The Billionaire X-MAS Wonder: A Billionaire Christmal Novel

by Sarah J. Brooks

  “Why’d you call?” she ignored her guardian’s jibe.

  “Have you changed your mind?” Florine asked.

  Zoe narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out about what she was supposed to change her mind. “About what?”

  “The shipping company.”

  “Why?”

  “I need you back in NY first thing in the morning. I booked your flight; the plane leaves in a couple of hours.”

  All Zoe heard were the words morning and couple of hours. The words didn’t make sense. How was it possible that two hours and morning were even in the same sentence?

  “I don’t understand. What do you mean, couple of hours?”

  “Your flight leaves at one thirty.”

  The time registered in her mind. “One thirty tomorrow. Okay, g’night.”

  “Zoe!” Florine’s voice raised a few decibels, almost deafening her.

  “Whaaaat?” she dragged out.

  “Your flight leaves in exactly two hours and forty-five minutes!”

  “What? Why are you doing this to me? Did you find out about ...?” she checked her comment before she spilled.

  “What have you done?” Florine’s voice became stern.

  “Nothing. Why am I needed back in NYC?”

  “I signed you for a commercial. It’s a small thing, but the client took one look at your legs and said that’s the girl.”

  Zoe sat up in the bed, now alert. “My legs?”

  “Yes, it’s a swimsuit gig, for a Caribbean vacation resort. Getting away from the cold to sunny Barbados … or something to that effect.”

  “Swimsuit, in the winter?”

  “Yes, don’t you know with the weather prediction for the next couple of months people will want to go where the sun shines all the time?”

  “So I’ll be going to Barbados then,” she surmised, aloud.

  “No,” Florine was quick to answer. “They’ll shoot you with a backdrop and splice you into the video. It won’t be more than a couple of hours.”

  “Alright,” she begrudgingly replied. “Only because I do have great legs.”

  “Ha-ha.” Florine laughed. “That means you haven’t changed your mind about the shipping gig?”

  “Yes,” she replied. I don’t want to work with a prick was what she really thought.

  “I’ll call him tomorrow.”

  “Not too early, maybe in the evening?”

  Florine was silent a moment. “What’s going on? Did something happen? Tell me now, or I’ll call this guy right away.”

  “Promise you won’t get mad?”

  “Okay, tell me.”

  “The guy took one look at me and told me I wasn’t his type. All the girls there were blondes with big breasts. I could see the way his eyes peeled off their clothes. I felt insignificant when he raked his eyes over me and smirked. I wanted to wipe …” she paused, taking a deep breath. “I just wanted him to sweat a little.”

  “Hmm, then let him sweat a lot. I’ll call him after the holidays,” Florine’s voice became hard. “How dare he reject you? But that means he had no idea it was you.”

  “Yep, I think he was expecting some blonde bimbo.”

  “Good. You get here and do the commercial. Let Matheson wait for my call. He didn’t choose any of those girls you saw there. Apparently, they weren’t intelligent enough.”

  Zoe grinned. “I knew it. I wish I could see his face when you tell him that his shipping company wasn’t good enough.”

  “Ha-ha, how do you talk me into these shenanigans?” Florine bemoaned.

  “Because you love me?”

  “Shut up,” Florine playfully scolded. “You and I need to have a serious talk when you get here. I know what you’ve been up to.”

  “Oh no, she knows,” Zoe groaned, moving the phone away from her ear. “I haven’t been up to anything,” she said loudly. “Oh, I’m losing connection. Can you hear me?”

  “Zoe, I know you can hear me,” Florine said. “Zoe?”

  “Florine … Florine?” she shouted, pretending there was a bad connection. She cut the call and dropped the phone beside her on the bed.

  “That was close!” Zoe slumped back onto the pillows. Talking to Florine brought back Gael’s face to her thoughts. His strong features imprinted in her mind, with his full fleshy lips and penetrating eyes. The more she tried to push him away, the more she felt he was in the room, scrutinizing her and deciding she wasn’t good enough.

