A Christmas Proposition (Dallas Billionaires Club Book 3)

by Jessica Lemmon

  Emmett reminded himself that his best friend slash employer had no idea that Emmett was in bed with her that very morning and answered accordingly.

  “Smooth sailing.”

  “Good.” Chase’s intense glare lessened. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.” From an inside coat pocket, Emmett extracted an envelope and handed it over. “It’s a museum membership for the year. I figured that’d be better than a jam-of-the-month club.”

  “You didn’t have to—” Chase cut himself off. “Thank you, Em.”

  Emmett nodded his appreciation at Chase’s acceptance and then deposited the other envelopes for Zach and Pen, Rider and Elle, and Stefanie under the tree. He knew none of them needed anything Emmett could provide, but he would never crash their Christmas empty-handed.

  He kissed Elle’s cheek when she walked in, a glass of champagne in hand. “Sorry we’re late.”

  “I like eating late,” Miriam, Chase’s fiancée, said. She had no problem taking Emmett’s side, especially if it meant disagreeing with Elle. Those two had a past patchier than the quilt on the B and B bed that Emmett and Stefanie had shared.

  “I alerted the kitchen staff to keep everything warm since my daughter was going to show up whenever she pleased.”

  Stefanie’s eyelids narrowed with determination. When her mouth opened, Emmett interjected.

  “It’s my fault. I slept in. Late Christmas Eve celebration.”

  “How was San Antonio?” Elle asked.

  “About that... I have an announcement to make before dinner,” Stef said, clearly uninterested in exchanging niceties. “Can you grab Daddy?”

  “I’m here. I’m here.” Rider stepped into the room with a martini in hand. “Emmett, drink?”

  “I’d better.”

  He took one more glance around the room at Rider in a jacket and tie, Elle in a glittery black dress, Stefanie in a pink dress with lace sleeves. Zach and Pen walked in next, a sleeping Olivia on Zach’s hip—all of them dressed to the nines, as well. Chase wore his usual suit and tie, and Miriam was in a green velvet dress. Emmett was in his standard security garb: black slacks, white shirt.

  One of these doesn’t belong.

  As soon as Stefanie broke their news, that fact would become more apparent.

  Emmett helped himself to scotch from the bar cart and Stefanie crossed the room to stand next to him. He meant to sip, but when she wove her fingers with his, he downed his scotch in one long, burning swallow before setting the glass on the cart.

  “Emmett and I didn’t go to San Antonio. We were in Harlington, a small town outside San Antonio where I hosted a dinner for families who can’t afford their own Christmas celebrations.”

  Like mine, he thought numbly.

  “Harlington?” Elle said, barely above a whisper, her eyes homed in on Stef and Emmett’s linked hands.

  “Also, while we were there, Emmett and I were married.”

  “Oh my God.” That was Penelope. She’d been the one to suggest Stefanie get married to extract herself from the Blake situation. Emmett could tell by her reaction that she hadn’t meant for Stef to take her suggestion to heart...and she sure as hell hadn’t expected Emmett to take Stef up on it.

  “Married.” Chase spoke next, his tone lethal with disapproval. Miriam stood at his side, her lips pursed as if she was deciding how to process the news herself.

  Other than those two comments, no one said a word. Though Zach’s hardened jaw suggested he might have reacted if his two-year-old daughter weren’t sleeping in his arms.

  “We’ve been in denial about our attraction for quite some time,” Stef started.

  “This is about Blake,” Chase said, not buying it for a second. “You did this to distract from the rumors about you and Blake. And Emmett agreed because you railroaded him into it.”

  “I did not!” But to Emmett, his wife’s tone sounded like an admission of guilt.

  “Stefanie.” Pen stepped closer, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean for—”

  “It’s not true,” Stefanie continued lying. “That may seem like a convenient explanation, but Emmett and I are in love. It’s Christmas and we were swept away and—”

  “You were married without your family.” Elle’s voice was both hurt and hard at the same time. “You married Emmett without the approval of your father? Without any of us in attendance?” Her burning gaze hit Emmett next. “We invited you into this family years ago, believing we could trust you, and this is how you repay us?”

