I'm wearing heels with my big red ballgown and they are little protection against the cold. The dress is soaked with melted snow, and is becoming heavier by the second.
I pull my phone out of my purse, but continue to trudge down the road as I call a cab to come and pick me up and take me to the airport. The guy on the other end lets' me know it's going to be at least forty minutes for them to get to my location, so I'll have to keep moving or stand out here in the cold dark and wait. The tears want to come, but I fight them back, dialing Lucia.
“Come on,” I say when she doesn't immediately pick up. I dial her again, trying several more times, but she still doesn't pick up. My phone is almost dead, and I curse under my breath, sending her a text telling her it's an emergency and I need her to call me ASAP. It'll be okay, I try to tell myself. I can charge it while I'm at the airport.
As silly as it might seem to someone else, the connection I felt with those men after such a short period of time burned brighter than any relationship I'd ever hoped to have. There was a special connection between the six of us and … it's gone and it's never coming back.
I push those thoughts aside and try to focus on more pressing problems, like what the heck I'm going to do. Without Lucia to help me out, I don't have enough to cover even an economy plane ticket—and I definitely can't afford a hotel room.
The bus station is my only hope, and I might not even have enough to cover that ticket.
The cab picks me up, walking down the side of the snowy mountain road, and takes me to the bus station. The driver doesn't ask any questions, just takes my money and leaves.
When I get there, the lights are on but the doors are locked.
“Fuck,” I sob, banging on it for good measure. They closed early on account of Christmas Eve. The icy wind blows and I shiver. For the first time, it occurs to me, I could actually die out here, but I don't really have any choice but to stay here till they open.
I sit down under the eaves, hugging my knees close to my chest. My body is already trembling in a useless attempt at warming itself. That's when the tears finally come, alone in the dark winter night. I made such a mistake; I never should have taken their offer. From the start, I knew to stay away, but I was drawn to them with such vigor, a passion I never thought possible. I know though, deep down, that I don't deserve a happy ending. Father was right, that cruel little voice in the back of my mind says. People like me don't deserve anything.
The bitter cold of the frozen night is becoming unbearable now, sapping what little strength I have.
It's so chilly, my teeth chatter uncontrollably.
I don't know if it's the frosty temperatures or the emotional turmoil of knowing I lost my soul mates today, but that is the last thought I have before I fall into a broken state of restless sleep.
“She's here! Thank God.”
I'd recognize that voice anywhere—Hudson.
I try to open my eyes, but it feels like there are lead weights attached to my eyelids. I try to speak, but my mouth doesn't work properly. All that will come out is an incoherent babbling.
He scoops me up like I'm weightless. Hudson's skin is so hot, it is almost painful where he touches my cold body. He carries me somewhere warm, but I still can't open my eyes. Immediately, he starts stripping my clothes off. I try to say something to stop him, but it comes out all jumbled.
“We've got you, angel. Help is on its way,” I hear Jack say. Jack's here too? I think then, help? What help? I feel so confused and disoriented right now. And cold. Like the winter chill is now a part of my body and it will never subside.
Gradually, I start to feel more like myself, and when I open my eyes, I'm somewhere I don't recognize, a hotel lobby, I think, wearing nothing but a blanket. Whit is holding my right hand and Gabe is holding my left. Hudson, Colden, and Jack are there too, close by, looks of worry etched in their perfect features. I'm surrounded by dozens of people, EMTs and hotel staff mostly, but I only have eyes for the five gorgeous billionaires that I'm in love with.
Slowly, I start to feel like myself again as the cold recedes. After I don't know how long, the EMTs let me go, but I have strict orders to stay warm and drink lots of warm fluids. Still swaddled in blankets, Colden carries me to the a limo waiting just outside and holds me on his lap like I'm something to protect. The other four guys crowd as close to me and Colden as they can. As soon as the door closes, and the six of us are alone, I speak.
“You came for me,” I say, my voice hoarse from breathing in so much cold winter air.
“Precious, of course we did.” Jack speaks first. “Why wouldn't we?”
It's Gabriel who speaks next. “Why did you leave us?” In the silky smooth tones of his cultured voice, I can hear the hurt. Did I do that?
“I … I heard your father. And he's right. I'm not good enough to have even one of you, let alone all of you.”
Hudson laughs before replying. “You are only correct about one thing—Dad was right.”
Even if it's the truth, the words sting anyway. Somehow they hurt more wrapped in Colden's strong arms than if I were all alone. Maybe it's because I know this is the last time I will ever get to feel this safe and protected? “But you should have stuck around to listen to the entire conversation,” he says, giving me a pointed look.
“I don't understand,” I say to no one in particular.
Colden takes a deep breath then sighs. “You got it wrong. Our father doesn't think we are too good for you. He thinks you are too good for us.”
It takes me a minute to understand what they mean. I look at Whit, meeting his eyes.
“Is this true?” I ask. Whit signs something at Jack.
“He wants to know if you ever read the note,” Jack says. Note? What note? Whit signs something else to Jack. “The note that was with the necklace.”
