The Billionaire's Holiday Bride

by Nadia Lee

  “I understand Dane and Iain wanting to testify on her behalf, but Barron? I thought he hated to bother himself with things like this,” Ginger said.

  “Except it is absolutely worth his time,” Vanessa declared. “Besides, it’s a kind of christening gift. I told him I don’t want to raise my son in a world where men that vile walk around free. And he agreed.”

  “Thank you,” Sophia said sincerely. “Having someone like that on my side helps a lot.”

  “Don’t thank me. He would’ve done it even if I hadn’t asked. He’s very old-fashioned and proper. Despite his crazy high-handed ways, I actually like him. He can be oblivious at times, but he means well.”

  “Speaking of Barron…” Jane cleared her throat. “He called Iain yesterday.”

  Vanessa raised both of her eyebrows. “About?”

  “Our wedding.”

  “Did you invite him?”

  Jane shook her head. “No. I don’t know how he heard about it, but he said he’d love to help plan it. You know, with so little time and all.”

  “Oh my god, just say no,” Vanessa said. “You do not want him helping you out.”

  “Iain told him he’d talk with me first. Why does he want to help anyway? He and I barely know each other. Iain seemed a little confused by the offer, too.”

  Vanessa rolled her eyes. “He wants an excuse to come to L.A. At which point he’ll somehow finagle a way to stay at our place so he can spoil Ryan. He’ll probably bring Ethan and Kerri over too, ostensibly to ‘spend some time with Gavin and Amandine’.”

  “Aren’t Gavin and Ethan brothers?” Jane asked.

  “They are, but Barron basically wants an excuse to force everyone he’s related to into one city, so he can spoil two new babies.” Seeing Jane’s look of confusion, Vanessa added, “Kerri is Barron’s granddaughter, and she also just had a baby.”

  “Oh.”

  “Jane, seriously. I’ve heard too many horror stories about how everything had to be exactly to Barron’s satisfaction at Kerri’s wedding. That poor girl. If you want to keep your ceremony small, intimate and just for the family, politely decline. Or have Iain do it. That’s what he’s for.” Jane was so sweet and accommodating that Barron might just get his way. As much as Vanessa loved the curmudgeon, she did not want to live with him for the next couple of months.

  “Got it,” Jane said, looking slightly ill. “But he can’t plan the thing anyway. I already asked Ceinlys for help.”

  Vanessa gawked. “You did?”

  “Oh my goodness! Now that you mention it…” Ginger straightened, then leaned closer. “I saw her today on my way here. And guess who was with her?”

  “Her new boyfriend?” Vanessa said, scrunching her nose. It was probably only right that her mother find happiness with a new man, but it still felt oddly…improper. Vanessa had seen the fervent love letters between her parents. It seemed impossible that something so fervid could cool and change into what they had—or didn’t have—now. And that had been one of the reasons why Vanessa had fought so hard against being with Justin. She couldn’t be sure that what they felt wouldn’t change, the way her parents’ feelings for each other had.

  “No, Salazar!”

  Everyone’s incredulous gazes swung toward Ginger.

  “No way,” Vanessa breathed.

  “Oh wow. Are they…um…” Jane cleared her throat. “Dating?”

  “Are you sure?” This from Sophia.

  “I’m positive. It was his Aston Martin, too.”

  Vanessa shook her head, unable to believe what Ginger was saying. “So Dad picked Mom up?”

  “Well, that’s generally how a woman ends up in the passenger seat of a car driven by a man…”

  Sophia’s eyebrows pinched together. “What do you think it means?”

  “I have no clue,” Vanessa said, throwing a hand up in the air. “I officially give up trying to figure my parents out.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ceinlys stared straight ahead, not trying to look at Salazar. It wasn’t easy. She had never been able to “switch him off” and ignore him like she could other men. His piercing blue eyes hadn’t lost their intensity. As a matter of fact, the years seemed to have made them sharper and more focused. The smooth skin stretched tightly over the harshly carved planes of his face, and if it weren’t for the hints of silver at his temples, most people would never guess he was a grandfather. The shadows and angles were sharper from weight loss, but there was a ropey strength to him that said he still took care of himself.