  “That’s on me,” Chase said. “I was the one who trusted him to watch over my sister. Which is it, Emmett? Are you in love with her or are you helping her through this Blake debacle to repair the damage done to her reputation and my campaign?”

  Stefanie opened her mouth to speak, but Chase held up a hand to stave her off.

  “Emmett?” Chase pressed, daring him to lie. Which he wouldn’t do.

  “We’re not in love, but we are attracted to each other,” Emmett said. He wouldn’t lie to this family. And he wouldn’t lie to Stefanie. “The marriage works on both fronts. We can explore our attraction, and Blake no longer has a leg to stand on.”

  Rider was a wall of displeasure, his face creased, his martini glass empty. He glared at Emmett for a long beat before jerking his eyes to his daughter.

  “How long are you planning to carry on with this farce?” Rider asked her.

  “It’s not a farce, Daddy. We’re really married. I have the license in the car. I have photos. I’m sharing them on social media later. I wanted to tell you all in person.” She let go of Emmett’s hand to pull out her phone. She handed it to Penelope, who swiped through the pictures while Zach and Chase looked over her shoulder.

  “You continue to embroil this family in scandal,” Elle said, her chin trembling with anger. “First you slept with Chase’s opponent, and then you marry Emmett without so much as one second’s notice to us? And what’s with your running off to feed the poor?”

  How Elle had said that and made it sound like Stef had run off to join an escort service Emmett couldn’t understand.

  “It’s a noble cause,” Stef said. “Some families can’t afford presents or a family dinner. I was able to provide a filling meal, a beautiful venue and wrapped gifts for their children.”

  “Did you vet these people? What if they were addicted to drugs or alcohol? What if they were lying or simply overbudgeted themselves?”

  “They were families in need of kindness during a difficult holiday season,” Emmett said, unable to keep silent any longer. It was as close as he had ever come to snapping at the matriarch of the Ferguson clan. “Your daughter has a beautiful, giving heart. I saw the tears in the eyes of parents in attendance. She provided a service they needed badly.”

  He glanced down to see his wife’s brows bent with gratitude. She stepped closer and he wrapped a protective arm around her while he spoke.

  “Not everyone has the luxury of silver spoons,” he continued. “It’s a testament to Stefanie’s character—and yours—that she would think of people who don’t have what she’s always had. Your daughter’s also a grown woman and you should respect her choices, even if you don’t approve of our marriage.”

  Or me, he mentally added.

  Elle had probably pictured her daughter marrying someone well-bred and brought up in the same kind of luxury as Stef was accustomed. Not a man who was an underling to her eldest son.

  “I know what I’m doing.” Stefanie rested her hand on Emmett’s waist as she snuggled closer to him. “Emmett wasn’t railroaded.” She sent a scathing glare over her shoulder at Chase. Next, she pegged Pen with a gaze, though it was a softer one than the one she reserved for her brother. “And your suggestion may have planted the seed, but it was my idea to propose to Emmett. I know he’d never hurt me. And our attraction is real.”
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br />   Zach’s mouth turned down like he’d tasted sour milk.

  “You married some random woman in Vegas and told no one,” Stefanie pointed out to him. “And then you two—” her gesture included both Pen and Zach “—pretended to be engaged when you weren’t.” She went after Chase next. “And you and Miriam were splashed all over the Dallas Duchess blog before any of us knew you were reunited.”

  She let go of Emmett to stand in the circle of her family and address them.

  “I’m my own person, like Zach. Like Chase. Like Emmett. Just because I’m your youngest child,” she said, spinning to peg her father with a stern glare, “doesn’t mean I’m incapable of making decisions without your approval.”

  She took her parents’ hands with her own. “I love you both, but this had nothing to do with you.”

  “Marriage is about love,” Elle argued. “Not arrangement.”