I shake my head no. Whit gives me a sweet, sad smile and shakes his own head, like I've done something so silly.
“It's still in my jacket pocket,” I say, and Hudson digs around in the pile of discarded clothes until he finds it. Pulling it out, he reads it with a snort before handing it to me.
“You are such an asshole. Not only did you give her the necklace early, but you were writing her love notes before we were ready.”
I take the note I got the day of the perfect kiss in my shaking hands and glance down.
I'm falling for you.
-Whit
I look up with tears in my eyes. How could I have been so blinded by my own self-doubt? Scanning the limo with a new perspective, I meet each man's stunning eyes and what I see in each of them astounds me.
Love.
I see love.
They stare at me like they see me for me, not someone who can play the part of a fiancée, or a sexy plaything to fuck and leave behind, but someone to talk to. To protect. To keep warm on a frigid winter night. My heart flutters.
I wake up Christmas morning surrounded by five of the hottest men on earth—all of them my fiancés.
For real this time.
They warmed both my body and my heart last night, using their love and their own scalding flesh. I have never been happier than I am in this moment, naked save for the necklace Whit gave me and the engagement ring Gabe proposed to me with.
Jack gets up and slips on a robe.
“I'll be right back.”
I don't want him to go; the place where his hot flesh touched mine feels empty and cold without him. When he reappears, he's holding several presents and apparently, they're all for me.
“I can't accept these. I don't have anything to give the five of you in return,” I say.
“I already have everything I need, because the only thing my heart desires is you,” Jack says, handing me a small box.
I open it.
Inside are a pair of dainty diamond and white gold earrings. And I know they match the other two pieces. Jack slides the earrings out of the box, placing them in my ears with a gentle hand. Everywhere his skin touches my own
tingles.
“Mine next,” Hudson says snatching one of the presents from Jack's hands and passing it to me. I open the box, and inside this one is a matching hairpin. It's absolutely gorgeous and probably costs more than my car. Hudson isn't as sweet as Jack; he slips the hairpin in my hair then grabs me, giving me a scorching, lustful kiss. I'm wrapped in Colden's arms throughout the entire exchange, pressed against his hard body; he doesn't let go.
“Give it to her,” Colden says, but he doesn't remove his arms from around my waist. Jack hands another gift to me, and I open it, the last piece to a set. A stunning bracelet rests on a bed of blue velvet. Colden squeezes me tighter, like he's afraid to let me go. With a sigh, Jack pulls the bracelet from its box, and sensually pulls my arm toward himself. He wraps it around my wrist, clasping it. Before he releases me, he leans forward and gives me a soft kiss on my cheek.
Gabe picks up the last present and hands it to me.
“Who is this from?” I ask as I pinch my brow in confusion.
“Our father,” Hudson says as I pull the lid off the box and inside, is a mountain of paperwork.
“What is it?” I say, wrinkling my brow.
Gabe glances at it for a second.
“Our fucking punishment,” he snarls, rolling his eyes.
“I still don't understand,” I whisper.
“You are now the majority owner of NHI,” Jack says. “Dad thought you were honest and sweet and kind, and we're all just scoundrels taking advantage. Last night, the only way he would give his blessing is if we were so certain that we would gift our shared inheritance to you.”
“Wait, what?”
“Which means if Gabriel wants to work for NHI, he has to listen to you,” Hudson teases Gabe. I feel like I must be dreaming.
“This Christmas is almost perfect,” I say, snuggling just a tad closer to Colden. I think I'm still a little bit in shock at the situation. I almost died last night and now … I'm a billionaire? I just can't wrap my mind around it. All I want to do right now is cuddle up with these beautiful men.
“Almost?” Jack says.
“I wish my sister were here,” I say with a sigh. “I've never spent a Christmas without her.”
“Oh yeah, forgot to tell you because it was supposed to be a surprise. Lucia flew in really early this morning.”
That's when I hear the bedroom door open.
It's Lucia; I know it is. And I haven’t even heard her voice yet. No one else would just barge into my bedroom. I scramble to make sure everyone is decent, throwing blankets over any exposed bits.
“Get up, food's ready. I made all your favorites. I even made my homemade cinnamon rolls you love.” She finally rounds the corner and sees me lying in bed with my new fiancés and her eyes get huge. “This does not look like an emergency to me. In fact,” she eyes my new gifts, “getting frosted by five hot billionaires sounds like a very merry Christmas to me.”
I don't even bother to argue with her because she's right.
No wonder Christmas is my favorite season … anything is possible.
Anything.
Amanda Rose
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Flip the page for an excerpt of chapter one.
Chapter One
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the huge, empty kitchen as my wine slipped from my fingers and I choked over what I'd just heard. Clutching my phone to my ear, I took a breath before responding.
“It's going to cost me how much?” I needed to clarify because surely I'd just heard him wrong.
“Seventeen thousand, ma'am. And to be honest, that's a stretch. If we ran into any more unexpected problems along the way, that price would go up.” The man on the other end was so matter-of-fact about it. So uncaring that he was delivering such gut-wrenching news to me. “Look, I'm not going to fuck around on this. It's a seriously old house, and no one has touched that plumbing practically since the day it was installed. I just don't think I have the manpower to spare on a job like this right now.”
