The Billionaire's Holiday Obsession

by Nadia Lee

  “Are you sure?”

  “Everything in the room is for guest use. So feel free. And I don’t know if you had dinner or not, but if you want, there’s plenty of stuff in the fridge. I’m afraid you’ll have to heat most of it. I can barely boil water without burning down the house.”

  Jane finally relaxed enough to smile. “Not a problem.” She had cooked for—and cleaned up after—five brothers and her father. Nuking a bunch of leftovers was nothing. “Thank you,” she said, touched by Elizabeth’s kindness. “Really.”

  “Oh, please. It’s about time someone made use of this room. Come on down whenever you’re ready. Or if you just want to crash for the night, that’s fine too.” Elizabeth twiddled her fingers in a kind of wave and left.

  Jane felt like this was all a dream. How else could she be in a suite full of luxury that was probably worth more than what she could make in a lifetime? And she couldn’t understand why Elizabeth had welcomed her easily into her home. She didn’t know who Jane was. Ditto for Iain.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, soft enough to be made of feathers, and hugged her duffel bag. She felt like an intruder. Everything her bags contained would make her stand out like a sore thumb in this beautiful home, and that bothered her. She was twenty-six years old. She should be on a track to somewhere in life, not in a new city and barely scraping by.

  Finally, she allowed a tear to fall.

  * * *

  Downstairs in the dining room, Iain poured himself a finger of brandy and downed it in one swallow. The liquor burned sweetly in his throat and belly.

  The house didn’t have the type of open floor plan that was so popular these days, since Elizabeth preferred some privacy when her staff was around. Still, none of the rooms felt claustrophobic. Her interior decorator had done a good job.

  The first level felt larger and airier without Jane. She was sort of…cluttery. And there was something about her that upset Iain’s equilibrium, which didn’t make any sense. The wall he’d built around himself in the last thirteen years was impenetrable, not a flaw or weakness anywhere. But her presence made his skin prickle, and he felt restless and edgy. It was like she was right outside the wall, starting to worry it with a small chisel.

  Yeah, right. She was nice enough looking, but not especially beautiful compared to women he usually dated. She had delicate features and expressive brown eyes, but he’d had actresses and models on his arm, and he hated anybody who didn’t laugh easily…and then leave even more easily when their time was up. So what gives?

  Elizabeth returned a few minutes later and joined him at the dining table. She had a bemused expression on her face, and she gave Iain a sly look. “Okay, you have to tell me where you found her.”

  “Why? Did she try to steal your towels?”

  She laughed. “Hardly. She was stunned that she could use whatever she wanted in the room.” She leaned closer. “New girlfriend?”

  “No. I just happened to run into her in the city.”

  “Really?” she drawled.

  “Yup.”

  “You’re a terrible liar. You never pick up strange women.” She lowered her voice. “And not ones like her. You like the pretty, easy type who spends too much money on her hair, makeup and outfits. Jane looks a little deeper than that. Complicated, maybe. But in a good way.”

  He helped himself to a little more of the brandy. “Complications are never good.” Jane wasn’t just complicated. From the way his skin still felt tight and prickly, it was obvious she was trouble. He never ignored his gut feelings. “I’m going to drop her off at her car tomorrow.”

  “Her car? Is there something wrong with it?”

  Iain sighed. He should’ve just stayed at a hotel in D.C. Elizabeth was too good at reading between the lines. “Not drivable.”

  “So how is it going to be magically drivable tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know, but at least it won’t be dark. She can call someone and get the thing repaired.” If it was worth spending any money on. The thing looked older than Jane.

  “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m just thinking.”

  Iain sighed. “Do you think I should’ve just left her with her car?”

  “I don’t know. Was it an easy fix?”

  “Doubt it. Somebody spray-painted a nasty slur on the windshield and slashed her tires.”

  Her eyes widened. “A stalker?” She had her share of delusional and aggressive admirers.

  “Maybe. It’s none of my business.”

  “So why did you bring her here?”

