Wintertime Love: A Christmas Billionaire Small Town Romance

by Blair, Emelia

  I have zero defenses when it comes to him and the bastard has no shame in using whatever arsenal he finds against me to get what he wants.

  When Nick and Lucia release me, I cross my arms over my chest, telling them, “I’m not getting married, just so you know. I don’t have any plans to get married any time soon.”

  Nick grins. “I don’t know, Clara. I’ve seen how you two are. You’ll be shouting at him one minute and then he’ll smile at you and you’ll end up doing exactly what he wants.” He glances at Lucia. “I think he’s already won.”

  Lucia nods, gravely. “You’re a goner.”

  I gave the two of them a baleful look. “Get out.”

  Nick waves his cup around. “I’m a paying customer.”

  I narrow my eyes at him and he suddenly looks wary. “Or I could go for a to-go box.”

  I watch them leave but not before I’m teased for a full ten minutes. By the time they’re gone, I’m ready to rip Finn a new one for declaring something like this in front of people.

  A few scant hours later, I realize why he did that.

  During the dinner rush, I’m delivered a large bouquet and with a small person sized basket filled with chocolates and stuffed animals added in was a large satin covered soft heart with the words ‘Be my forever’ sewn on them.

  Customers who’ve been eyeing me strangely ever since they walked in, see this as an opportunity to come over and offer congratulations.

  I feel faint.

  Of course, Finn would choose to say those fateful words in front of the two biggest gossips he knows.

  Suddenly, the abnormal amount of people crowding the diner makes sense and I curse the Irishman in my heart. I’m going to sit on him and beat him senseless.

  You would think that with Christmas around the corner, people would be busy. But they somehow always seem to make time for any gossip about this hot new romance blooming in their little town.

  I can do little more than accept the sincere congratulations at some point because it’s becoming tiring to keep repeating that it’s not what they think. Every time I say it, I’m given baffled looks and it makes me grit my teeth at how much support Finn has garnered in his short time here.

  That manipulative little shit.

  I sigh inwardly, grimly staring into the expectant faces of my customers. “Stacy, put this in the office.” I shove the huge basket and flowers into the startled girl’s arms and roll up my sleeves, putting on my best professional face.

  I’m not going to let Finn get into my head.

  I move among the tables, taking orders, avoiding and deflecting any questions about why Finn isn’t here, and move away.

  Hopefully, he’s somewhere far away and stays there till I calm down.

  As people start leaving, I send Stacy home, wanting to take out some of frustrations with another thorough cleaning session. The diner is empty and although it’s not closing time yet, I start wiping down the tables, stewing silently, planning up cruel and torturous ways of getting Finn back for this.

  Half the town now thinks we’re engaged or at least they know that he wants to marry me and I’m spurning his advances.

  I grit my teeth.

  A part of me is flattered and thrilled. So really, I’m more angry because of that. I stop in the midst of moving the cloth with a frown. It’s so hard to live in my head.

  I’m happy. I’m angry. I want to kiss Finn. I want to beat him within an inch of his life.

  If I could just decide.

  The bell on the door tinkles and without looking around, I say, “Kitchen’s closed. We only got coffee and tea.”

  A female voice rises from behind me, “Are you Clara Winter?”

  I blink at the unfamiliar accented voice and turn around, still holding on to the cloth in my hand.

  The woman standing in the doorway is stunningly beautiful. She’s wearing a deep red furred winter coat, her long dark black hair silky straight like a cascading waterfall. Her eyes are the deepest shade of blue, striking really. Her skin is fair, her lips painted a perfect red. She exudes elegance and class. Standing next to her, I feel like a street urchin, my hair in a disheveled bun, my clothes wrinkled from a day’s work, my lipstick chewed off, and I have what I’m pretty sure are bags under my eyes.

  The disparity clings to me for just a brief moment before I straighten up, letting go of the nonsense that just flitted through my brain.

