Her Fake Christmas Eve Billionaire Boyfriend

by Chelsea Hale

  Her breath caught. “That’s a pretty good speech.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I didn’t mean to keep anything from you. I just … everything happened so fast and I couldn’t tell you who I was at the beginning. I didn’t want to. I wanted you to like me for me.”

  “Did I meet the real you?” she asked, watching the way his light blue eyes were fixed on her.

  “You can’t make up being a Star Wars fan like that,” he said.

  She shook her head, unable to hide her smile. “No, no you can’t.”

  “Give us another chance? A first, real chance?”

  She nodded. “I’d like that.”

  He stood, pulling her up from the table and wrapped her in a hug.

  The moment felt perfect, the earlier stress melted away.

  “You’re the Leia to my Han,” he said, kissing her with the promise of having something real between them.

  She was lost in his kiss, not caring that they were at her favorite coffee shop surrounded by regular customers. At this moment, no one else mattered.

  When they broke the kiss, she smiled. “You’re kind of cheesy when it comes to Star Wars.”

  “I know.” He laughed. “And I meant what I said. I’m madly in love with you.”

  “I love you.” And with that admission she kissed him again.

  Epilogue - The Next Christmas

  Emery looked down at her hands that were entwined with James’. The huge marquis diamond on her engagement ring sparkled under the spotlights in James’ private jet.

  They settled into their seats as Parker, James’ pilot, told them about their flight.

  James put his other arm around her and squeezed her shoulder gently, kissing the top of her head as they took off for her parents’ house for the Christmas festivities.

  The jet took off smoothly, heading to Boston, where the weather was going to be stormier.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked her.

  She smiled. “I was thinking how last Christmas and this Christmas are different.”

  “Are they different? We were together then too.”

  She squeezed his hand, admiring the setting he’d picked out for her. “Yes, but now we’re actually together, not just pretending. A lot has changed in the last year.”

  James smiled. “Making up with your sister was huge. You made the perfect Maid of Honor at her wedding.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “Things are definitely better between us. I’m glad you were a groomsman. You look handsome in a tux.”

  “I always like dressing up with you. It makes me want to go to the movies.”

  She laughed, remembering the midnight showing of Star Wars from the Christmas Eve last year. “Me too,” she said.

  “Do you like your new job? Or is it too much?” he asked.

  “The transition has been good. I’m glad you were able to persuade Matt to come help me run your advertising. I don’t think I could have kept up on all of it by myself. Advertising for a billionaire is quite a lot, you know.”

  He squeezed her shoulder, giving her reassurance in the simple touch.

  James had decided that he wanted in-house advertising and he’d asked Emery to help him grow that part of his business.

  Once Emery made the transition, Matt was willing to come along too, though he’d been hesitant at first. James had increased their salaries and thrown in a nice vacation package, and it was an offer neither could refuse.

  “So, we’re with your family until the wedding,” he said.

  Emery nodded. “Yep. Grandpa and Alice will be married right before the New Year. Alice has been sending me pictures of the venue. It looks romantic. Grandpa is certainly smitten with Alice, and I think they’re perfect for each other.”

  “Very romantic,” James said.

  “And then we’ll head to California and visit your family.”

  “I can’t believe that the next time we’ll be traveling after that we’ll be getting married in Paris.”

  “It’s coming up quick,” he said. “I’m so excited.”

  She smiled. “You better be. So am I.” She leaned against his shoulder. “Who would have thought that hiring a fake boyfriend for Christmas last year would have led to all of this. It was the best $1,000 I’ve ever spent.”

  He tickled her. “Hey, now. I gave that money back.”

  “You didn’t have to though. It was well earned.” She laughed. “And hiring you was still the best decision.”

  “You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” He kissed her gently.

  “You always know exactly what to say,” she said. “I can’t wait to be married to you.”

  “Same here.”

  The jet soared above the cloudy weather, and sunshine gleamed in through the windows on the plane. Emery snuggled close to James on the plush, leather couch, and kissed him again. At this moment, everything was exactly right.

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  The Undercover Resort Billionaire - Chapter One

  “There has to be some mistake,” Callie said, looking at the big zero on the screen. “I had $40,000 left in the account just last week.”

  The teller’s badge said Katie. Staring at the monitor, her eyes widened as she looked back to Callie. “I apologize, miss. Could you wait here?” She cleared her throat. “It looks like … we might have a … glitch in our system.”

  “Okay,” Callie said, glancing down at her watch. Work had been busy today, but she’d made it to the bank just in time to send her first payment to a supplier for imported leather. After years of working on her luxury purse designs and saving up the money, she was finally ready to make the leap and figure out her entrepreneurial dream.

  She glanced around the bank. Only one other customer was being helped. Callie bounced on her toes, wishing that there was a line of people behind her that she could tell exactly what this moment in the bank meant to her. It was a culmination of years.