  She looked at me with eyes full of pain and pride. And something about her dredged up all the emotions that used to clutter his mind. “I kind of…got lost. And she knew how to get here. I didn’t particularly enjoy being in the seedy section of D.C.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Like you could get into trouble you can’t get out of. I’ve seen your moves.” She made a chopping motion.

  Iain rolled his eyes and sighed. “You know I don’t do mixed martial arts anymore.”

  “So? It’s not like you don’t practice. I heard from Vanessa that you’re trying to be Jet Li.”

  He drank some more. Nobody except his father and his brother Mark knew why he’d quit, and he wasn’t telling Elizabeth.

  She continued, “I know you’re like the super zen aikido master now, but I’m sure you haven’t forgotten all your MMA moves.”

  “Someone could just shoot me. Bullets are hard to block.”

  A small frown creased her forehead. “You’re a little grouchy today. Did something happen with your friends?”

  “Nothing. They’re great.” Doing better than him actually. “Look, I’m going to bed.” If Elizabeth was noticing a change in his temper, it was time for a little light meditation. Maybe that—and some sleep—would restore his mental fortitude and clear his head. All the excessive things in Elizabeth’s living and dining rooms was screwing up his normally perfect equilibrium. The whole house was a jumble of…stuff.

  “Fine. If you want to talk, you know where I am.”

  He gave her his signature easy grin. “Of course I do.” He kissed her on the top of her head as he left. “Try not to stay up too late speculating.”

  * * *

  A sharp hunger pang twisted in her belly, and Jane opened her eyes. Darn it, she should’ve eaten something before going to bed, but she’d felt awkward about going down there while Iain and Elizabeth were talking and doing whatever couples did in a house this nice.

  She looked at the clock by the nightstand. Two a.m. Probably everyone was asleep now. She got up and padded barefoot to her bedroom door. It felt amazing to be squeaky clean—nothing like a hot shower and good soap to wash away a coat of grime.

  Maybe a sandwich was in order. She hadn’t had any decent food since the day before yesterday when she’d treated herself to a hot dog. It wasn’t easy to eat regularly when you were living in a car and had no money. So far she’d avoided dumpster diving, but…

  She crept barefoot across the butter smooth floor in the hall. Discreet lights at ankle height provided enough illumination to see. The ceilings were high, and the place smelled like fresh flowers, wax and money.

  Elizabeth’s kitchen was amazing—spacious and airy, with appliances that gleamed even in the faint light and granite countertops. Numerous pots and pans hung from hooks, all of them either copper or multi-ply stainless steel. Jane opened the fridge, squinting and feeling like an intruder, but Elizabeth had seemed sincere when she’d told her to help herself. It was full of eggs, cheese, meat, fruit and veggies. Everything was organic and free-range. Jane saw the price-tag on the beef and gasped. There was barely one serving in the package. For that kind of money, she could feed her entire family for two days.

  Jane hesitated, wondering if she should really help herself. As she stared at the food, she started to feel light-headed. That decided things.

  She found a plate and some bread and made herself a roast-be
ef sandwich. She moaned at the rich flavor and resisted the instinct to gobble it down.

  Suddenly, her stomach twisted, and she dropped the rest of the sandwich on her plate. Guess she hadn’t eaten slowly enough. She braced herself against the table and clenched her teeth. She wasn’t losing the first real meal she’d had in days.

  She staggered to the fridge, poured herself a Coke and waited until the carbonated beverage worked its magic. Finally, when her stomach settled somewhat, she ate the rest of her food. Slowly.

  When she was finished, she rinsed her plate and cup and put them in the dishwasher. Even it looked sleek and sophisticated like Elizabeth. What would it be like to live in a house like this?

  One day, she told herself as she took a final look around. One day, she’d be successful, with a nice home and a secure future. She’d show her skeptical family and townspeople that she was somebody.

  Chapter Three

  Early the next day, Jane went back to the kitchen. It was barely six, and nobody seemed to be up. The silence was so complete that she tiptoed around, unwilling to make any noise. The house looked even more imposing and moneyed in daylight. She remembered Elizabeth saying Rebecca was off, and Jane was pretty sure the mysterious Rebecca was the housekeeper.