  I wipe my hands on my apron, deliberately and ask, “How can I help you?”

  Her pretty blue eyes run over me in an assessing manner and her lip curls in a way that tells me I’ve come up short in every way.

  I smile mockingly. Because her opinion is so important to me, right?

  “So, you are her?” the woman asks, her voice sweet and yet hard, her accent clearly British.

  I raise a brow. “Yes. Now, how can I help you?”

  She doesn’t answer my question, choosing to look around my diner, a condescending look in her eyes. “So, this is your little shop. How quaint.”

  I have a feeling that she and I have different definitions for that word.

  The haughty look in her eyes, along with a sliver of disgust, is implying that she feels like she’s walked into a garbage chute.

  I narrow my eyes, “Did you come here to buy something, or are you just trying to waste my time?”

  She lifts a brow, fixing her eyes on me. “Your looks are quite average as well. Nothing special. My maid dresses better than you.”

  Her maid? What the hell is this?

  I refuse to get angry over this lunatic barging in and shooting off her mouth. “All right,” I pick up my broom, pointing it in her direction. “Get the hell out of my diner. Move it.”

  She gives me an incredulous stare and then scoffs, delicately, “You lower class sure are strange. You should know your place.”

  Which era did this woman walk out of?

  “Look, lady. I don’t know what you want.”

  She draws herself up straight and gives me a piercing cold look. “I want you to stay away from Finn McCarthy.”

  This has me freezing and I have an insane urge to act confused, scratch my head and ask, ‘who?’ Instead, I just blink, gathering my wits together at this sudden twist. She’s British. He’s been raised in Britain. Makes sense that they might know each other. Should’ve put two and two together.

  But I’ve never been one to allow anyone to bully me so I prop the broom on the ground and lean my arms over the handle my hip cocked out, a smirk on my face. “And just who do you think you are coming around here, telling me who I should see or not?”

  She raises her chin, her eyes glittering, her cheeks flushed in anger at my defiant attitude which is clearly biting at her. “I’m his betrothed.”

  My vicious anger drains out of me and I give her a bewildered look. “You’re his what now?”

  She clearly thinks she now occupies the moral high ground as she states, “He and I are meant to marry each other.”

  Now my rage is swift and dangerous followed by an anguish that makes my vision darken for a heartbeat, but I force my voice to remain calm, “So, he proposed to you?”

  Scoundrel! Two-timing, lousy piece of –

  The woman opens her mouth and there is a flash of hesitation in her eyes that my sharp eyes don’t miss before she says, stiffly, “Our grandmothers agreed to our betrothal.”

  The fist that is crushing my heart so tightly that it’s getting hard to breathe, loosens it’s grip slightly. “But did he propose to you?”

  “It’s been understood between our families that—”

  “He proposed to me.” I give her an easy smile. “Today, in fact.”

  Her face pales and then a terrible fury wraps around her beautiful features, as she hisses, “You’re lying!”

  I don’t betray the turmoil in my heart and shrug. “He was quite public about it. You can ask around.”

  “Finn and I have been together since he came to WestHallor!” T
he woman’s hands are clenched. “He knows that we will get married! So stop with your lies. You’re just somebody he’s fooling around with.”

  My jaw tightens with anger and my eyes flash at her. “For somebody who thinks I’m of little consequence, you sound a little desperate. Why would you track me down if you believe that?”

  She glares at me, her brows knitted together.

  Now, I can’t see any hint of the elegance that she had had wrapped around herself when she first walked in.

  She shrugs. “I just wanted to see the little tart that’s his flavor of the month.”

  I’ve seen the way Finn is around me, the love, the respect, the adoration in his eyes. I recall the times he’s opened up to me, the way he’s dragged me out of my shell. I remember the overwhelming joy in his eyes when I finally admitted that I loved him. I’ve spent so long scared that he’d hurt me that I’ve not even given myself a chance to trust him, to trust us.

