The Perfect Gift: A Christmas Billionaire Sexy Romance (Three Wise Men Book 1)

by Serenity Woods

  “You’ve already met him.”

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.”

  She blinked. “Brock…”

  “Please.” He spoke firmly. He wasn’t going to let her wriggle out of this. Undoubtedly, her mother was looking after Ryan while Erin was away, and he needed to talk to her.

  Sighing, she tucked her hair behind her ear. She wore it down today, and it fell past her shoulders in a blonde curtain. Everything about this woman reminded him of sunshine.

  “It’s just…” She sighed again. “The house, it’s… very small. Untidy. I don’t have much, Brock.”

  She met his eyes and then dropped her gaze. She was ashamed.

  It wasn’t until that moment that he really understood the vast gulf between them where money was concerned. Nor how closely linked poverty and pride were. He felt horrified and hurt that she didn’t want him to see where she lived, maybe because she thought he’d laugh, or look down at her for putting up with so little. But there was no point in expressing that hurt. This wasn’t about him, and she’d have no idea how she’d just insulted him.

  “Less for me to trip over,” he said, keeping his voice light. “Come on, I want to meet that son of yours for real and see what he’s made out of that Lego I got him.”

  She raised her gaze to his again. Her lips curved a little, and then she lifted her chin and took a deep breath. “Okay. Come on.”

  They got out, and he retrieved her bag from the back and locked the car, hoping the wheels would still be there when he came back.

  Taking her hand, he walked with her to the door, and she let herself in. “Hi, it’s me,” she called.

  Brock left her bag in the hall and followed her into the living room. Compared to his apartment, the place was tiny, and the furniture consisted of a chocolate-brown sofa and two navy blue chairs, a pine coffee table that had seen better days, a TV so small he’d have hesitated to use it as a PC monitor, and a variety of other bits and pieces that told him everything had either been donated to her by relatives or bought second-hand.

  He ignored all that, however, and smiled at the tall, blonde-haired woman who looked like an older version of Erin as she walked forward from the kitchen.

  “Mum, this is Brock,” Erin said, her cheeks flushing. “Brock, this is my mum—Karen Bloom.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Karen.” He held out his hand.

  The older woman shook it. A smile crossed her face, but her eyes were cautious. “Good to meet you too,” she said. “And thank you for giving my daughter such a nice birthday gift.”

  “Mum,” Erin warned, confirming his suspicion that Karen wasn’t referring to the hotel.

  He met Karen’s eyes. After what Erin’s ex had put her through, he understood that Karen was protective of her, even though he didn’t much care for her tarring him with the same brush.

  It sounded as if Jack had been the smooth-talking type who’d used his looks to disarm and win women over. While Brock wasn’t averse to using his charm, he sensed that in this situation Karen was far too sharp for that, and what she wanted was reassurance that Brock wouldn’t dazzle her daughter with money before dropping her like a greased rugby ball.

  “You’re welcome,” he said easily. “I hadn’t been there before, but I was very impressed. The hotel was superb, and our rooms were amazing, weren’t they?”

  Erin nodded, obviously recognizing his use of the plural. No doubt she’d confess to her mother later they’d stayed in the same room, but at least she knew he wasn’t going to brag about it. “It was fantastic,” she said to Karen. “My room was bigger than this house. It had gorgeous rimu floors and a view right over the bay.”

  “Mine had a hot tub on the deck,” he said, unable to add innocently, “I think yours did too, didn’t it?”

  Luckily, Karen had turned away to the door, so she missed Erin’s reproachful glare. “Ryan’s just woken from his nap,” Karen said as the boy cried out. “He must have heard the door. You want me to get him?”

  “No, I’ll go.” Erin moved past them, saying over her shoulder, “I won’t be long.”

  Brock watched her go, hiding a smile. Once she disappeared, he looked back at Karen.

  She was watching him, and her smile had faded. Slowly, she ran her gaze down him as if assessing him. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and let her peruse him, refusing to feel like a fifteen-year-old.