  It was grossly unfair that he’d never developed a paunch or liver spots or…just aged badly in general. He even smelled like he used to—clean and fresh, with a hint of spicy cologne.

  No wonder women barely half his age flocked to him. Even if he weren’t filthy rich, he would still be desirable.

  And now he was free to do whatever he wanted…not that being married had ever stopped him.

  Ceinlys sighed inwardly. She should’ve been thinking more clearly. If she had, she would’ve at least:

  One. Not mentioned Wes’s budget for the wedding.

  Two. Not brought up the grove, but waited until later to call Kimberly.

  Three. Driven her own car.

  If she’d had her car, she wouldn’t be clenching her jaw in an effort to sit utterly still, doing her best to ignore the goose bumps along her skin. She would like to have blamed the air-conditioning, but it wasn’t even set that high. Obviously, Salazar remembered that she didn’t like cold air blowing on her face.

  No. It was him, sitting next to her. God, when was the last time they’d sat in silence for so long? Or they’d driven somewhere together?

  “You know, I really need to speak to a florist,” she said finally. “We didn’t have to go to the grove today.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  She looked out the window and said nothing. He returned his attention to driving.

  Less than ten minutes later the car reached the grove’s parking lot. It was adjacent to the three-story main house, which was made entirely of stones the color of bleached bones.

  Or what should’ve been a three-story house. A big chunk of it was missing, as though a giant had punched through it. Several thick plastic sheets covered the hole and masked whatever damage lay inside.

  “What happened?” she asked, her words barely above a whisper.

  “An incident.”

  “It looks like a train ran into it.”

  “Close. A semi came barreling through the grove and slammed into the house. Thankfully, nobody was hurt…including the driver who’d fallen asleep at the wheel.”

  “My goodness.”

  “He was speeding at the time, with a lead foot on the accelerator. Apparently the man believed he could sleep and drive, but in his panic, he hit the wrong pedal.” Salazar’s lips twisted into that haughty sneer.

  Ceinlys looked around. Now that she knew about the “incident”, it was clear where the truck had come through. There was a swath cut from the grove, the small citrus trees splintered and broken in a wavering line that led back to the highway. The wreckage cut through the picnic area with the manmade lake as well; the ground had been lacerated by twin black tire tracks riven deep into the grass.

  The sight of mangled lime trees, crushed flowers and Osiria rose bushes sent a painful pang through her. This was where she’d finally admitted to herself that she loved Salazar…and later accepted his proposal.

  “When did this happen?”

  “Earlier in the week.” He watched her, his gaze unreadable. “The insurance companies and lawyers are talking.”

  Which meant the attorneys on retainer for the Pryce family were going to squeeze the other parties until they bled. “How long is it going to take to repair?”

  * * *

  Salazar had only glanced at the reports. Seeing the destruction firsthand made it worse. This was where he’d brought Ceinlys numerous times, to woo and finally propose to. Perhaps it was fitting the plac
e lay in ruins. “I don’t know. I don’t have time to supervise the crew.”

  “Aren’t you going to hire a general contractor?” Ceinlys asked.

  “Probably, but you know how they are.”

  Her brow creased. “Actually, I don’t.”

  “They need a lot of guidance.” He didn’t trust most of them to do anything to his satisfaction. The grove had stayed in his family for generations.

  “Salazar, the grove must be restored.”

  “For Iain and Jane’s wedding?” He snorted, although he didn’t feel like snorting. “It’d be cheaper and more economical to find another venue. If you want free, do it in one of our—the family’s—beach homes overseas.”

  “I did consider that, but it will be too difficult to coordinate everything with only two months left.”

  Irritation bubbled inside him. “Maybe Iain and Jane should’ve thought about that before foisting this on you. You aren’t their servant.”