  Penelope regarded her shoes. Zach even managed to look sheepish.

  “I think it’s wonderful.” Every head snapped around to Miriam, who’d linked her arm around Chase’s. The mayor looked like an emotionless Easter Island statue, but at least he wasn’t fuming any longer.

  “And married on Christmas?” Miriam smiled. “It’s romantic. This calls for a celebration.”

  Stef smiled back at her future sister-in-law and mouthed the words thank you.

  “Sometimes things happen out of order and that’s okay. That’s life.” Miriam shrugged before peering up at Chase. “Right, honey?”

  Then and only then did Chase’s rock-hard facade chip. He gazed down at his fiancée both tenderly and lovingly. “Right.”

  Stef faced Zach and Pen next. “Right?”

  Zach, his daughter a physical reminder that things definitely had happened out of order for Penelope and him, managed a reluctant “Right.”

  “Okay then. Now that we have that out of the way, let’s eat.”

  Stefanie took Emmett’s hand and pulled him toward the dining room. He followed, feeling the entire Ferguson clan’s eyes on his back.

  Fourteen

  The silence at the dinner table was deafening and would lead to a gift exchange that would likely be less merry and bright than it was awkward and stilted.

  But Stefanie refused to shoulder the woe of “ruining Christmas.” She’d meant what she said about being her own person—about making her own decisions.

  She was certain she’d won over Penelope and Miriam, and Zach had seemed less concerned when he’d learned his wife was indirectly responsible.

  Chase was another matter.

  Stef had always been closest with her oldest brother. She’d been gung ho about her plan originally, but sitting across from him had her doubting herself a little.

  The place cards had been rearranged to seat Emmett next to Stefanie per her mother’s request—the woman was nothing if not formal. A husband and wife always sit together, she’d declared primly.

  “Will you change your name?” Pen asked.

  “No need for that,” Elle interjected, aghast.

  “No,” Stef answered. She’d rather not agree with her mother, but Elle was right. If Stefanie changed her name legally, she’d only have to change it back.

  To her left, Emmett dug into his dinner, uninterested, or unwilling, to participate in this conversation.

  “You should.” Pen spooned a bite of food into Olivia’s mouth.

  “Hyphenating is popular. It’s what I’m planning on doing,” said Miriam.

  “Mimi.” That was Chase, who sounded equal parts shocked and perturbed.

  Miriam patted his arm and promised they’d discuss it later.

  “When I announce your marriage to family and friends, I’ll simply explain you don’t have the same last name as your husband.” Elle hadn’t touched her dinner, but instead lifted her martini glass. “It’s a modern marriage, after all.”

  “She’s not a Keaton,” Emmett said. “She’s nothing like a Keaton.”

  “She’s a Keaton now,” Rider boomed, startling the table into silence. “You took my daughter’s hand. You won’t shirk your responsibilities as her husband. No matter what you believed when you said ‘I do,’ you said it. You will honor it.”

  Adrenaline prickled her fingers as Stef watched the stare down between her father and her husband. Emmett’s jaw was granite, and her father’s eyes two lumps of black coal. They broke their staring contest when Emmett spoke.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Will you move in together?” Pen asked. Stef could practically hear the gears turning about how to spin this announcement to the public. “Your place or his?”

  “Mine,” Emmett and Stefanie answered simultaneously.

  “I’m not moving into your apartment,” he stated.

  “I have everything I need at my apartment,” Stef said. “Your belongings fit into a gym bag. Plus, my home is decorated and my Christmas tree is up and my kitchen is stocked. It makes more sense to live there.”

  “Why don’t you try staying with Emmett tonight? You might like it there,” Pen suggested. Stef knew her sister-in-law was only being practical, and possibly trying to end the argument before it started, but Rider and Chase both shifted in their seats, uncomfortable with the idea of Stef going home with Emmett, whether they were married or not.