  “Go to hell, Gael Matheson!” she flipped over face down on the bed and closed her eyes, but his face was still there. “ARGH!” with her fists folded tightly, she pounded the pillow, pretending it was his face.

  After Florine hung up from speaking with Zoe, she dialed another number and waited for the line to open. It was imperative that she took care of this business before it got her daughter into any trouble.

  Zoe was not her birth child, but that was just a technicality. In all actuality, the bond they shared was of mother and daughter. Not having kids of her own had been difficult, and when she met Zoe, her heart opened up in such a way that she was sure God sent her a miracle.

  Therefore, she had to do everything possible, not only for her daughter but one of the most sought-after models in the industry. Zoe was a high-class model, employed only by the most elite clients. She needed to protect her reputation from some grubby two-bit hustler.

  “Hello?” The line finally opened, and a male answered.

  “Tony, it’s Florine Anderson, Zoe’s mom,” she said cheerily while putting the phone on record mode.

  “Yes ma’am, what can I do for you?”

  She cleared her throat. “No Tony, it’s what I can do for you.”

  “What do you mean, Miss Florine?”

  “How much?” The silence on the line made her think he’d hung up. “Are you listening?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “This is your one chance. Name your price now or suffer the consequences,” she instructed.

  She could hear him swallow. “F-f-fifty grand,” he managed to get out.

  “Good, now get that damn video and those photos off the internet ASAP!” she charged. “I’ll get you the money when I see some action.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” was his quiet reply.

  ‘And if you go anywhere near Zoe again, prepare to sleep with the fishes,” she threatened.

  “Y-y-y-yes m-m-a’am,” Tony babbled on the line.

  Florine could picture him trembling as he gripped the phone. He probably just wet his pants when she threatened him. She would wait to see if he removed the offensive footage he had of Zoe before Sheer Fusion got wind of it. According to the contract, Zoe must not be caught doing anything inappropriate for the next six months while her photos were being used in their upcoming issues.

  Florine hung the phone. The youth was a fool, and she wanted to crack his skull. She knew he was the one who also started posting those fake photos with Zoe’s face on some random naked girl, doing God knows what. What was he trying to do, ruin her?

  “Grrr,” she growled, her brown eyes hardening just thinking about the man.

  Now that was settled, she could concentrate on getting Zoe that commercial contract and maybe a part in a drama soon.

  1:35 AM, Tuesday, December 24.

  All the seats were taken. Zoe stood in the middle of the airport lobby, scanning the crowded room through her Bulgari sunglasses. Not getting any sleep after her conversation with Florine, her eyes were puffy and red. She could cover most things with makeup, but red-eye wasn’t one of them.

  Luckily for her, the flight was delayed, or she would have missed it by four minutes. She turned, trying to look for somewhere she could comfortably stash herself until they called the passengers to board.

  She was about to give up when she saw the seat; a travel bag occupied it. Beside the seat was a suit. Her eyes dropped to the Italian leather shoes, then traveled up the legs of dark gray pants. Legs were apart, his thighs bulging, stretching the f
abric across the muscles beneath. She continued her perusal, resting her eyes on his crotch where there was a big lump. Her eyes lingered there a few seconds as a spot of heat burned her cheeks.

  With a giggle, she lifted her eyes, but the rest of him was obscured by a newspaper. In any case, she needed the seat, and his belongings were on it. Pulling her luggage, she bore down on her prey.

  When she was directly in front of him, she stopped, tapping her three-inch black boot. As if sensing her, the paper lowered slowly; long, strong fingers folded it before Persian blue eyes made contact with hers. Her breath caught as she flushed. The Devil himself was staring at her with one beautifully cocked brow.

  “Can I help you?” he drawled in his rich baritone voice.

  “I need the seat,” she said, having no clue why her heart was doing backflips.

