The Billionaire’s Christmas Vows: A Jet City Billionaire Christmas Romance

by Gina Robinson

  Oh, crap. He probably had a beautiful surprise gift for me and was going to give it to me in some romantic way.

  "So if we change up the way things have been done in the past, that would be okay with you?" Maybe I wasn't exactly fighting fair here. But I was desperate.

  His face lit up. "What do you mean?"

  "Like start new traditions," I said. "Our own traditions."

  "Absolutely! I'm all for new traditions. Especially if they make you happy."

  He was so enthusiastic. I didn't want to spoil it by going into details just now. "You haven't answered my question."

  He thought for a minute while I stared at him, wondering how I'd been so lucky to be thrown into a fake marriage with him.

  He cupped my face gently. "I want something only you can give me. Your love. Your loyalty. Your friendship."

  My heart beat with joy. I was on the right track. I was going to give him exactly what he wanted.

  "I give that to you every day," I said. "I love you."

  "And I never take it for granted. Just keep on loving me, and I'm good."

  Friday, December 5th

  Kayla

  By Friday, I was in a state of sublime happiness. I had convinced Jus we needed to hire a temp to deal with the flood of Christmas wishes coming in. I'd decided on a small town on the Hudson River outside of New York City to get married in. It was perfect. On the Hudson River. Quaint and scenic. A small international airport was nearby.

  There was no point trying to fly into New York City on one of the busiest travel days of the year and get to the Office of the City Clerk of New York through traffic. That was madness.

  Harry called. He'd found a clergyman from the little town to marry us. One who waved all premarital counseling. Since we were married already, it only made sense. His name was Pastor James Brown. He believed in love enough to perform a ceremony on Christmas Eve, and yet required that essential second license.

  I liked him already. He had a certain amount of essential cynicism. For a nominal fee, he would perform the ceremony at the quaint, picturesque wedding chapel I'd found, and booked, on the river. I had it for the entire day. Not that I needed if for more than about an hour, if that.

  It looked lovely in the pictures. I hoped it lived up to its online hype as a beautiful venue for intimate winter weddings. However it turned out, it couldn't be any tackier than where Jus had supposedly married me in the first place.

  I didn't want a reputation for getting married in blatantly tasteless settings time and again. However, beggars couldn't be choosers, especially at this late date. With all the Christmas travellers and celebrations, I was lucky to find any venue available at all. Then again, I'd been willing to pay a premium price.

  I'd found a florist and ordered a bouquet and two boutonnieres to be delivered to the chapel. Jus was colorblind and couldn't see most shades of pink. But he was good with deep red. The red and white Christmas roses I ordered would be perfect.

  I was having a cake flown in from a top bakery in New York City. Christmas themed. Single tier. White cake with raspberry filling. Justin's favorite. White fondant icing with delicate, intricate scrollwork, and red gum-paste roses and poinsettias crafted by an artist to look positively real. Also delivered to the chapel. Along with a bottle of the best champagne available. For a bridal toast.

  Ordering a cake was probably over the top. We weren't having a reception. But I dreamed of cutting the cake with my groom and feeding Jus that first bite.

  When I checked in with Harry, he said we should have our waiver by the end of next week. Jus had a tux that would be perfect to be married in. Now I just needed a dress and shoes…

  All these lovely winter wedding thoughts were still bouncing through my mind like happy wishes for Santa when Jus and I boarded Riggins' yacht for the Christmas Ship Parade that evening.

  We made our way to the lower deck. Jus tucked me in his arms. We were soon parading around Lake Washington in the middle of a Christmas ship flotilla.

  When had "parading around" become an insult? As in "stop parading around!" Which had been a favorite of my mom when I was little.

  This parading was merry and jolly, totally in the spirit of the season. Riggins had equipped his yacht with a powerful, clear sound system and mics, and a top-of-the-line karaoke system. He and Jus and a couple of the other guys from Flash loved to sing. Once a month, they sang karaoke at a local pub during the Flash employees' happy hour.

  Riggins had also amply stocked the booze for this cruise. After the stress of the past week, everyone needed to let off steam and relax. And speaking of steam, every guest had a steaming hot cocktail of their choice—a hot buttered rum, a hot toddy, maybe an Irish coffee, or a Tom and Jerry.