  Once the money was wired to the supplier, the leather would be shipped to her within forty-eight hours. And she would make her first ever prototype. She ran her hand across the purse she used. It was nice, but Callie knew she could make something amazing. The color, the texture, the functionality. It was all going to be exactly what she needed, and what she hoped everyone else wanted.

  “Ms. Hayes?” A man with a comb-over and large spectacles came to the teller stand in place of Katie.

  “That’s me,” Callie said.

  “Ms. Hayes, I’m the bank manager, Mr. Walters.” He extended his hand. “Your account has been flagged, and I wanted to come talk to you personally about it.”

  “Thank you,” she said, grateful he was there to help. Callie glanced at the clock behind him. There were ten minutes before the close of business. Plenty of time to work this out with the bank manager handling it. “I’m actually in kind of a hurry to get this money wired by the close of business today.” She knew she probably looked ridiculous, but she couldn’t keep herself from grinning at him. She could practically smell the leather shipment arriving already.

  Mr. Walters studied her for a moment, before glancing at the screen. “In a hurry, you say?” he asked, his expression ponderous.

  “I received word today my supplier has my shipment ready to go. They’re just waiting for payment. It’s been weeks of waiting for them to get what I need in stock.” And they wouldn’t give her a final price on the Italian leather until they’d received th
eir own supplies.

  Mr. Walters nodded. “Do you know a Michael Polten?”

  “He’s my fiancé.”

  “Did you give him permission to pull money out of your account?” Mr. Walters watched her closely.

  Dread sank through her, finally settling around a pit in her stomach. Something was wrong. “Yes, he was doing some investment banking for me.”

  And over the last two years he’d made her a lot of money. It was easier to streamline the process and let him withdraw as he needed to. Within thirty days, she always received a return on her investment. But he wasn’t allowed to touch the $40,000 base in her account. Now the $75,000 that he’d said would be in her account, as well as the $40,000 that should have always been there, were gone.

  “My suggestion is you get a hold of Mr. Polten. He is the one you need to talk to.” The words felt final as Mr. Walters pushed the withdrawal slip across the dark wood counters toward Callie.

  Callie rubbed her temples, panic rising in her chest. She pulled her phone from her purse, pushing the favorite icon and dialing Michael’s number. He traveled internationally and sometimes the time zones didn’t line up, but she was amazed at how often he picked up to talk to her anyway, even if it was in the middle of his night.

  The phone rang only once before the dial tone made an ugly beep. An automated voice said, “The number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please check the number and dial again.” Callie ended the call, pulling the phone away from her ear.

  Panic rose in her chest. What did this mean? She looked up at Mr. Walters. “His cell phone has been disconnected.”

  “The last two withdrawals from this account were transferred to a dummy account in another state that has been linked to money laundering. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No … Michael did some investing for me. I haven’t been involved in the particulars.” Her cheeks heated.

  “We take the privacy of our clients very seriously.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said. Her brain felt scrambled as she took in her situation.

  Mr. Walters nodded and began droning on, asking her questions about fraud and the misuse of funds. He said something about her mortgage and withdrawing all of her equity. It all felt confusing.

  He put a file folder on the counter between them. “Does this look familiar to you?”

  She opened the folder, revealing papers showing her signature—actually not her signature, but something that looked super close to her signature. There was only one explanation that ran through her mind. Michael must have forged the documents. How did this happen? Numbness spread through her body. “I-I—”

  The ringing of a bell announced a customer coming into the branch. Mr. Walters broke eye contact with Callie for the first time. Relief seemed to wash over him as he took in the person who’d just come in. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his brow.

  Callie turned to see the patron. It was a police officer. The uniformed man walked toward them, surveying the rest of the branch as he walked through it.

  The police officer nodded to Mr. Walters, and Mr. Walters looked more at ease than he had a few minutes before.

  “Ms. Hayes, I’m Officer Green, and I have a few questions for you.” Then he turned to Mr. Walters and said, “Thank you for your help. I can handle this from here. Do you have an office we can use?”

  Mr. Walters nodded. “Of course. Right this way.”

  Mr. Green gestured for Callie to walk in front of him as Mr. Walters escorted them to his office. Callie’s head began to spin. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears.

  “We have reason to believe that Michael Polten is involved in a Ponzi scheme. He leaves few tracks, but the FBI caught one of his accomplices in another state. As part of her plea bargain, she gave us your name and the information about your account that was used for money laundering.”

  When the bank manager had mentioned that her account had been flagged, it hadn’t been an understatement. And then it was thirty minutes of interrogations to find out if she was part of the fraud. Officer Green asked her question after question about Michael. She racked her brain to remember all of the places Michael had traveled, what their wedding plans were, and where they liked to eat out.

