The Billionaire's Christmas Cinderella

by Carol Marinelli

  Perhaps he floated through them, Naomi thought, for he was almost too beautiful to be mortal.

  He was more.

  It was the only word she could come up with as she stood in the grand entrance, yet it was an apt one.

  He was a smidge taller than Ethan and his jet-black hair was worn a touch longer, and was currently flecked with snow. And he was more sullen in appearance than his brother had been, with almost accusing black eyes narrowing as they met hers.

  And he was, to Naomi, a whole lot sexier.

  Yes, he was more.

  He made her heart quicken and she was suddenly terribly aware of her night attire and tangle of hair, because he was just so groomed and glossy and more beautiful than anyone she had ever seen.

  ‘I thought not,’ Naomi said by way of greeting.

  And Abe frowned because not only did he have no idea what she meant, he also had no idea who this voluptuous dark-haired beauty, dressed in her nightwear, was.

  Then she walked past him and he watched as she took delivery of a large pizza box and now he better understood her odd greeting.

  No, Abe Devereux was definitely not the pizza delivery man!

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘I’M NAOMI,’ SHE offered by way of introduction as she closed the front door. ‘Merida’s friend and the baby’s nanny.’

  ‘Abe,’ he said, but didn’t elaborate. It was his father’s home after all and he was also in no mood to engage in small talk.

  But she persisted.

  ‘Have you seen her?’ Naomi asked. ‘The baby.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He said no more than that. Abe Devereux did not offer his thoughts or his opinions. There was no ‘Yes, isn’t she gorgeous!’ No ‘I can’t believe I’m an uncle,’ and it was clear to Naomi that he did not want to speak.

  It didn’t offend her.

  Naomi was very used to being the paid staff.

  He removed an elegant grey woollen coat and beneath that was a suit, cut to perfection, enhancing his tall, lean frame.

  Abe glanced briefly around, no doubt, Naomi thought, expecting someone to come and take his coat, but when no one appeared, neither did Naomi hold out her hand. With that lack of a gesture she drew a very important line. She might be staff, but she was Ava’s nanny, and not his maid.

  He tossed the coat over an occasional chair as Naomi opened the lid of her pizza box and peered into it. ‘I’ll say goodnight...’ She was momentarily distracted from his utter, imposing beauty by the sight that greeted her. ‘Just how big is this thing?’ Naomi asked.

  The pizza was massive.

  Seriously so.

  It smelt utterly divine.

  And, she remembered, she was not just the nanny but Merida’s friend, and so she persisted with the conversation when perhaps usually she would not.

  ‘Would you like some?’ she offered, but Abe didn’t even bother to reply so she took her cue and headed up the stairs.

  There were pictures lining the walls of the stunning Devereux family over the years. The two brothers, as babies and then children. Their stunning mother who, Naomi knew, was dead. She wondered if they missed her on a day like today.

  Yes, Naomi often wondered about things like this, especially with not having a family of her own.

  And then she heard his voice.

  ‘I would.’

  She turned on the stairs, a little unsure what he meant. Did Abe Devereux actually want to share in her midnight feast, or had she got things completely wrong and he was about to tell her he would like staff to refrain from wandering at night, or something?

  But, no, she hadn’t got things wrong.

  ‘A slice of pizza sounds good,’ Abe confirmed.

  He himself was surprised that he had taken her up on her offer. And it wasn’t the normality of it that had had him say yes, for it was far from normal—Abe didn’t do pizza. And, more pointedly, a woman in pale pink pyjamas with a big robe on top wasn’t the norm either. Silk or skin was the usual sight that greeted him at this time of night.

  He had just come from the hospital, though not the maternity section for he had visited his brother and wife earlier in the day.

  Instead, he had spent the evening and half the night with his father.

  Jobe had put everything into staying alive for the baby’s birth and visiting the little family today, and Abe had this terrible, awful feeling that now it was done he’d just fade.

  He had sat there, watching his father sleep and the snow floating past the window, and though warm in the hospital room he had felt chilled to the bone.

  They might not be particularly close but Abe admired his father more than anyone in the world.

  Ethan had grown up never knowing what a cruel woman their mother had been.

  Four years older than his brother, Abe had known.

  Elizabeth Devereux’s death when he was nine had come as a shock, but all these years later Abe already grieved for his father.

  Not that he showed it.

  Abe had long since closed off his heart and far from hiding his emotions, he chose not to feel them.

  Yet choice had been unavailable to him tonight.

  ‘Why couldn’t you come to me, Abe?’ his father had asked, when his medication had been given for the night.

  ‘It will sort itself out,’ Abe had said. ‘Khalid is just posturing.’

  ‘I’m not talking about Khalid,’ Jobe had snapped, and then, defeated by the drugs, had closed his eyes to sleep.

  Yet where was the peace? Abe thought, for despite the good news of the day, despite Jobe’s goal to see his grandchild being met, still his face was lined and there was tension visible even in his drug-induced sleep.

  There had been a long moment when his father’s breathing had seemed to cease and he’d called urgently for the nurse.