  I loved Tom and Jerrys. They reminded me of my grandpa. But Riggins talked me into an English Bishop, a traditional British hot cocktail made with port, orange, and cloves. Riggins was half British. He insisted I try it, saying it was Scrooge's favorite drink. The reformed Scrooge who woke after the last spirit left.

  I was off hard alcohol for the duration. But a few sips of wine were fine.

  The lead ship in this parade was a local dinner cruise ship equipped with a sound system and a professional choir who belted out traditional, choir-ish music at every stop and in between. The music was beautiful. And a little sedate if you were in the partying mood.

  The boats in the flotilla spanned the range from just a step up from rowboat to the large cruise ship, but from smallest to largest, they were all elaborately decorated.

  Riggins had spared no expense for his decorations. Every line of his yacht was trimmed with lights programmed to put on a light show timed to music. As the choir sang, they were rather serenely humming along in patient slow motion. A large wireframe tree with a sparkling star on top was in the middle of the lower deck.

  The night was clear. The moon was out. And despite the wakes from the other boats, the lake was nearly as smooth as glass. Dark and bottomless and reflecting the moon in silver shimmers.

  Sound carried so well at night across the water, we almost didn't need our speakers. The carols swept across to the shores as we cruised past Coulon Park packed with people waiting to see the ship parade. Past the Clam Lights put on by Ivar's, a fabulous lights display complete with tall wireframe running clams with legs. Past lakefront houses where homeowners gathered on their lawns and docks with mugs of steaming beverages and waved and caroled back to us.

  In December in Seattle, you couldn't depend on nice weather. Certainly not on clear weather. But tonight was perfect. Forty-five degrees and calm. Peace on earth, at least weather-wise.

  If you haven't experienced Christmas caroling like this, it's hard to understand the fun and sense of kindred spirit with the other boats and the people onshore. Everyone was in a merry mood, laughing and shouting between boats. Waving. Singing.

  I was warm and toasty in my red Christmas sweater with the faux-fur collar and matching hat and gloves, wrapped in Justin's arms. And, of course, I had the little baby heat engine inside me to warm me up from the inside out.

  I was so incredibly happy Justin had taken the night off. After the port closed, I'd been worried Riggins would cancel the outing. Now I was grateful for him for insisting that the party must go on. The entire top brass of Flash was out on the boat. So who was manning the store? Brave of them to all abandon store for ship.

  Jus snuggled into me from behind, singing commandingly and beautifully. I lost myself in his deep, sexy, beautiful voice. He had a way of infusing the music with passion that swept me away.

  Next to us, Riggins flashed Jus a look of exasperation as the choir broke into yet another slow carol. Clearly, he wanted to party.

  Jus leaned down and whispered, "I don't hear you singing."

  "You know I don't sing. I hope the baby gets your talent." I took a sip of my Bishop and leaned my head back against his chest.

  "You sang to me once."

  I smiled up at him. "Only becaus
e it was a desperate situation."

  We motored around the lake in dark mode, following the lead ship, lights off except for Christmas lights. When our Christmas ship parade tour of the lake was over, Riggins pulled up in front of his lakefront mansion and dropped anchor offshore away from the dock.

  He turned to Jus. "Let's give my neighbors a show, people."

  "Who are we serenading?" one of the guys said. "There's no one out here, Riggins."

  Riggins shook his head. "If we sing, they will come. I promised them we'd carol for them again this year. I don't go back on my word." He laughed. "'Jingle Bells,' everyone. Jack, hit the speakers and the music."

  He handed Jus a mic. "Justin and I will lead. On three! One, two, three!"

  We broke into a rowdy, jazzy version, accompanied by the karaoke music in the background.

  Riggins kept singing and turning up the volume until one by one neighbor after neighbor appeared until he had a crowd. They applauded and raised their glasses to us from shore. Jus and Riggins were high on the thrill of performing, and hammed it up.

  "Okay, that's it, people. Show's over!" Riggins finally said. "Merry Christmas! Happy holidays! Thanks for coming. We appreciate your support!" He saluted the crowd. "Hit the lights! Let's get this party started."