  I don’t know who this woman is but I’m more level headed than she takes me for. I’m not going to ruin one of the best things that’s ever happened to me over the words of a woman I don’t know. I’d rather wait for Finn to tell me his side.

  So, I smile and say, “Well, now that you’ve seen me, why don’t you do us both a favor and get out? I’ve got things to do and don’t have time to waste on somebody with delusions of grandeur.”

  She stiffens and it pleases me to see the insult on her face. However, that is soon replaced by a malicious look, “I’d be careful of how you talk to me. I have a lot of influence in the business world. Shutting down a trash heap like this would be nothing for me.”

  Fury envelops me and I bare my teeth at her in a cold smile. “You must really consider me a threat to go that far. Tell you what. I’ll give you a minute to get out of my dinner and if you do, I promise not to kick your skinny ass.”

  She narrows her eyes at me.

  I lift the broom and step towards her, my eyes chilly, “I can bet you’ve never gotten into a physical fight with someone before. Prissy princess like yourself.”

  Her eyes flare in humiliated anger.

  I then ask, softly, “Should I start counting?”

  She hesitates and then turns on her heel, marching out. Pausing at the doorway, she turns around, her face red. “This isn’t over. You’ve messed with the wrong family, Miss Winter”

  I give her an amused look that is straight out of Finn’s book and wait for the door to slam behind her. Once I’m alone, the amusement vanishes to be replaced by gut wrenching fury, my eyes flaring with burning rage.

  I don’t even bother cleaning up.

  Locking up in the next five minutes, I’m in my car.

  Reaching the house, I park my car in the winding driveway and march up to Finn’s room past my startled aunts, ignoring their queries.

  I bang on his door with my fist, shouting, “Open up, Finn! I know you’re in there!”

  The door opens after a heartbeat and I see a grinning face. Unfortunately, my rage is too much as I raise my hands and shove him.

  Finn staggers back, shock on this face, and I hear my aunts say something loudly in protest.

  But I don’t care.

  Right now, I feel like I’ve been played with.

  My heart is dangling on a fragile thread. I want to give Finn the benefit of doubt but seeing him just reminds me the arrogant look on that woman’s face who told me that Finn knew that he was intended for someone else.

  In my eyes, right now, as I glare with fury stricken eyes at the man who’s wrapped himself around me so tight that I can’t breathe, a betrothal sounds as good as an engagement right now. The pain is suffocating me and I refuse to break, to cry as my soul withers at the idea that my first love might have just made a fool out of me, and I channel all that agony into anger.

  “Betrothed, Finn?!” I snarl, stepping into his personal space, my hands fisted at my sides. “Isn’t that the type of thing you tell someone before you propose to them?!”

  Chapter 12

  Finn stares at me stupefied for a second before his eyes grow cold, his tone harsh as he asks, “Where did you hear that?”

  I bare my teeth at him, ignoring the way that terrible look on his face makes my blood run cold. I’ve never seen him like this and for a moment, I lose my nerve. But I have never been one to bow down or let my fear rule my judgement. “Your fiancé showed up, wanting to see ‘the little tart that’s your flavor of the month,” I snap out. “She—”

  “Elaine called you a whore?”

  If I thought he looked scary before, the murderous glint in Finn’s eyes has me taking a step back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

  He takes advantage of that and steps towards me. “What else did ‘my fiancé say to you?” His voice is deceptively soft,

  My anger evaporates in the face of the chilling fury in his eyes and I slowly realize that Finn has been hiding parts of himself from me. I can’t see any hint of the man who laughs as he traps me in his arms, stealing kisses from me, or the man who teases me so relentlessly. There is pure unadulterated rage in his eyes and a sliver of uncontrollable fear makes me tremble. Although I instinctively know he won’t hurt me. Yet, I’ve never seen him like this and I don’t know what do.

  I open my mouth to say something, trying to reach for some of that anger that I had been filled with just moments ago but I can only find bewilderment and confusion.