  It was obvious Gael did not recognize her. How could he when his eyes were now cruising her much like he’d done before. However, this time, those blue pools lingered a tad longer on her 34C cup breasts underneath the medium T-shirt she now wore. His eyes cruised the length of her, taking in her long skinny jeans-clad legs, her slightly curved hips and back to her flat stomach. The shade of his eyes darkened just a little as they returned to her breasts.

  After getting his fill, he lifted his eyes to her face. For a moment, he seemed to bore through her glasses with his stare. Then he got a glimpse of the rainbow hair, and the arrogant bastard waved her away.

  “Move along,” he dismissed her.

  “I said I need the seat; you can’t have your luggage on the seat while someone needs it.”

  He raised his eyes, and she locked his gaze. “There are other seats,” he casually said.

  “No, there aren’t. Look around; the place is full.”

  “I don’t want my bag touching the ground,” he argued.

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “What kind of a man are you? A woman is asking for the seat, and you’re more concerned about your bags.”

  “Look, it won’t be long before the flight is called. Why don’t you take a walk? Leave your luggage; I’ll watch it for you.”

  “I don’t want to take a walk. I want to sit, you jerk!”

  His eyes glinted as his lips tightened. Before Gael could reply, Zoe reached for the handle of his travel bag and pulled it from the seat. As it was about to hit the floor, he grabbed it, returning it to the seat. She did it again, and several pairs of eyes turned their way.

  “See those people?” She jutted her chin to the crowd. “They all think you’re a jerk.”

  She grabbed the bag again, and before he could take it from her, she slid into the seat, placing the offending bag in her lap.

  “See that wasn’t so hard. Your bag is not on the floor, and I’m sitting.”

  The urge to drop the bag to the floor was intense, but she took the high road. Her mother had OCD, and she knew what it was like to be afraid of germs. Her mother used to scrub and steam the floors for hours because she believed they were always dirty. That was the only reason she didn’t drop Gael’s bag, because he may have the same problem.

  He stared at her with brows deeply creased and jaw set. She returned his stare unblinking through her shades for several minutes. He was the first to break the stare down when he pulled his cell phone from his left breast pocket and tried to make a call. Apparently, the service was down as he grunted and replaced the phone.

  For about half hour, she sat beside him, pondering on how she could repay him for his rejection of her modeling services. She bit her lips in concentration as she wondered how long before the flight was called. She’d just about decided to forget Gael when the voice came over the airport speakers.

  “Flight 109 to Buffalo. Calling all passengers to gate #2,” the female voice came over the speakers.

  Gael snatched the straps of his bag and yanked it from her lap. He stood, stared down at her before stomping toward the departure gate. With an amused grin, she made the same route, pulling her own luggage behind her.

  She watched him from behind, unwittingly admiring his suited figure. No one could deny how gorgeous the man was, but that’s what made him even more of a jackass. He knew just how good looking he was, and that’s why he was an eel. He felt that his charms would excuse his reprehensible behavior.

  Without thinking it through clearly, Zoe ran, closing the few meters that separated them. As they reached the departure gate, she rushed before him, handing in her ID and ticket. As the customs officer handed back her items, she turned, sticking out her tongue at an obviously annoyed Gael.

  With a giggle, she rushed ahead as she could feel his eyes burning angrily into her back. She knew it was childish, but this was perhaps the last time she would see him. At least, she’d had a little fun with the hooligan.

  The passengers moved quickly into the plane. Thankfully, she found her window seat four rows from the back. After stuffing her luggage in the overhead compartment, she settled into her seat. By the time she leaned back and buckled up, she knew she would be falling asleep as soon as they took off. Closing her eyes, she smiled as she recalled Gael’s expression earlier.

  The beginnings of a headache presented at her forehead and temples. Along with it was stiffness in her joints. She knew she was getting sick, and she had nothing to take for it while on the plane.

  A snicker from someone hovering over her rudely interrupted her reverie. She peeled off her glasses, turning her face to the perpetrator. With eyes wide, she stared up into the scowl of the man she’d been thinking of.