  When her gaze returned to his, he was smiling.

  “Okay?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  She had the grace to flush. “You might have fooled my daughter, but you can’t fool me, Mr. King.”

  “Brock, please. And how have I fooled her, exactly? She’s had a hard time of it lately, and I thought she deserved a treat for her birthday.”

  “That you paid for.”

  “If she’d paid for it, it wouldn’t have been a gift,” he pointed out. In the background, he heard Erin taking Ryan into the bathroom and the two of them discussing Transformers before the door swung shut.

  “She’s had a tough time,” Karen said, “and you’d think she’d be more wary of men, but she isn’t. She has a heart of gold, and she always believes the best of people. So I have to be wary for her.”

  “I understand.”

  “I won’t let her be hurt again.” Karen’s eyes glistened, and Brock softened inside. It must have been hard for her when Jack left, watching Erin go through childbirth and bringing up her son alone.

  “I’m not going to hurt her,” he said. “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

  Karen stared at him. In the distance, he could hear Erin singing Wheels on the Bus, Ryan’s high voice singing along with her. Outside the house, the teenagers had found a football and were yelling at each other as they kicked it down the road. Inside the living room, however, he could have heard a pin drop.

  “You’ve known her twenty-four hours,” Karen whispered. “That’s a stupid thing to say.”

  “Actually, I’ve known her over a year. We began talking online when Ryan went into hospital the first time.” He shrugged. “I’ve just got to convince her it’s what she wants too.” He gave a rueful smile.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Karen probably wasn’t lost for words a lot, but she genuinely looked stunned.

  “Don’t say anything,” he murmured. “If I ask her now, I know she’ll say no. She’s frightened of the fact that I have money, and I don’t want it to be a factor in her answer.”

  “How can it not be a factor? I read that article in the Herald. You’re not just rich, you’re a billionaire. I’m not even sure how many zeroes are in that.”

  “Nine. It used to mean a million million, but it’s only a thousand million now.” He was being dry, but it was lost on Karen.

  Her jaw dropped. “How can she possibly ignore that?”

  He tipped his head, puzzled.

  Then he realized she was assuming her daughter wouldn’t be able to say no to the money.

  “I think you’re vastly underestimating Erin,” he said, his voice hard.

  Karen gestured around the room. “Look where she lives. We help where we can, but she has almost nothing. You really think the notion of creating a better life for her child won’t be a factor in her decision? How naive are you?”

  “I’m not naive. I just don’t care.”

  “You don’t care if a woman marries you for your cash?”

  “Yes,” he said patiently, “but that’s not what we’re talking about here. I had to practically bully her to come away with me last night. I’m going to have to bully her to see me next weekend too. I’m not stupid—she doesn’t want me to think she’s seeing me for my money. It’s like she’s made of glass—she’s completely transparent. I can see every thought going through her head. Of course wanting a better life for Ryan is going to be a factor in her decision. And it absolutely should be.”

  “But you said—”

  “When I said I didn’t want money to be a factor in her ans
wer, I meant that I want to get to know her better before I ask her so she says yes to me, not to my wallet.”

  “Then why did you tell me?” Karen looked genuinely baffled.

  “Because you’re her mum. You’ve been there for her during all her difficult times. She’s devoted to you, and you to her, and there’s no question you want the best for her. And I don’t want you to think I’m using her. She’s beautiful inside and out, and I’m going to marry her whatever you think, but I really, really hope you approve of me.” He smiled.

  “Have you told her you love her yet?” Now Karen looked curious.

  “No. Far too early for that.” He grinned.

  A reluctant smile touched her lips. “I’m not quite sure what to make of you.”

  “I’m one of the good guys, Mrs. Bloom. I promise I only want good things for your daughter.”

  “The horn on the bus goes beep, beep, beep,” Erin sang, walking out and carrying Ryan as she pressed his nose. He was holding the large Dixon the Dog that Brock had given him on his birthday.

  The boy laughed, then saw Brock and stared.