  The appetizers and booze started flowing. Riggins fired up the karaoke. The sounds of a jazzy Christmas filled the air.

  Riggins had hired a caterer and a bartender. And a professional captain to pilot the boat. Leaving Riggins free to imbibe Christmas cocktails to his heart's content, both warm and chilled.

  I angled to get him alone so I could speak to him while he was in a warm, happy holiday mood.

  Justin's friend and mentor, Lazer Grayson, came over to congratulation him. "That was an even better performance by you and Riggins than last year."

  "Yeah. We've been practicing. Long hours at the office," Jus said. "We had to do something to combat fatigue."

  "Singing invigorates you, obviously," Lazer said.

  "That and half a dozen energy drinks kept me going forty-eight hours straight," Jus said.

  I shuddered at the thought.

  "How are things going with the port? Any word on when the strike will end…"

  This could be a long conversation, I thought.

  I tapped Jus on the arm and motioned that I was going to the head. A convenient excuse. With the baby jumping on my bladder, I was constantly going to the little girls' room.

  I slipped away and cornered Riggins. Christmas music was blasting, making confidential conversation impossible. I grabbed his arm and shouted in his ear, "Can I have a word? In private."

  He took my arm. "This way."

  As he led me up the stairs to the upper deck, he shouted and pointed above our heads. A ball of mistletoe hung above us. "I hope no one gets the wrong idea."

  "Justin's not the jealous type." I kissed Riggins lightly on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Riggins."

  He laughed.

  Riggins had the looks, charm, and charisma that made women notice him everywhere he went.

  "Everyone gets the wrong idea all the time," I said without a hint of flirt in my voice. "It goes with the territory of being in the spotlight." I rubbed my baby bump. "This pretty much guarantees people won't talk. Who would sneak away with an obviously pregnant woman?"

  Riggins smiled. "You're still beautiful, Kayla."

  "That's sweet of you to say. And prudent. If you'd told me I'm glowing, I'd have had to cause a scene," I said. "This time of year, glowing is only for reindeers' noses."

  "And drunks," Riggins said. "So what's up?"

  I looked around to make sure no one would overhear, and leaned in and whispered to him, "Justin needs Christmas Eve off. All of Christmas Eve. Not just a half-day. And all of the night of the 23rd."

  "Oh?" Riggins looked intrigued. "I'm not his boss. We're partners. I don't have any say—"

  "I think you do," I said, flattering him. "You have plenty of influence over him. If you suggest it, encourage him to take the time off, and cover for him, he'll fall happily into my evil plan to whisk him away for a few days."

  Riggins laughed. "Evil plan? On December 23rd? Daredevil. You're not worried about being on Santa's naughty list?"

  "Mark my words, I plan to be on his naughty list." I winked at Riggins.

  His eyes sparkled, reflecting the Christmas lights around us. "Lucky Justin."

  "I want my husband back for at least a few days during the holidays." At the thought of my wedding, happiness bubbled up. I didn't see any reason to hide my joy. "I've planned a special surprise getaway for him and me. I need your help pulling it off."

  "A surprise?" Riggins got a funny look on his face. "I'm not a fan of surprises. They backfire too often."

  "Now who's being a killjoy?" I teased. "I thought you had more adventure in you." I paused. "I'm not asking much from you. Just keep it a secret. And I would really appreciate it if you'd take over the gift-giving duties at the hospital Christmas Eve. And running the company party the morning of the 24th."

  I grabbed Riggins' arm and implored him with my pitiful, frail pregnant woman look. "This is our first Christmas together. I really want to make it special before Jus and I become parents."

  I batted my eyes at Riggins shamelessly and exaggeratedly. "This would mean a lot to me," I said in a singsong tone. "I'd owe you big time. What if I promise Jus will take New Year's Eve duty. If he can have Christmas Eve—"

  Riggins stared at me.

  I was losing him. "What?" I said. "What's wrong?"

  "I have a condition." He seemed almost amused.

  I dropped his arm and put my on my negotiating face. "Name it."