  “I am his mother.”

  Salazar glared at the damage to the grove. “Well, they aren’t treating you like one, are they? If Iain wants a cheap wedding, he can do the work.”

  “It’s not him. It’s Jane’s father.”

  “Then let him do it.”

  “Don’t be petty. He wants to do this for his daughter.”

  “By making you do all the work? If the man’s too poor to pay for a venue, I’ll foot the bill.”

  She stopped, then stared at him. “Why are you objecting? You know you’re going to restore the grove, and I know how you can be when you put your mind to it.”

  “So?”

  “You can’t leave it in ruins.”

  “I don’t plan to. It’ll be restored at some point, but I’m not interested in rushing the job just to please some guy in another state who doesn’t understand when he needs to let something go.” To repair everything on time, Salazar would have to personally supervise, but he didn’t want to get involved in a place where the old memories would haunt him. No. He’d just wait for a dependable general contractor to become available, then perhaps put Dane in charge. His first-born was exacting enough to make it happen, especially since Shirley had loved the grove so much. He’d adored his grandmother. “Don’t look at me like that. It isn’t my fault Jane’s father insists on paying for the wedding. Twenty thousand. What the hell? Can you even get a decent bouquet for that much?”

  Flush colored Ceinlys’s cheeks. “Just listen to yourself. Not everyone needs a million-dollar wedding, Salazar.”

  He felt his face heat as though she’d slapped him. He’d spared no expense for their wedding because he’d wanted to give her everything.

  She continued, “The only thing Iain cares about is making his bride happy.”

  That’s all I cared about, too. He’d thought he loved her, and that she loved him back. And it hurt so much to listen to her talk, like Iain’s feelings and intentions were so noble and worthy. If she found them that admirable, she could’ve just fucking loved Salazar back then, rather than telling her friend she’d married him for money.

  He steeled his voice. “Then perhaps he should’ve found a girl more befitting his station in life, not some penniless waif he picked up in a D.C. suburb.”

  Just like Salazar should’ve found someone more compatible with him, not the most dazzling woman he’d ever seen in his life, who became the center of his universe that everything else orbited around.

  Her face paled, then she tightened her jaw. “I see. Well. You are welcome to try talking some sense into him. In the meantime, I shall begin work on the grove myself.”

  “We haven’t settled things with the insurance company yet.”

  “I don’t care about the insurance company’s money. I’ll use my own.”

  He narrowed his eyes. The funds he’d given her as part of the divorce settlement.

  “You aren’t getting any piece of the grove,” he warned her.

  She gave him a withering look. “If you want, I’ll sign a contract to that effect.” She tilted her head in that stubborn way. “Now, take me back to the city.”

  Chapter Eight

  Hilary Rosenberg Pryce finished drafting the last executive memo for Gavin Lloyd—her boss—and raised an eyebrow when her phone beeped with a text. It was a quarter after noon, and she’d told Mark she would be working until around one. Granted it was a Saturday and she knew Mark wanted to spend some time together, but the work was critical. Billions of retiree dollars were at stake. Despite people’s assumption that Gavin’s clients were mostly the idle rich, his firm also managed multiple pension funds.

  After taking a sip of coffee from a mug that read A WOMAN WORTH HER WEIGHT IN GOLD, she reached for her phone to check the message with a smile. Maybe she should ask Mark to be patient with a promise of something very naughty later that night.

  Her smile slipped when she saw it was a text from her mother-in-law, Ceinlys. The impossibly elegant older woman had acted with polite warmth toward Hilary ever since the engagement, but it was difficult for Hilary to forget how systematically Ceinlys had tried to ruin her life.

  Still… Mark loved his mother, and for him, Hilary would try to love Ceinlys as well.

  Please call when you have some time.

  Hilary shut down her laptop and dialed Ceinlys’s number. She was not the kind of person you put off and hoped for the best. Even though she hadn’t come from a moneyed background, she had an almost royal ability to cut just about anyone with a word or a look.