  Erin followed his gaze, her expression turning wary at the sight of the two of them still standing. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” Brock smiled at the boy, who’d gone suddenly shy and cuddled up to his mum. “Hey, Ryan. My name’s Brock.” He held out a hand. The boy studied him, sucking on Dixon’s paw, then slowly extended his hand. Brock shook it. “Your mum was telling me how you got some really cool Lego for your birthday.”

  “It has dino-saws,” Ryan said, leaving a gap between the second and third syllables. He scratched his nose.

  “You like dinosaurs?”

  “Yes. A big wok came out of the sky and they all died.”

  “He means ‘rock’,” Erin pointed out. “He’s not saying a Chinese cooking pan caused their extinction.”

  Brock tried not to laugh. “Don’t tell me it has a Triceratops.”

  Ryan gave a small smile. “And a T-wex.”

  “And a T-rex? What about a Stegosaurus?”

  “And a Diplodocus.” Ryan said the word perfectly. “It’s bigger than my arm.”

  “It’s not,” Brock fake-scoffed.

  “It is! Come and look.” Ryan struggled to be put down, so Erin lowered him to the floor. Taking Brock’s hand, he led him over to the box in front of the TV.

  Brock sat on the carpet and crossed his legs, hiding a smile when Ryan sat beside him and did the same before delving into the box. Brock risked a quick glance up at Erin. She was staring at him, her fingers pressed to her lips, although she turned away when she saw him look up. When Erin walked into the kitchen, Karen glanced over at Brock. Her lips curved up.

  Taking that as a small victory, he turned his attention back to the boy, and concentrated on the important matter of making sure the dinosaurs had the right feet.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ryan had never been on a plane before.

  Erin showed him how to clip in his seat belt, and explained why he had to stay in his seat until Brock told him he could get down.

  “We have to keep safe,” Brock said. “If you stay in your seat, I’ll take you to meet the pilot and show you all the dials in the cabin.”

  Ryan’s eyes widened so far his eyeballs nearly fell out. Erin gave Brock a wry smile. “You’ll be his best friend for life the way you’re going.”

  “That’s the plan.” Brock smiled.

  Erin chewed her bottom lip and looked out of the plane as it taxied along the runway. Was he insinuating he was expecting this… whatever it was—a fling? an affair? a relationship?—to be long term? It sounded like it. She didn’t know whether that delighted or terrified her.

  She’d barely slept over the past week. She’d felt as if a high-profile court case was going on in her head, with the defense and prosecution taking turns to fire questions at her as she struggled to come to a decision about the weekend, and she was exhausted with all the worry.

  “I’m glad you said yes,” Brock said as if reading her mind.

  To look at him, nobody would have guessed he was a billionaire. He wore an All Blacks short-sleeved rugby shirt, a pair of long, cream chino shorts, and gray Converses. The breeze blowing across the airport had ruffled his hair, and she was pretty sure he hadn’t shaved. He looked rough and ready, gorgeous enough to eat with a spoon, especially because every time he studied her now he had a gleam in his eye that suggested he was thinking about her with no clothes on.

  It wasn’t difficult to remind herself he had money, though. They’d walked past the queues of people waiting to board the Air New Zealand flight from Kerikeri to Auckland, and she was now sitting in a cream leather chair on a sumptuous private jet. Ryan sat next to her, Brock opposite, with a table in between. Everything was made from cream leather, polished rimu wood, and glass so clean she could see her face in it. She was terrified about letting Ryan touch anything with his permanently sticky fingers.

  “It took me all week to decide,” she said, opting for honesty.

  “I know.” He smiled again.

  Not for the first time, she wondered what the conversation he’d had with her mother had involved. It had been clear when she’d returned to the living room after collecting Ryan that the two of them had been talking, but when she’d asked Karen, all she would say was, “It’s possible he’s one of the good guys.”

  That didn’t help. A one-night stand on her birthday was one thing. She’d had a great time, and she didn’t feel beholden to him because he’d gotten sex out of it. She tried not to think about the fact that it could be argued he’d paid a considerable amount for her to go to bed with him. It wasn’t like that, and she wasn’t going to let her brain think it was.