“But what am I supposed to do?” I hated the fact that my voice had just come out in a whimpering squeak, like a pathetic little girl. I was a tough bitch normally, but not having a toilet in the house was rough. For the last few days, I'd been walking three blocks to an antique store just to pee. “I can't live here without any plumbing, and I already gave up my apartment …”
Of course this guy didn't care about my problems. He didn't care that my grandmother had just died and left me her crumbling Victorian mansion, or that I had just spent nearly every cent to my name on her funeral. Truth was, I would have had to give up my apartment regardless, because I no longer had any way to pay my rent since I was fired from my job at the local coffee shop. They simply hadn't understood why I needed so much time off to care for my grandmother in her final weeks. It was kind of lucky, in that case, that Gram had left me this house or I really would have been out on the street.
“I'd usually tell you to sell it, but no one will buy it without working plumbing so you don't really have a choice here, ma'am.” The man was still speaking, oblivious to my descent into desperation, and I sucked in a shaking breath, swiping the dampness off my cheeks with the back of my hand.
“Can you recommend anyone else?” I asked politely, but my voice shook like a leaf in a blizzard. There wasn't anything quite so stressful as having toilets that didn't flush. “I'm not from around here so I don't know where else to find good plumbers.”
A long sigh came down the phone.
“Yeah, look, I'll put in a good word for you with my son and his friends. They're just starting out with their own business, so they've probably got the time free to take on a job like this. He might cut you a deal or a payment plan or something, but no guarantees. At least you'll know he learned from the best.”
“Oh, god that would be … fucking incredible!” Relief flooded over me. This plumbing needed fixing, but I was flat broke. The next door neighbor's tree roots had messed up all of the plumbing in Gram's mansion, meaning none of the taps, toilets or anything was working. It had been years since Gram had done any maintenance whatsoever, so who knew how bad the damage was?
“Don't thank me yet,” the man grunted, “these boys are known around these parts for having a bit of a wild streak. Personally, I wouldn't hire them—even with my son involved—but you're not exactly in a position to be picky so …”
“Uh, right.” Asshole, no need to rub it in. “So do you have a contact number for them?”
“No need. I'll let them know about the job and they can get in touch with you.” He sounded a bit reluctant, like he was already regretting his suggestion. Hopefully not because of how big this job was? Or maybe he was worried about those famed wild streaks?
But please. Plumbers? How crazy could they be? I imagined them all in their late forties with big bellies and butt cracks covered in wiry hair. No, thank you. How much action could they really be getting?
“Thank you so much, sir. I really appreciate it,” I gushed politely. Never hurt to have manners. More flies with honey and all that … Or wait, flies were actually more attracted to shit, huh? Which is what I was going to be ankle-deep in if I didn't get this plumbing fixed.
“Don't thank me yet,” he muttered, then disconnected our call.
Strange man. Fuck I need more wine.
I eyed the mess of glass and liquid on the tiled floor, then shrugged to myself and grabbed the bottle. No one else was here to judge me. Swi
gging straight from the bottle, I headed back into the living room to watch Pretty Little Liars, my guilty obsession.
Hey, it was better than the Maury Show, right?
But only by a little.
The obnoxious chiming of my grandmother's doorbell woke me, and I made a mental note to disconnect it. Or at least change the tune. My head was pounding and my eyelids felt like they were lined with sandpaper. Cracking one open, I spotted the empty bottle of wine on the carpet in front of my face; I must have passed out in front of the TV.
Groaning, I hauled myself off the couch when the doorbell played its cheery tune once more.
Who the fuck is at my door?
“Fuck me, I'm coming!” I yelled, not caring who I was snapping at. My hangover didn't discriminate. “What?” I slammed the front door open and was momentarily blinded by bright sunlight streaming in from behind my visitor.
“You must be Arizona,” a husky voice commented, and I blinked to clear the spots from my vision.
“Ari,” I corrected, “who the fuck are you?”
With my eyes adjusting to the light, I inspected my visitor, then blinked a couple more times in case my eyes were playing tricks on me.
The man on my doorstep stood well over six feet, with broad, lumberjack shoulders and rough stubble shading his jaw. His denim blue eyes, framed with lush black lashes, were laughing at me as they dragged a slow path all over my body. My skin seemed to ripple and react with the path of his gaze and I knew my nipples were standing out like headlights through the thin cotton of my tank top.
“Charlie told me you were in need of a plumber. I'm Shane, but everyone just calls me Skeeter …” He held out his hand for me to shake, and threw me a sexy wink.
“A plumber, right,” I said slowly, trying to blink through the haze of my hangover. Were his eyes really that blue or did I just have too much grape juice running through my veins to see clearly? I bit my lower lip and shifted slightly, wishing I was wearing more than just an oversized tank and boyshorts … or maybe less? I wasn't sure. Too much wine. “Please, come inside.”
Billionaires, Boarders, and Bastards: A Limited-Time Collection of Reverse Harem Romance Novellas Page 29