  "I'll do everything you ask, but—"

  "Damn! I hate buts," I said. "They're always harbingers of doom."

  "But," Riggins continued, "you have to tell him about this 'surprise' as soon as possible."

  "That's an impossible condition." I put my hands on my nearly nonexistent hips to let him know I meant business. They'd melded with my waist and my baby bump. "If I tell him, it won't be a surprise, then, will it, wise guy."

  Riggins shrugged. "Sorry. It's a deal breaker for me if you don't." He turned like he was done and ready to go back to the lower deck.

  I caught his arm again. "Wait!"

  He paused.

  "What do you know? Why is it so important that I tell Jus?"

  "So he can be prepared. I told you, I don't like surprises. I refuse to be part of one. Especially at Christmas." He smiled at me. "Believe me. Justin will be much happier knowing about your plans in advance."

  Riggins was a fierce negotiator. I read people pretty well. I could tell he wasn't going to budge on this one.

  "All right," I said, and stuck out my hand. "Deal."

  He grinned that grin people get when they've pulled one over on you and shook my hand. "Deal. The sooner you tell him, the better. If he doesn't know by"—he glanced at a calendar on his phone—"December 15th, the deal's off."

  "Fine." I shrugged like I didn't care and that I hadn't just had my negotiating head handed to me on a Christmas platter. "I have half a mind to cancel the Santa I've already hired to help you at the children's hospital."

  His answering laugh was as hearty and rich as the Ghost of Christmas Present.

  There was a gap between songs. Suddenly, Jus was crooning "Winter Wonderland."

  "That's my cue," I said to Riggins. "He's singing my song. I'd better join him." I pointed my finger at Riggins. "Don't you say a word to him until I tell him about the surprise."

  I came down the steps from the upper deck just as Jus looked up. Then—yes, I could be a ham—I danced across the deck into his arms and swayed with him to the music as he looked deep into my eyes and sang to me.

  Crazily, the clergyman Harry had found was named Brown. I wondered if he would he let us call him parson?

  Justin

  Riggins pulled me aside as we got off the yacht. "Have you given
those Nutcracker Ballet tickets to Kayla yet?"

  I frowned. "No. Not yet. Why?"

  "A word to the wise—do it soon, will you?"

  "Why?" I frowned.

  "Soon. Trust me." He winked and walked off humming "Joy to the World."

  Chapter Eight

  Friday, December 12th

  Kayla

  Planning a clandestine wedding was not the easiest task to begin with. Not when you were married to, and marrying, a billionaire, a minor celebrity of sorts whose every move was of interest to both the local and national media. Which was why I had booked the wedding chapel under my maiden name, Lucas. Fortunately, a common enough last name to avoid suspicion or a connection to Jus. And my first initial only. And paid the deposit using my old single-girl bank account. Same with the florist.

  Harry had sworn Pastor Brown to secrecy, in the form of a legal nondisclosure agreement. Standard operating procedure? Definitely not. But what was standard about our marriage? The uniqueness of it was part of the beauty of it, right? Our wedding and marriage were as inimitable as our love. That sounded romantic, didn't it?

  Our wedding records would not be published as part of the public record. Even so, I was getting twitchy with worry that somehow news would slip out. Thanks a lot for that, Harry. The thing was, I didn't need a fancy wedding so much as I just wanted to get married. Was that so much to ask? Apparently, it was.

  I would have married Jus at the airport, if that had been at all feasible.

  At one point, I even panicked, and looked up whether an airline captain could marry us. So what if we just flew over New York airspace, got married, and flew right back to Seattle? Would that count as legal?

  Unfortunately, the main answer I found seemed to be "no." Airline pilots could not. Not unless they were also a licensed celebrant of New York. Ha! I liked that word, used on many wedding websites, way better than officiant. Much happier and joyful. And even then, I wondered if just being in New York airspace would be enough.

  The last thing I wanted, or needed, was another questionably legal marriage. And just try to find a private business jet pilot licensed to perform marriages in New York and who required a second license before he or she would perform the ceremony. If that didn't raise a few eyebrows, what would? And, who, exactly, would be flying the plane during the ceremony? Would the pilot conduct it from the cockpit?