  Meeting him again, flying down to Auckland with him, staying with her son at his apartment—that was a whole other matter. Suddenly it wasn’t about a quick fling or satisfying her body’s apparently insatiable desire for the guy. She had to think about Ryan, and what it meant for him if she began a relationship with Brock. She had to start thinking about Where It Was Going.

  Or did she? After a week of internal wrangling, during which Brock didn’t pressure her—if she didn’t count the hundred-and-one text messages and phone calls they exchanged in which he repeatedly said he missed her—she became both bored and irritated with herself for not being able to make up her mind. She was tired of worrying about what other people might think if she said yes, including Brock. And eventually she decided she was going to simplify matters and follow her heart.

  The plane turned and came to standstill, and the noise of the engines changed as the pilot prepared for take off. Erin covered Ryan’s hand with hers. “Ready?”

  He nodded, his little face alight with excitement. The plane accelerated, and then she felt the uncomfortable lurch in her stomach as the wheels left the floor and the machine fought against gravity.

  Ryan squealed. “We’re flying!”

  Brock laughed. “You’ll see the clouds soon.”

  “Will we be able to see the silver?” the boy asked.

  Brock tipped his head quizzically. “What do you mean?”

  “Mummy says evwy cloud has a silver lining.”

  Brock scratched his chin—she suspected to hide a smile. “That sounds like something your mother would say. We’ll have a look out the window when we’re a bit higher.”

  He glanced at Erin, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Do you always look on the bright side of everything?”

  “Don’t see much point in the glass half empty notion.”

  “Some people would say you’ve had it tough, and it would be understandable if you blamed the world, or Fate, or people, for what’s gone wrong.”

  She shrugged. “Life’s hard enough as it is without waking each morning filled with doom and gloom.”

  His eyes were filled with warmth. He liked her positive approach to life—she could see that. He’d already called her Miss Sunshine, and it made se
nse that after two years of loneliness and heartbreak, he was enjoying being with someone who focused on the positive in everything.

  It wasn’t always easy—Erin had her off days the same as anyone else, days when she wanted to curse the universe for everything: for losing her job, for falling pregnant, for not being able to give her child the things she felt he deserved because she didn’t have the money, and for being alone for so long. But ultimately, she knew those things weren’t anyone else’s fault. She could rant and scream Jack’s name—and she had done—for abandoning her, or at the world for giving her a tough time, but ultimately shit happens, and she figured it was how she dealt with it that mattered. Negativity breeds negativity, and the last thing she needed was to spiral downward into a pit from which she knew she’d have trouble climbing out of again.

  Brock’s eyes were growing warmer—he was thinking about her naked again. She gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of going back to his apartment with him. He hadn’t specified what the sleeping arrangements would be, but she was certain he wasn’t expecting her to sleep with Ryan. Brock had asked her if Ryan slept in a bed now and she’d said yes, but that was as far as they’d discussed it.

  He winked at her. She stuck her tongue out at him. He raised his eyebrows and ran his gaze deliberately down her body and back up. By the time it reached her face, she knew her cheeks were scarlet.

  Luckily, she was saved by the appearance of the flight attendant. The slim, dark-haired woman who’d told Erin her name was Pat when they boarded came over with two glasses and a beaker for Ryan, and poured fresh orange juice into them.

  “What would you like for breakfast, ma’am?” Pat asked.

  “Oh, call me Erin, please.”

  “She won’t do that,” Brock said. “She’s very formal, aren’t you, Pat?”

  “Yes, Mr. King.”

  He laughed. “What would you like for breakfast, Ryan? Do you like scrambled eggs? Toast and jam? Cereal?”

  “Scwambled eggs!”

  “Wow. Me too. It’s like we’re twins.”

  Ryan thought that was hysterically funny. Trying not to laugh, Erin attempted to calm him and sent Pam an apologetic look. “Scrambled eggs would be lovely for both of us, thank you.”