  This is not how a man who has just been called out for two-timing reacts.

  Finn seems more furious that Elaine called me a tart.

  I take a step back, retreating when he keeps coming towards me, his aura almost menacing. “What else did she say to you, Clara?”

  Uh-oh. He used my name.

  He’s really pissed.

  “Is she really your fiancé?” I manage to at least whisper the words, trying to sort out this complicated tangle of emotions within me.

  Finn stops in his tracks and studies me, then a forlorn expression flits over his face as he reaches out with both arms and drags my unresisting body into his embrace, sighing into my hair. “She’s not.”

  His words surprise me. “But you just –“

  He pulls away, enough so that he can see my face but keeps me imprisoned in his arms. There’s a stern look on his face, one that takes me aback.“I’m a manipulative bastard, I’ll admit. I’m possessive and annoying, and I do my level best to drive you insane. I’m capable of a lot of things, Clara. But the one thing I can never do is to hurt you. Elaine and I are not engaged. My grandmother decided this on her own, that I would marry into Elaine’s family. I told you before, she remembers the glory of the past days and she wants to retain the family name, to keep McCarthy bloodline pure.”

  His grandmother sounds exhausting.

  “Clara, this whole thing was decided a month after I was brought to live at the family estate. I wasn’t in the right state of mind then.”

  I freeze.

  His grandmother wouldn’t be that cruel?

  He had just lost his mother and had been grieving. A sudden flare of anger rises in me at the thought of the callous woman who not only wouldn’t let him grieve, but also took advantage of his state to force a betrothal on him. She should have been someone who should have loved him and pampered him bit instead every time Finn opens his mouth to talk about her, he fans the flame of my hatred towards this woman.

  Finn doesn’t seem to have noticed anything and he continues, “Elaine has been a constant visitor ever since and before I started college, I made it clear to her that I had no intention of carrying through with this betrothal. She wasn’t happy but she seemed to accept it after a while. We were still in touch every now and then because I had to come back to the estate to see my grandmother. It was when I was about to start my own business that she approached me, wanting to be an investor. I didn’t need her money but she wouldn’t listen. She wanted to become a business partner and have something of her own that she could be proud of. So, I agreed.” />
  “She’s your business partner as well?” I say, slowly, suddenly the entire picture coming into focus in front of my eyes.

  Elaine never intended to break of the betrothal. Smart woman that she was, she had decided to involve herself in Finn’s business as an excuse to spend more time with her and get him to fall in love with her.

  And I have a feeling this is all with the blessing of Finn’s grandmother.

  I’ve never been one to play politics or scheme, much preferring a blunter approach to tackle an opponent and take them down. My lips purse, clearly displeased.

  Finn looks down at me, an anxious looks on his face. “You do believe me, right?”

  I blink and then wave off his concerns. “Of course I believe you.” My eyes are narrowed as I look up at him. “But I don’t intend to hand you over without a fight. You’re not the only one with a possessive streak. You’re mine.”

  He stills at my angry declaration and then walks me backwards till I’m pressed against the wall, hidden behind the door, and he murmurs, “Am I really yours?”

  The way he asks that question, his eyes hooded, his voice husky, it makes my heart beat faster and I glare up at him. “Now isn’t the time for your weird sex games. There’s a woman running loose out there, claiming to be your fiancé. We need to deal with this situation. You can only have fiancé at a time.” I try to slip out .his grip.

  He moves me back in place, his eyes dark, his tone silky, “And that would be…?”

  I am very close to kneeing him in the crotch. “Me, you moron!”

  He gives me a thoughtful look, “Is it strange that I enjoy being pushed around by you?”

  I gape at him. “I don’t push you—have you seen how you behave in bed?!” My voice is only slightly less than a shout and I hear scandalized gasps from the other side of the door.

  Finn smirks, smugly. “Now, everybody does.”