The Billionaire X-MAS Wonder: A Billionaire Christmal Novel

by Sarah J. Brooks

  The service had slowed to a snail’s pace due to high volumes of traffic. He was also certain that the power had gone out a few times, and that was why they were unable to reach anyone while at the airport.

  He returned to the living room with the intention of trying to reach the outside world. After a few tries, he was finally able to reach Beth. Apparently, the signal was still weak due to the high traffic, which usually happens during snowy weather as more people resorted to using the cellular service. The landlines being down only left the cellular networks for communication.

  “Hello?” Beth answered after a few rings.

  “Beth?”

  “Mr. Matheson, how are you?”

  “I’m fine. Did that woman call you about the girl?”

  “No,” she said. “Do you think she left because something happened?”

  “What do you mean? Like one of the other girls said something? I doubt that. I heard she was a class above the rest.”

  “I think she might have changed her mind,” she told him. “I confirmed that she did arrive, signing her signature at the front desk like all the others.”

  Then she must have decided that this job wasn’t suited to her, he surmised. “That so?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied.

  A small pain sliced through him at that. He had been hoping the girl would be the right fit, what with her credentials and all. She had come and not shown herself. So she did have some superiority issues. He’d been right; however, she should have had the guts to at least tell him to his face she didn’t like the job.

  “Try convincing them,” he found himself saying. “When you get the chance, call Miss Anderson. Convince her to let that girl contact me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  At that moment, his unicorn walked into the room wearing a sweater, jeans, and her hair … different. For a while, he lost his train of thought as he stared at her dark brown hair without the piece hiding half her face. The colors were gone, and her short hair was brushed back away from her face.

  “Sir?” Beth’s voice brought him back to the moment.

  “Yes,” he said, keeping his eyes on her as she sat on the sofa. She watched him as he continued his conversation. “Yes. Make sure you convince Miss Anderson, and if you can’t, let me know so I can go meet her in person before I get back to Santa Cruz.”

  “Yes, sir. Will that be all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Enjoy your Christmas sir,” she replied cheerfully.

  He’d all but forgotten that it was Christmas. Since he left home at the age of fifteen, he hadn’t really celebrated any kind of holiday. Therefore, it took some effort to keep in mind that it was actually Christmas.

  “You too,” he returned. “See you in a few days,” he added before signing off.

  “Is everything okay?” he heard her ask.

  His eyes cruised her new look. He must admit he liked this better, but he couldn’t very well call her unicorn now, could he? Though she looked somewhat normal now, he missed the rainbow hair. It had given him something to tease her about. Now, there was nothing.

  “What happened to your hair?”

  She shrugged. “I washed it. You didn’t really think I’d walk around with a permanent rainbow on my head?” she replied.

  “Who knows? You seemed like the kind,” he replied, amusement in his voice.

  Taking the armchair opposite her, he could not help noticing how mature she now looked without all that hair color.

  “This is much better.” The words easily rolled off his tongue.

  Her eyes flew to his, widening. “You can cut out the Mr. Nice Guy routine. I promise not to bother you. I’ll just sit here and wait for your father to return. Carry on whatever you were doing.”

  “I was serious about you looking better,” he said.

  “Yeah, right,” she snickered.

  “I was also serious about us getting along,” he added, his tone a low drawl.

  They eyed each other for a few seconds before she conceded. “Okay, I’ll keep my promise of a truce.”

  “Now, don’t you think it’s time you tell me your name?”

  She chortled. “Are you still wondering if and where we met?”

  “Not at all. I don’t think we met; I would have remembered. I’m not that far gone to forget a pretty face.”

  The moment he said it, he felt heat crawl all over his chest and neck. He was never a bashful fellow; otherwise, he’d be blushing right about then.

  Throwing her head back against the cushions, she laughed. Holding her tummy, she let out a joyous sound that crackled through the silence. Her laugh was as silken as her voice.

  “Pretty face?”

  The heat now burned his cheek, and he knew he was actually blushing. He never blushed, and now he knew what embarrassment felt like. He shifted in the seat.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to reign in her amusement. “I was just surprised you even thought I was a woman.”

  “Can we stop this constant bickering and start over?” He stood and walked over to her, holding his hand out. “Hello, I’m Gael Matheson.”

  Zoe laughed not only because she was amused but to hide the fact that her heart had paused for a second before it took off like a runaway train. Now he wanted to start over, and she wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Starting over would mean she’d have to give him a second chance.

  Earlier, it was her plan to do that, but on her terms. She knew he was playing Mr. Charming to get to her. Now the game had changed, and she needed to regroup. What if he remembered her name as the girl he rejected? Chances were he didn’t, but she needed to be certain.

  Then there was the telephone conversation she walked in on. He was still hoping she’d changed her mind. A light bulb went off. What if she showed him what a real spokesperson would do for his company?

  She stood, placing her hand in his. “Zoe Archer, pleased to meet you.”

  “Zoe,” he said her name easily. She studied his face for any signs of recognition. Nothing happened. “I like it.”