  Two hours later she was allowed to leave, but not without her house being repossessed to cover the bank’s damages while they investigated the fraud of Michael Polten. She was almost positive the police didn’t suspect her of being an accomplice in the crimes the fake guy named Michael Polten had done, but that didn’t stop the bank from taking her house anyway. She had given him willing access to her accounts and there was nothing that she could do about it.

  * * *

  Callie pushed through her front door, swinging the door hard. It crashed back into the door frame, the slam echoing through her house.

  She walked from room to room, taking in the beautiful furnishings. The small two-bedroom home was modest and bright. On the kitchen table she saw the scatted designs of her purses. This morning she’d woken up early and had a few more designs to sketch out before she had to go to work. Morning was when her creativity flowed. She pulled a sticky note off of one of her drawings. In her giddy state this morning she’d written herself a note, “You’ve got this. Today is the day! Countdown until the leather arrives: two days.”

  She pursed her lips. How much had changed in a matter of hours. She closed her eyes slowly, hoping the gesture would help her control the tears that began to well up inside as reality came crashing down on her.

  Callie looked around the small kitchen. With any luck, the police would catch Polten and then she’d get everything back. Once that happened, her money would be returned, but until then, she needed to start over. Her dream of building up and owning her own business was now dashed with all of her seed money gone.

  She had thought she’d found a way to make a lot of investment money quickly so she could start her business without a business loan, but with the bank’s notice and her social security number compromised, she wasn’t going to be accepted for a bank loan anywhere else anytime soon.

  She was given forty-eight hours to clear her house of anything sentimental. Everything else would be held or sold to pay for the damages. Callie packed up four boxes of pictures and family heirlooms and her suitcase stuffed with her clothes. Lastly, she pulled all of her hard copies of her purse designs and put them in her portfolio. With all of her money gone, she was going to have to get creative on how she was going to make her idea for a purse business successful. But right now, with the news of the day, the only thing she wanted to do was punch something. Stupid Michael. Or whatever his name really was. Stupid her. Ugh.

  Read the rest of The Undercover Resort Billionaire now!

  Mr. Write - Chapter One

  Liz Montgomery bolted into the football stadium as the third quarter began. She stopped to catch her breath, the air around her felt thin. She was late. Parking six blocks away and running the whole way in sandals had left her winded. Her dry throat ached for relief. She’d need more than a week back from her summer in Texas to acclimate to the altitude in Boulder.

  The familiar smells of concession food, warm air, and hot metal mixed together, inviting her to the nearest line to quench her thirst. It was a perfect day for the first game of the season. Her twin brother, Grip, played quarterback for the University of Colorado, and she watched every game. Normally.

  This was all her brother, Sam’s fault. Why had he called an hour before the game to tell her he was bringing someone for her to meet? Maybe having her roommate hide her car keys was a bad idea after all. She had only wanted to be twenty minutes late, not miss the first half of the game.

  The single concession stand employee juggled filling drinks and taking payments. She craned her neck toward the field, squinting against the late afternoon sun. The cheering grew louder, and she scowled at her obstructed view of the field. If she hurried, she might catch the instant replay on the screen.

>   Every guy Sam had set her up with, since breaking off her engagement two years ago, was disastrous. She thought after the last time, Sam had taken the hint that she could find her own dates. Apparently not.

  She tapped on the counter after getting her large root beer. “Could I get a lid?” Liz asked, as she paid the cashier.

  “Sorry, all out. The other concession stand might have one.” The cashier returned Liz’s card.

  She sipped her drink down a few inches. The bubbly liquid soothed her dry throat. She descended the stairs toward her front row seat. CU’s fight song broke out, and the entire home section stood and cheered. Everyone stopped to join in, and Liz watched the instant replay of a sweet tackle on the big screen.

  Ahead of her a guy went down the stairs, his sculpted shoulders boasted regular use. Even from her raised angle, he seemed tall. She didn’t pay attention and lost her footing. She collided with the muscles in front of her. His nachos flew from his paper tray. Root beer shot out of her cup, showering them both with the brown sticky carbonation. The guy grabbed the handrail and steadied them both. His strong hand wrapped around her arm, keeping her upright.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Liz stared into the most beautiful green eyes she’d ever seen. Her mouth hung halfway open as she studied the man who broke her fall. He was probably around her age, mid-20s. His strong jaw was evident as the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile, pushing his left cheek into a deep dimple.

  She blinked, raising her gaze to his eyes again. They held amusement. “I’m okay,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I’m not sure what happened.”

  “You knocked me off my feet,” he said.

  Heat crept up her neck. “Under different circumstances those words would thrill me.” She laughed until she looked down at her shirt and his, then groaned. Normally fans wore black. Of course, she and the guy she drenched were the only white fish amidst the sea of black and gold logos. Stickiness settled on her skin.