  “I have an idea,” Stefanie announced. “Why don’t we table this discussion for, oh, eternity? And then we can eat Christmas dinner and open gifts in peace.”

  * * *

  “What is it about family that is particularly exhausting over the holidays?” Stefanie asked rhetorically as she sagged in the passenger seat of Emmett’s SUV. Realizing belatedly that he didn’t have a family to deal with over the holidays, she added, “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be.” He drove in silence, the dashboard’s blue lights glowing against his firm mouth. “I understand.”

  After a gap of silence, she asked, “Do you feel like I roped you into marrying me?”

  “Yes.”

  She winced.

  “And I’d do it again.” He grasped her hand, giving it a brief squeeze before returning his palm to the steering wheel. “We have something here. It might not be till death do us part, but it’s something.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that so instead she said, “It was kind of you to buy for me.”

  “I buy for you every year.”

  “Yes, but this year felt...weirder.” He’d given her tickets to the fanciest New Year’s Eve ball in Dallas, and she had no idea how he’d scored them. Even as Dallas’s youngest female billionaire, she hadn’t yet managed a coveted invite. “How’d you land two tickets to Sonia Osborne’s Sparkle & Shine gala? I’ve wanted to go for years.”

  “I know.” Those two words were the most touching of the evening.

  Who knew Emmett had paid attention to what she wanted or cared about?

  He turned into a complex with modern, cozy town houses. Gray siding, white windowsills, charcoal-black roofs. When he turned right onto a street charmingly named Lamplight, she noticed Christmas lights strung on every house but one. And that was the driveway he pulled into and waited patiently for the garage door to raise.

  The garage was tidy and organized. One set of metal shelves stood on the right side by an entry door, and on it were rows of black milk crates where he stashed his garage-wares.

  “This is it.” He shut off the engine. “I’ll grab the bags. Go on in.”

  Since it was cold outside and he offered, she let him do his husbandly duty and entered in through the kitchen. The light was already on, so no there was need to find the switch.

  The interior was as manly as the man she’d married with its dark floors, polished wood, a white ceiling striped with thick exposed beams. Edison lights dangled over a stainless steel countertop, flanked by black cabinetry. She
stepped down three stairs that led to a sunken room and flipped on one switch, then another, illuminating a wide-open living room and tall windows, leading to a slatted staircase and a second floor.

  If not for the warm lights, Emmett’s brown-and-gray town house would closely resemble a nuclear bunker.

  “He’s all set up in the—oh... Hello.”

  Stefanie spun around to face the stairs and met eyes with a tall, curvy brunette. Her medium-length hair was straight and sassy, her breasts bursting from a plum-colored V-neck sweater. Her heeled boots and tight leather leggings made her legs look ten miles long and her wide mouth was painted with berry-colored lipstick. Each detail became more apparent as she glided down the steps and into the living room.

  “I was expecting Emmett,” the beautiful Amazon purred. “I’m Sunday.”

  Stefanie blinked, not understanding...well, much of anything at the moment.

  She folded her arms, unsure who this strange woman was or why she was in Emmett’s house. She didn’t recall a tale about him having a sister but found herself silently hoping for a pop-up sibling at the moment.

  “And you are?” the other woman asked.

  “My wife.” Emmett joined them and looped his arm around Stefanie’s back. “Stefanie Ferguson, this is Sunday Webber.”

  “Wife. Wow.” A sharp glint lit Sunday’s brown eyes. She was surprised, and not in an oh-I’m-so-happy-for-you way.

  “And Sunday is your...” Stef started.

  “Friend,” the other woman supplied, her smile snapping into place. She then addressed Emmett, which Stefanie didn’t like at all. “Oscar’s set up in your spare bedroom. Litter box, food and a few toys. He’s grouchy from having to travel, but he’ll come out eventually.” She waved a hand. “You know what he’s like.”

  Stef didn’t like the familiarity in that statement, either. Or the fact that his “friend” Sunday had a key. At least the mention of a litter box stalled any assumption that there was a child named Oscar upstairs.