  His large hand enveloped hers warmly, sending some of his body heat sprinting up her arm. She allowed the hand to remain, liking the sensations from his touch.

  “Well, Zoe, what do you do?”

  The question froze her in place. For want of breathing space to think of something, she pulled her hand from his and moved to the mantle to absorb some of the warmth from the fire.

  “I’m between jobs at the moment,” she replied, biting her bottom lip. It wasn’t a complete lie; she was between jobs, though by profession she was a model. “Tell me about your company.”

  Haltingly, he began telling her he was in NY to acquire a small business, but the more he spoke about the company, the more relaxed he became. She waited patiently for him to tell her that he was seeking a spokes-model, but he didn’t. He did say he was looking to take his company international.

  Based on her research, she knew it was doing well for a company that never did much advertising. Now that he was thinking of going international, a spokesperson would be the ideal representation.

  “You know what you need?” she asked.

  “Tell me,” he said, coming to stand by her near the fireplace.

  “You need someone who is able to market your business in a way that will crush your competitors. What you need is someone to travel to the countries you want to set up office and represent your business to their public.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” he agreed, now animated.

  “What do they call it … a public relations officer?”

  “Spokesperson?” he added.

  Snapping her fingers, she replied gleefully, “Yes. That’s what you need. He or she would learn the ins and outs of the company so that they can represent you accordingly. You need someone, perhaps a man who just graduated college and is eager for work.”

  Zoe mentally patted herself on that last statement. Suggesting a man was genius as she knew Gael would never bu
y it. It also suggested to him that she was not doing this as a way to get him to hire her.

  “Why a male?” he asked.

  Good question, she thought. “Well, men are strong, and actually,” she paused, a deliberate ploy for her answer. “This is a secret, but … women are so much more expensive. Guys don’t need much to travel you know.”

  His interest was piqued, or he was amused. Either way, she had him where she wanted him, interested in what she had to say.

  “Women need to carry cosmetics, several pairs of shoes, several outfits to change, and perhaps an entourage, who knows. They can be such divas. Hiring a man could save you some money.”

  “You don’t seem like a diva to me,” he suggested.

  Bingo! “Well, I‘m no typical woman. I’m different, self-sufficient and know how to survive in a minimalist way.”

  He smiled, a glint appearing in his eyes. “You keep surprising me, Zoe Archer.” His voice dropped as he studied her face.

  She tried not to look into those eyes, but there it was again. They trapped her, and for about thirty seconds, she was unable to look away. Somehow, during the conversation, they’d moved closer together, causing an energy field to open up. When he reached up his hand and touched his fingers to her cheek, she could do nothing but intake a sharp breath.

  Her mind went blank as her skin sizzled from his touch. His eyes deepened in shade, and then he dropped his hand. As if realizing that something was happening, Gael strolled to a draped window that would have overlooked a garden. The thick wine red drapes obscured the view, but he stood with his back to her nonetheless.

  Absently, her hand caressed the spot on her cheek that still burned while the pulse at her throat gyrated to its own rhythm. Though they were in the midst of one of the coldest winters, her skin flushed with heat that she felt a trickle of sweat run down her back. She shuddered as it meandered down her spine.

  This wasn’t the plan. She wasn’t supposed to be affected by him. She was supposed to wow him with her intelligence and show him she was more than a tomboy, more than a chick with rainbow hair. She wanted him to see what he’d missed out on when she finally told him the truth.

  How was she to do that when he was beginning to get under her skin? His nearness, his smile, and even the darn way he was standing at the window with his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. That damn ass of his was so perfectly round and tight against the thick fabric of the denim.

  Zoe closed her eyes, willing her mind to focus on what was important, and that was taking down the arrogant bastard a notch or three. Even the thought didn’t have as much gusto as it did before. He was no longer a bastard but still arrogant. Yes, she would take down the arrogant Gael Matheson a few notches.

  “I want a female,” he said, startling her.

  He turned and strode back to the mantle, but she moved to the sofa before he got there.

  “I need the perfect balance between beauty and brains to represent Blue Atlantic Shipping.”

  “Ah, so that’s the name of your company. Where have I heard that name before?”

  “I don’t know; I haven’t done much advertising. Most of my business has been through referrals.”

  Zoe kept her eyes on him, though she fought to avoid contact with his eyes. This was risky business, this game of cat and mouse. Somehow, she knew that Gael was the cat and felt that eventually, she’d be the one squealing for help.

  13. Chapter 12

  David was thinking of his son as he sipped a warm apple cider. With his wife by his side, he felt that he was partially responsible for the way Gael viewed the world. Having no desire to love anyone or get married was no way for a man to live.

  He had been fortunate to love twice, once with Gael’s mother and now his wife. Gael was yet to find love, and he saw the way his son was with that girl. However, Gael was too arrogant to admit he liked her, or maybe he didn’t realize it. Hopefully, his plan would work, and his son would find some happiness.

  Leaning across his armchair at the lodge a few miles from the homeless shelter, he spoke softly. “I think we should take up Bob and Jen’s offer and spend the night.”