  “Thank you for getting back to me, Hilary,” came Ceinlys’s modulated tone. Unlike before, there was the barest hint of warmth in the voice.

  “I just got your text. Is everything all right?”

  “Of course. I was calling to ask about a good general contractor who can do some restoration work at the grove.”

  “What happened?”

  “A small incident.” Ceinlys didn’t elaborate. Typical. “I know Gavin hired someone when he added that studio to his place.”

  “Yes, he did.” And Hilary had been tasked with selecting the best one out of the candidates. She’d had a great motivator to make sure whoever she’d picked out was excellent. Gavin had zero patience for people who couldn’t do their job well, and when he got frustrated he’d ask Hilary to deal with it.

  “If you could let me know who that was, I’d appreciate it.” Ceinlys paused. “It’s very important.”

  Hilary frowned. Just what had happened to the grove, and why would Ceinlys care? Along with all the other property, it had remained with the Pryce family after the divorce. The only thing Ceinlys had gotten was money. “Let me check and text you the information. Is that all right?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  After they hung up, Hilary dumped her laptop and phone into her bag and went home—Mark’s penthouse wasn’t far from Gavin’s office. Once a typical bachelor pad, it now had a homey feel with both their things—their photos, the souvenirs from their trips together. It was amazing how quickly his place had become theirs.

  Mark raised his head from his phone, placing the gadget on the table. “You’re home early.” He grinned. “Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?”

  “Of course not.” She kissed him as she dropped her bag on the couch. His lips felt warm and firm, and she couldn’t stop delicious shivers running down her back or prevent herself from running her fingers through his thick, dark hair. There were times she still couldn’t believe he was hers. He was simply too perfect a man, too sweet, too devoted. Maybe he was fate’s way of apologizing for her hellish childhood and youth. Or maybe she was just damn lucky. “Productive morning?”

  “Yes, and I got you something from André.” He produced a takeout bag from Éternité. The haute cuisine restaurant didn’t do takeout orders, but he was the boss, so he almost always got what he wanted, provided the executive chef—André—didn’t object. Mark poured her a glass of chilled dry Riesling, her favorite.

  “Mmm, nice,” she said. “Thank you. I’m st
arving. I skipped lunch.”

  “You shouldn’t have.”

  She smiled. He seemed to love her body even though she wasn’t super slim like his exes. When she’d tried to diet for the wedding, he’d said, “If I wanted a skinny chick, I would’ve married one. You’re the one I want, and I love you just the way you are.”

  You just couldn’t do better than a man like that.

  They sat on the couch and he arranged the lunch containers. He pulled her closer as she started munching on seared yellow-fin tuna. It had some kind of creamy but light sauce that lent a refreshing aftertaste.

  She sighed. “This is so good.”

  He buried his face in her neck and inhaled. “You really need to take better care of yourself. Tell Gavin you quit.”

  “Do you really want to leave your best friend in the lurch?”

  “Then he can make you work less,” he groused. “It’s unfair that you work weekdays and weekends.”

  “I haven’t worked a weekend in months.”

  “Except today…”

  She laid her head on his shoulder. “By the way, your mother texted me.”

  His muscles tensed underneath her cheek. “For what?”

  “She wants a general contractor.” Hilary tapped her lower lip with her fork. “I’m not sure why. She mentioned something about an incident at the grove, but…” She twisted around so she could face Mark. “Have you heard anything?”

  “Nope, but I can ask.”

  “I wonder why she wants to work on the grove. I thought she was moving away.”

  “She is, but Iain said she isn’t leaving until next year. Apparently she’s volunteered to help Jane plan the wedding.”

  Hilary gasped. “Wow. That’s unusual.” She couldn’t imagine Ceinlys volunteering weeks of her time to help anybody. On the other hand, she did love her children. So maybe she was doing it more for Iain than Jane. “It’s going to cost Iain.” Ceinlys had expensive taste.