  Jane pulled out several eggs, sausages and a few slices of crusty whole-wheat bread and then paused. Would it be presumptuous to make breakfast for everyone? She honestly didn’t know how else to pay them back for their generosity in letting her stay at this amazing house. Iain didn’t have to help her out at all. As a matter of fact, it looked like he hadn’t really wanted to do it for whatever reason, just like she hadn’t been overeager to accept his offer. Regardless, Jane owed him—and Elizabeth—one.

  “Hey, what are you doing there?” came a gruff voice. It was Iain. His eyes were heavy-lidded from lingering sleep, and he hadn’t shaved. It added to his aura of male mystique and gave him an element of danger. He wore nothing but a white sweatshirt and faded jeans. The simplicity of his outfit seemed to bring out his masculinity.

  “Oh. Hi. I was thinking about making breakfast.”

  Iain stared at the food on the counter. “You must like it hearty.”

  She choked back a laugh. “No. It’s for everyone, if you don’t mind eggs and sausages.”

  “Who objects to eggs and sausages?” Iain took a stool, hooking his narrow feet around the bottom rung. “But I didn’t bring you here to act as a maid. We can eat out. I’m sure Elizabeth knows a few good places.”

  “Oh. I don’t want to bother your…um…girlfriend?”

  “Girl—?” Iain started coughing.

  “Here.” Jane pushed a glass of water his way.

  He took a few big swallows, his strong throat working. A warm soft knot formed in her belly, and she dropped her gaze. She couldn’t get turned on by somebody drinking water…could she?

  “Not my girlfriend,” he said. “My cousin.”

  “Oh.” Jane felt surprisingly light. That’s weird. It wasn’t like she was jealous of Elizabeth or anything. She could never compete with the stunning blonde, but she was happier nonetheless. “Anyway, I don’t mind making breakfast for everyone. I’m used to cooking for a big family.”

  He shrugged. “If you’re sure.”

  While he sat at the island doing something on a laptop computer, she made coffee and scrambled eggs and fried up some sausages. It felt odd to be cooking so much food, none of it for her family, but at the same time satisfying. She stole a quick glance at Iain. He seemed focused on whatever was on his computer, his face perfectly relaxed. What would it be like to be so centered and sure of what you were and where you belonged?

  The spacious, well-stocked kitchen made cooking a breeze. Soon the food was ready, and Jane started arranging everything on three plates.

  “I smell food. And I hope to god Rebecca came back early because I know you can’t cook worth a damn, Iain,” Elizabeth said as she entered the kitchen. “Oh, hi.”

  “Morning,” Jane said. “There’s coffee if you want.”

  “Oh, thank the lord,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “Iain is a terrible cook. He boiled an egg once that killed half of South America.”

  “I’m not that bad,” Iain grumbled.

  “This is great, Jane. But you didn’t have to. I was going to take everyone out to brunch.”

  “Oh no, it’s nothing. Appreciate your hospitality.”

  “Well, what’s the point of having a big house if I can’t have guests over whenever I want?” She winked.

  It was nice of her to say so, even though Jane knew she wasn’t really a guest. But she didn’t want to correct Elizabeth. It was pleasant to pretend that she was with people who wanted her around out of kindness and genuine feelings rather than some nefarious plan to use her.

  Elizabeth dug around the fridge, emerged with a small jar of non-sugar jam from Europe, and they ate.

  It was companionable—sharing a meal. More than that, it actually felt homey, even though Elizabeth’s house was five times the size of her family’s place. Maybe good company was just good company, regardless of how much money you had.

  “Wow.” Iain blinked once. “This is actually pretty good.”

  “It is,” Elizabeth said with a happy sigh.

  “It’s the ingredients and the kitchen,” Jane said. “Makes it easier to whip up great tasting food.”

  “Are you friends with Mark? He always says the same thing,” Elizabeth said.

  “Mark?”

  “My younger brother,” Iain said. “He owns a couple restaurants.”

