated to enjoy anything, especially more work.

  “Well, well, well! Would you look at that? The pussy actually decided to show,” Garrett jeered, spotting me from across the room and yelling so that everyone in the gym looked up from what they were doing.

  Thankfully, when they realized who had spoken and whom he was talking to, most the onlookers, either from fear or complacency, returned to their reps without a second thought.

  “Fuck you!” I yelled back as I jogged up to him. “Some of us have other obligations.”

  “Yeah, well, I get my screwin’ and my drinkin’ done too, but I still managed to get to the gym on time.”

  “I’m only a few minutes late, and besides, I do it for your own benefit,” I answered and when his expression grew intrigued, I continued, “You worrying if I’m gonna show is about the only way to get your heart rate up anymore.”

  I took a swing at his chest and hit a solid wall of muscle.

  “You know damn well that isn’t true,” he replied, grinning in a raunchy manner. “There are quite a few things that get my heart rate, among other things, up, but you sure as hell aren’t one of them.”

  I laughed as I turned toward the weight rack and pulled out my allotted poundage.

  I was surprised Garrett didn’t say anything about the fact that I was lifting far less than he was, though I still thought it wasn’t too shabby. I was going for a toned look, while Garrett took pride in nursing the whiskey barrels a that had grown under his skin. While he wanted everyone to know the power he held, I was more modest. I wanted to look good and be healthy, but I wasn’t about to slather myself in oil and win any competitions.

  I wasn’t sure if Garrett ever did something like that, but if he did, that was one aspect of my friend’s life that I wanted nothing to do with.

  “So, how did that deal go?” Garrett inquired after I had completed a set.

  I grunted as I started my next rep and glanced over at him, slightly envious of his clean brow, while mine was already nearly saturated.

  “I’m still not sure yet. My father is all about this deal, and I’m supposed to be his golden-fucking-goose, but I have no idea how to approach them.”

  “I thought you had that meeting last night.”

  “Yeah…I did,” I told him, pretending that the strain I felt was more from the conversation than the screaming in my muscles. I groaned.

  “That good, huh?” he moved an eyebrow upwards and snickered.

  Garrett was well aware of how my father acted as the resident tyrant, not only in my house, but also where I worked.

  I was hired out of college by my old man, and at the time, it sounded like a sweet deal, but now, nearly twelve years later, I realized that I had signed a contract with the devil himself. In all fairness, I should’ve expected as much.

  My father was a grade-A asshole, and everyone who had ever met him knew it. He used money and power, which he had an abundance of after starting his own marketing firm nearly thirty years ago, to control people.

  As a father and husband, he wasn’t much different. Although, he provided for us and in his own way; I’d like to think he cared about us more than his clients and the people he screwed over to make a buck. However, most days, especially on days like this one, I thought that line of thinking might simply be wishful.

  “What happened?” Garrett urged when I didn’t elaborate.

  “My dad’s a dick.”

  “Everyone knows that.”

&n
bsp; “Yeah, well he continues to try to prove it like there isn’t any doubt,” I grumbled, starting to work out my other arm and making the previous one feel like jelly. Through my simmering rage, I might have overdone it a bit, but that’s what working out is for, right? It was hailed as a stress-reliever, and with having to live life with my father, digging his claws into every aspect of it like a flesh-eating parasite, it was either working out or shock therapy.

  “What happened? I thought you were excited to pitch that strategy.”

  “I was until the old man told me it was shit,” I shook my head with betterment, “The worst part is, he was right, so I dodged the bullet and had my secretary reschedule the meeting for Monday. That’s what I was working on, putting a proposal together.”

  “Did you finish it?”

  “Fuck yeah,” I answered confidently, “I owned that bitch.”

  “Good for you! You know if you won this deal, if what you were telling me is true, that bitch would make your children’s children more money than they could ever spend.”

  “I know. Fortunately, I’m never going to have kids, so that fortune is all going to be mine. I’m going to retire early and tell dear old dad he can kiss my ass.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Garrett insisted, grinning. “Rotten little bastards. Legacy? What legacy?”

  Even though those around us might think he was teasing me and trying to show me the reasons why having a child might be beneficial to me, I knew better.

  Garrett was aware of the legacy my father built for me, and while it was paved with an obscene amount of money, I would never risk being the kind of father to my child that I had to deal with.