  “Go away,” she dismissed him, waving him away. “I’m not apologizing.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, missy,” he growled. “I don’t care for apologies from you.”

  “Then why are you standing there?”

  He ignored her, sliding into the seat next to her. In silence, she turned away, donning her shades and closing her eyes once more. Unable to believe her bad luck, she pouted, defiantly protesting the hand that fate dealt her. So, for the next five hours, she’d have to sit near this blockhead. This was not the trip she hoped to have.

  There were a few minutes of low chatter while people settled into their seats. After the safety demonstration, the flight attendants began checking on the passengers to see if they needed anything as the plane began its sojourn to NYC.

  “Is there anything you need?” the voice of an attendant reached her ear.

  Zoe twisted to see a blonde, with boobs that rebelled against her blouse, looking lustily down at Gael. The man’s eyes settled on the woman’s high mounds, and she could see him stripping off the flight attendant’s uniform in the process. A snort escaped her as she turned away and resumed her pretend sleep.

  They spoke in low tones for a while before the woman moved along the aisle. Not long after, she was back. This went on for a while, so much that it began to irritate her.

  “Just get it over with,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Are you speaking to me?” he asked, as the woman left to go attend others.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” she replied, giving him the same words he’d used earlier.

  Gael’s irritation with his seating companion augmented into a raging heat in his belly. Having his flight schedule changed at the last minute made it impossible to fly business class, as there were no seats available. He’d had to settle for economy, and as luck would have it, he got a snarky troublemaker as his neighbor.

  The tension ran along his neck, tightening the muscles in his shoulders. When the redheaded hostess batted her eyes at him, he knew he needed release. Her large breasts pushed tantalizingly against her blouse, beckoning him to take them between his lips.

  How long had it been since he’d sunk into some hot flesh? Two weeks? He’d been so busy that he hadn’t much time to breathe. The stewardess passed by once more, deliberately brushing his arm with her hips. His member pricked up, alerting him that she was ripe for the picking.

  When she reached the end of the aisle, she tur
ned and winked. He glanced over at the girl. Her lips were slightly parted, and he noticed how perfectly formed they were. His eyes lingered on their pink glossiness longer than he cared to admit. He shook his head and turned, peering along the aisle, noticing that most of the passengers were asleep.

  Checking his watch, he noted the time. It was now two forty-nine, almost an hour since take-off. His companion shuffled, and when he looked over, her face was turned to the window. That pleased him. He eased from the seat, making his way down the aisle toward the lavatories.

  As he slipped through the small hatch, someone followed him in. She leaned back on the door, snapping it shut. They sized each other up for a moment before he grabbed one of her breasts, giving it a squeeze. The hostess, whose name tag he didn’t bother to read, groaned.

  “Come to me big daddy,” she crooned, grabbing his tie and pulling him to her.

  She shifted, resting her ass on the mini counter at the small sink. Pulling up her skirt, she parted her legs as Gael closed the couple of inches to wedge himself between.

  No sooner was he between her thighs than she began caressing his crotch. Gael dipped his head, nipping at the nipple that printed through her nylon blouse. There was no time for long lovemaking. All he needed was a quick fuck and done with it.

  Her sickeningly sweet perfume tickled his nose, and he raised his head. While she unbuckled him, he gripped both breasts, rubbing his thumbs across the taut peaks. When she had freed him, she ran a smooth hand along the length of his shaft.

  He dropped a hand from fondling her breast and pulled her skirt higher. Nimbly, perhaps from experience, he parted her panties and brushed a finger across her protruding clitoris. She leaned back, pushing her hips forward as a stifled moan pushed through her pursed lips.

  Gael withdrew his hand, coated with her gooey fluid. Gripping her hips, he pulled her forward, her ass to the extreme edge. With deft movements, he pulled his wallet from his jacket and extracted a condom. Tearing the packet with his teeth, he quickly rolled the rubber onto his large cock. With obvious impatience, she reached between them and guided his thick member into her. Her wet flesh swallowed his cock as he slid in with one smooth move.