  “Oh.” Suddenly Jane felt her face heat, wondering which restaurant Mark worked at. “He must be a great cook.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Note how Iain said owns.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He can’t cook either. I say he’s worse than me.” Iain shoveled the rest of the sausage into his mouth in one large bite, like Jane’s brothers used to do. Rich or not, men were sort of similar in their culinary greed. “I don’t think he could boil an egg if his life depended on it.”

  “Oh he’s not that bad. He was just trying too hard to imitate André, which was his first mistake.” Elizabeth turned to Jane. “André is Mark’s new executive chef.”

  Jane listened with longing in her heart. It must be nice to be in charge of a restaurant and respected for one’s skills. “What kind of restaurant does Mark own?”

  “The latest one is French-Japanese fusion,” Iain said, reaching for his third toast.

  “The food is amazing,” Elizabeth said. “I almost wanted to marry him.”

  “If you wanted a husband who can cook, you should’ve snagged Ethan Lloyd while he was still single.”

  “Yeah… We went out a few times here and there. And his Italian cooking is to die for.” She sighed. “Nice guy, too. But…zero chemistry. What can you do?”

  Jane frowned as the cousins bantered. French-Japanese fusion? She hadn’t seen anything that sounded like that, and she’d applied to almost every restaurant in the city. “What’s the name?”

  “What?” Iain said.

  “The French-Japanese restaurant. What’s it called?”

  “Éternité.” Elizabeth sighed. “Mark dedicated that restaurant to his fiancée. It’s so romantic.”

  “Is it in D.C.?”

  “Nope. L.A. That’s where Mark and Iain live.”

  Jane had assumed Iain was from the area. The fact that he lived so far away sent a soft pang through her chest, which was silly. It wasn’t like she was ever going to run into him again. He obviously traveled in the kind of social circles she could never aspire to. People might assume that twenty-first century America didn’t have any social classes, but she knew better. They were definitely there, mostly created by wealth and education. She had neither while Iain obviously had plenty of both.

  “Anyway,” Iain said, “I figured I’d take you back after breakfast. I’ll help with getting your car fixed.”

 
; “You don’t have to,” Jane said, surprised at the offer.

  “I brought you here, didn’t I? How else are you going to get back to your car?”

  * * *

  The late fall/early winter weather in D.C. was harsh, and Iain wasn’t used to the cold. At least it’s sunny, he thought, hunting for a positive aspect to the situation. Should make for a smooth flight home.

  Jane sat quietly as he drove them to where her car was parked. She looked a bit sad, her dark brown eyes somber. Well. If he’d had to abandon his car in a place like this overnight, he’d be somber too.

  In daylight the section of the city looked even worse. Graffiti covered every inch of the walls and sidewalks. Most of the signs were defaced, if not ripped off their metal poles outright. A few run-down buildings were boarded up, and the signs of poverty and vandalism smothered the area.

  “So where exactly is your car?” Iain asked.

  “Should be about…here.” Jane frowned.

  She was cute with that frown…and a little bit kissable. He shook himself mentally. Jane was complicated. Even Elizabeth thought so.

  Besides, he told himself as he smelled the clean cherry-scented soap and strawberry shampoo on her, I’m done with her in about two minutes anyway. Once he’d deposited her at the car and called a tow truck, his job was finished. He could go on with his life with a clean conscience.

  “Oh my god,” she breathed.

  Iain pulled over, glanced to his left and saw the car was in worse shape than he’d imagined. The morning light exposed every flaw. Calling it a car was being generous. The thing was an abomination, an insult to cars. Thick, crusty rust covered the roof, hood and trunk. The windows were broken, and the seats were slashed. Stained stuffing littered the road, and the interior looked like Jack the Ripper had gotten inside in a particularly bad mood. None of it looked like random vandalism. There was a sense of fury and destruction that hinted at something personal.

  Jane was about to get out, but he held her arm and shook his head. If whoever did this was watching them, he didn’t want to endanger her by letting her out of the Maserati.

  A bag was on the ground near Jane’s car with its content spilled. Clothes and photos were ripped and stained dark brown with something that looked like… Iain’s jaw tightened. Was that…?