  It was normal, he’d been told, with so much morphine for respirations to decrease and also, he’d been further told, albeit gently, things slowed down near the end of life.

  But no matter how gently said, it had hit him like a fist to the gut.

  His father was dying.

  Oh, he had known for months, of course he had, but he had fully realised it then. Abe had glimpsed the utter finality of what was to come and, rather than do what instinct told him to and shake his father awake and demand that he not die, Abe had held it in and headed out into the snowy night.

  He had sent his driver home ages ago, and had stood for a moment looking up at the snow falling so quietly from the sky.

  Instead of calling for his driver, or even hailing a cab, he had crossed the wide street and headed over to Central Park.

  There he had cleared snow from a bench and sat by the reservoir, too numb, and grateful for that fact, to feel the cold.

  Here had been the park of his childhood, though it had never been a playground.

  Abe had never played.

  Instead, on the occasional times his mother would take them, unaccompanied by a nanny, it would be he who would look out for Ethan, making sure he didn’t get too close to the water.

  And that had been on a good day.

  The park closed at one a.m. and, rather than being locked in for the night, Abe had stood with no intention of heading home.

  There were plenty he could call upon for the usual balm of sex. As disengaged as he was with his lovers, Abe did generally at least manage some conversation, but even that brief overture before the mind-numbing act felt like too much effort tonight.

  And so he had walked from the park to his father’s residence, which was far closer to the hospital than his Greenwich Village home. He had decided to sleep there tonight.

  Just in case.

  And now, for reasons he didn’t care to examine, conversation felt welcome.

  Necessary even.

/>   He walked through to the drawing room and she, Naomi, Merida’s friend, followed him in and took a seat on the pale blue sofa as he lit the fire that had been made up and then checked his phone.

  Again, just in case.

  ‘The snow’s getting heavy,’ he said. ‘I thought it might be wise to stay nearer to the hospital tonight.’

  ‘How is your father?’

  ‘Today took a lot out of him. Are you a nurse?’ he asked, because he had no real idea of the qualifications required to be a nanny. Perhaps that was why he had pursued conversation, Abe thought—so that he could pick her brains.

  But she shook her head.

  ‘No,’ Naomi said. ‘I’d always wanted to be a paediatric nurse but...’ She gave an uncomfortable shrug. ‘It didn’t work out.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I didn’t do too well at school.’

  She opened up the box again and tore off one of the large slices but the topping slid off as she attempted to raise it to her mouth. ‘How on earth do you eat this?’

  ‘Not like that,’ he said, and he showed her how to fold the huge triangle.

  ‘I haven’t had pizza from a box in years...’ Abe mused as he took his slice. ‘Or rather decades. Jobe used to take Ethan and me over to Brooklyn when we were small. We’d sit on the pier...’ His voice trailed off and he was incredibly grateful that she didn’t fill the silence that followed so he could just sit and hold the memory for a moment as they ate quietly. ‘This pizza’s good,’ he commented.

  ‘It’s better than good, it’s incredible.’ And made more so when he went and poured two generous drinks from a decanter.

  ‘Cognac?’ he offered.

  She had never tasted it before and, given for once she wasn’t working, Naomi took the glass when he handed it to her.

  ‘Wow,’ she said, because it burnt as it went down. ‘I doubt I’ll have much trouble getting back to sleep after that.’

  ‘That’s the aim,’ Abe said. ‘You can rely on my father to have the good stuff on tap.’

  ‘What did you think of the baby?’ Naomi asked as he sat down. Not on the sofa but on the floor, leaning against it.

  ‘It’s very loud,’ Abe said, and she laughed.

  ‘She’s gorgeous. What are you getting her as a gift?’

  ‘Already done.’ Abe yawned before continuing. ‘My PA dealt with it and got her some silver teddy.’

  ‘I did all the shopping before I came,’ Naomi said, ‘though now I know it’s a girl I’m sure there’ll be more. Are you excited to be an uncle?’

  He raised his eyes, somewhat disarmed by her question.

  Abe really hadn’t given being an uncle much thought. Since he’d heard that his brother had got Merida pregnant it had been the legalities that he’d focussed on—making sure the baby was a US citizen and ensuring Merida couldn’t get her hands on any more of the Devereux fortune than the baby assured her.

  Only, lately, Merida seemed less and less like the woman Abe had been so certain she was.

  In fact, Ethan looked happy.

  He didn’t say any of that, of course.

  But if you are going to do pizza by the fire on a snowy December night, you do need to do your share of talking, and so he asked her a question. ‘Do you have any nieces or nephews?’

  ‘No.’ Naomi shook her head and then let out a dreamy sigh. ‘I actually can’t think of anything nicer than to be an aunt.’

  ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters who might one day oblige you?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘So you’re an only child?’ he casually assumed, and then watched as for the first time colour came to her pale cheeks.

  ‘I don’t have any family.’

  He saw the slight tremble of her fingers as she put down the crust of her pizza.

  ‘None?’ he checked.

  ‘I count Merida as family,’ she admitted, ‘but, no.’

  Yes, she and Merida were close, but Naomi was very aware that though they were best friends, Merida was far more of Naomi’s world than the other way around.