  After spending a couple of hours handing out hot meals at the shelter, they’d come to the lodge to freshen and have a drink with their friends. Robert, aka ‘Bob’ was a longtime friend of twenty years along with his wife, Jennifer.

  “Stay the night. Why would you want to return to an empty house alone? There’s plenty of room, and the more, the merrier,” Bob had said.

  “We are not …” Marla had begun but he’d jabbed her and shook his head.

  “We’ll think about it,” he cut in.

  He placed the now empty cup on a coffee table and waited for her response. Marla looked at him with creases in her forehead. “What are you up to?” she whispered.

  “I think Gael likes that girl. Let them get to know each other a bit.”

  She hesitated. “Are you sure? There seems to be some tension there.”

  “It’s called chemistry, honey,” he replied, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Chemistry,” he repeated.

  “You’re so naughty.” She giggled.

  “Is that a yes?”

  She nodded. “Hmm, but I remember who she is.”

  He raised a brow and smiled. “Is that so?”

  “That magazine I buy twice per year, she’s in it. I just received the Christmas issue. I don’t know why I never recognized her before.”

  “The hair, that could fool anybody.” He chuckled, remembering Gael referring to her as Unicorn.

  “Her name is Zoe. She’s been modeling for nearly ten years, and she holds a college degree to boot,” she said wonderingly.

  David squeezed his wife’s hand. “It’s not too late for you. You could go to college too.”

  “Naw, I would rather do something else,” she replied happily.

  “What’s that?”

  “A flower shop. I want a flower shop.”

  “Then my girl shall have what she wants,” he replied, his eyes gleaming.

  Needing to get away from Gael, she made a run to the kitchen to clean it before his father and stepmother got back. She took the time to settle whatever conflict was happening in her mind.

  She disliked him, and men like him, yet, she was reacting to him like a schoolgirl with a crush. It didn’t make sense. There was no reasonable explanation except that the morning incident may have triggered some chemical reaction that she could not control. According to her own logic, so long as it was purely physical, resisting him was a piece of cake.

  When she got back to the living room, he was busy on his tablet, so she headed to her room to call Florine. The woman must have been going out of her mind, not knowing where she was.

  Florine answered after the first ring. “Where are you?” her voice was pitched high.

  “I’m with a friend,” she replied softly. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound good.”

  She sighed. “I got the flu, but it’s not so bad now.”

  “Where are you?” Florine asked once more. “I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday.”

  “I told you I’m with a friend. Don’t worry.”

  “I finally was able to get someone to the airport last night, and you weren’t there. I thought you got caught in the storm and perhaps something terrible happened,” Florine’s voice cracked.

  “I’m sorry. The network kept slowing down, perhaps due to the volume of users. Plus I was so sick; I was passed out half the time.”

  “Which friend are you staying with?” the other woman asked.

  Florine had never pressed her about her friends before; therefore, she knew the woman was worried about her. How could she tell her she was with Gael Matheson and that she was in the middle of a dangerous game?

  “I told you not to worry. I’m a big girl,” she reassured her.

  Florine’s sigh came loud and clear through the cell phone. “Okay. You’re a big girl.”


  “I’ll call you later.”

  “Make sure to do that, or I will report you missing!”

  That was no joke. Knowing her guardian, she’d call in the feds at the drop of a hat. Since the woman took her in, she’d treated her like a mother, maybe because she didn’t or couldn’t have kids of her own.

  “I promise,” she reiterated before hanging up.

  They chatted for a while longer before Florine finally let her go, making her promise to call her later that night. After she hung up and checked the time, it was near one o’clock, and she was now hungry. Not having eaten her fill that morning made for a battle in her stomach.

  She went back to the kitchen to have a chunk of the casserole while Gael was still on his tablet in the living room. While she let the food heat in the microwave, it occurred to her that he might be hungry as well.

  After a few minutes of conflict, trying to decide if she should also fix him lunch, she made up her mind and headed to the living room. As she entered, he looked up from his device.

  “I’m heating some of the casserole. I didn’t eat much this morning,” she babbled. “Would you by any chance like me to fix you some?”

  “Sure, that’d be great.” He grinned, and she lost her nerve.

  Whirling around, she tottered back on wobbly legs. Her stomach fluttered as she pushed the door, entering the safe haven of the kitchen. It was a bad idea, she concluded. Now, they’d have to sit across from each other. How was she going to eat with him at the table?

  “Crap!” she cursed under her breath.

  By the time she was done heating the food and getting some salad from the fridge, Gael presented himself. He was holding a bottle of red wine in his hand and two glasses.

  She took one look at the wine and frowned. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  “Maybe,” he replied easily. “Are you scared?”

  Another challenge, she thought. Yes, she was freaking scared. “Of course not!” she chortled.

  “Good. I didn’t think you were.”

  Is he making fun of me?

  She set the table while he poured the wine. Since it was just the two of them, she made sure they would sit as far apart as possible. That meant they would be directly facing each other. It was better than having to rub legs with him.