  And that said nothing against Merida. But she had parents, albeit awful ones, and a half-brother and half-sister, and cousins and grandparents.

  Naomi had...

  Merida.

  Her birth mother had wanted nothing whatsoever to do with her and Naomi had no clue who her father was. There had been a foster mum when she’d been a teenager that had been amazing but she’d taken a well-earned retirement in Spain, though they still corresponded. And there was another foster family that she still sent a Christmas card to.

  And of course, there were friends she had made along life’s way, but there was no family.

  None.

  Zip.

  ‘My mother gave me up for adoption,’ Naomi said, ‘but it never happened.’

  She tensed as she awaited the inevitable ‘Why?’ that even virtual strangers felt compelled to ask.

  It just made her feel worse.

  There were millions of families who wanted babies, surely?

  Or, ‘What about your grandparents, didn’t they want you?’

  It was hell having to explain that, no, her mother hadn’t fully relinquished her rights for a few years, which had held Naomi in the foster system. And, no, her grandparents hadn’t wanted to clear up their daughter’s mess.

  And that, no, there would be no tender reunion between mother and daughter.

  At the age of eighteen Naomi had tried.

  But her mother had remarried and wanted no reminder of her rebellious past.

  Thankfully, though, Abe didn’t ask.

  Instead, he watched her pinched face and two lines deepen between her dark blue eyes like a castle gate drawing up in defence. He thought of his own loud, brash family and the dramas and fights at times. He even thought back to his mother, and while there were no warm memories there, still there was history.

  He couldn’t fathom having no one.

  Yet he did not pry.

  And she seemed incredibly grateful for that.

  He watched as she visibly shook off dark thoughts and pushed out a smile.

  ‘So what sort of an uncle do you want to be?’ Naomi asked.

  Given what she’d just told him, he didn’t dust off the notion, instead he told her the truth. ‘I really haven’t given it much thought.’ Now he did. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I can’t imagine that she’d want for anything...’ He’d made very sure of that. But as he’d combed through the contract and ensured decent chunks of access for his brother, there had been no thought of where he himself might fit in.

  ‘I’d like to be...’ Who examined it? Abe wondered. Who actually gave consideration to the type of uncle they wanted to be?

  She had made him do just that.

  He could hear the spit and crackle of the fire as he gazed into it. Maybe he was feeling maudlin. It would be his father’s funeral soon after all, but on this cold December night, the most guarded and closed off of all the Devereuxes paused a while and thought of the uncle he would like to be.

  ‘I could take her for pizza now and then,’ he said.

  ‘And show her how to eat it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, but then shook his head. ‘I can’t think of anything else.’

  ‘That’s plenty to be going on with.’ Naomi smiled and when he tore off another slice, it seemed easier, rather than have him hand it to her, to join him on the floor. It simply did. And they sat side by side and spoke, not a lot but enough.

  ‘So,’ he asked, ‘you’re going to be looking after Ava?’

  ‘For a little while.’ She saw his frown. ‘I’m a maternity nanny.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I generally stay between six and eight weeks with a new family before the permanen
t nanny takes over. I try to allocate four weeks between jobs, but it never really works out. Babies come early, as we saw today.’

  ‘Do you go home between jobs?’

  ‘No, I generally have a holiday. Sometimes if there’s a decent gap I might house-sit.’

  ‘Where’s home?’

  ‘The next job.’

  ‘So you’re a nomadic nanny.’

  ‘I guess.’ That made her laugh, she’d never really thought of describing it like that. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you only look after newborns?’

  She nodded.

  ‘That sounds like constant hard work.’

  ‘Oh, it is,’ Naomi agreed. ‘But I completely love it.’

  Or she had.

  Naomi didn’t share that with him, of course. She didn’t tell him that she was tired in a way she’d never been before. Not just from lack of sleep but from the constant motion of her lifestyle.

  There was one slice of pizza left and both their hands reached for it at the same time.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Abe said.

  ‘No, we’ll share it.’

  And when he tore it and there was one half a bit bigger, instead of not noticing, she looked at him until he tore a piece off the bigger half. ‘That’s fair now,’ Abe said.

  ‘Hmm.’

  She was so full it shouldn’t matter, but she had never, ever tasted something so delicious, Naomi thought. Or was it the open fire keeping them warm as the snow fluttered outside the window, or was it adult company in the middle of the night that made it all so nice?

  ‘Do you ever have,’ Abe asked, ‘er, issues with the fathers?’

  ‘Gosh no.’ Naomi laughed. ‘I dress like this for work. I don’t think the mothers have anything to worry about.’

  He begged to differ.

  Scantily dressed Naomi wasn’t, but for Ethan there was no doubting her sensuality. It wasn’t just her curves or the very full mouth or ripple of dark hair and how it fell in her eyes, it was more subtle than that. Little things, like the way she covered herself when her robe gaped, and how she closed her eyes after each and every sip of cognac as she held it on her tongue for a moment, and the lick of her lips when she’d first glimpsed the pizza.

  Yet, he mused, the mothers wouldn’t have anything to worry about.