The Billionaire's Holiday Obsession

by Nadia Lee

  “How about you though? Are you going to spend it alone out in L.A.?”

  “Um. Iain invited me to dinner at his parents’ place.”

  A pregnant pause. “I thought you said you guys weren’t doing anything.”

  “We aren’t.” Iain had probably forgotten all about her pathetic kiss, while she still burned every time she thought about it.

  “Then why are you going to his parents’?”

  “He insisted. Said he felt bad about leaving me home alone on Thanksgiving.”

  “Hmm. Probably not a psycho killer then.”

  Jane laughed softly. “No. Definitely not.” He was more like her guardian angel or something.

  “What are you going to bring?” Vivian was saying. “Your to-die-for pumpkin pie?”

  “Actually I’m not sure yet. I don’t think his family would really go for that.”

  “Why not? Are they mutants from outer space?”

  “It’s hard to explain. You’d have to meet his mother to know.”

  “Wait! You’ve met his mother?”

  “Yes, bu—”

  “You said there was nothing between the two of you!”

  “There isn’t. How many times do I have to tell you? She came by to see him, and we got to say hello.”

  “Uh-huh. So tell me about his mother. You’ve never talked about anyone’s mother with that kind of…hushed awe in your voice.”

  “‘Hushed awe’?”

  “Didja like that? I’ve been reading some of those books you gave me.”

  Jane laughed. “Okay. No, it’s just that she’s so…young looking.”

  “Stepmother?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” There had been too much affection and an undercurrent of history between them. “And Viv, seriously, she’s gorgeous. She’s gotta be at least fifty, she’s had a passel of kids, and I thought she was like a forty-year-old model at first. Maybe thirty-five. The way she moves and talks… It’s like she’s a queen or something.”

  “Wow. Was she snotty to you?”

  “No. But the way she looks at you can make you feel really small.”

  “That sounds bad.”

  “Maybe. I think it’s got more to do with her seeming so convinced of how wonderful and lovely she is. She’s so confident and proud. I haven’t met Iain’s father, but I’m sure he’s gotta be dashing and amazing to be with a woman like that.” She sighed. “And I just don’t know if something like a pumpkin pie is gonna go over that great at their dinner.”

  “Well, you can’t go empty-handed. Make the damn pie. If they throw it away, just says more about them than you.” Somebody yelled in the background. “Gotta go. That’s mom wanting my help grating up the cheese. Uncle Thad brought a three-pound block of cheddar. Good lord.”

  Jane chuckled. “Have fun. And say hi to everyone.”

  “Will do, although they’d prefer to hear it from you.”

  Jane made a noncommittal noise and hung up. She wasn’t sure what she would say if she called her family. What if they mocked her the way they had earlier? And if they apologized… Well, that wouldn’t change anything either, would it? She couldn’t return to Paris now, not when she was on track to being something bigger and better than Jane the Family Maid.

  She rinsed her bowl and put it in the dishwasher. Vivian was right. No way she could go empty-handed. She had some cash from the ATM, and since she needed to buy a pair of clogs anyway, she decided to go shopping.

  * * *

  Ever since Iain had left, he’d driven around aimlessly. Now, somehow, he’d ended up at the family orange grove. It was quiet and tranquil with rows and rows of orange and lime trees and a beautiful manmade lake. He lay on a picnic blanket and stared at the Southern California sky, hoping the natural surroundings and isolation would give him the peace he sought.

  But the idyllic setting couldn’t quiet the conflicting emotions churning inside him. Even the waddling ducks sounded like they were mocking him with their quacks. Damn it. What was wrong with him? The grove never failed to calm him down.

  Annoyed and disappointed, he got up, gathered his things and walked into the grove mansion’s kitchen. He had a roast-beef sandwich for lunch and then drove back to the city. He had to get a hold of himself or he’d end up doing something he’d regret.

  He sniffed as he entered his penthouse. The place smelled of spices: cinnamon, nutmeg and…brown sugar? The stereo—which he’d received as a gift and never used—was playing a cheery Christmas tune. What the hell?

  “Hey! You’re back,” Jane said from the kitchen. In front of her were two pie-crusts and three bowls, two of which were filled with some kind of orange paste.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Baking,” she said brightly. “I’m making pumpkin and yam pies.”

  “For what?”

  “To take them to your parents’ house tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Well, I want to. It’s the least I can do.”

  “And the Christmas music?”

  She flushed. “That was for me. I didn’t see any CDs or anything around the stereo.” When he continued to stare, she added, “It was in the sale bin. I couldn’t believe the store stuck it in there, but hey. I wasn’t about to pass it up.”

  “Yes, I can see that, but we haven’t had Thanksgiving yet.” Not that he would’ve been okay with the ridiculously cheery music after Thanksgiving either.

  “I know, but…doesn’t it help you get into the holiday spirit? It’s such a wonderful time of the year. Almost magical.”

  He stared at her in abject horror as the singer claimed, “Santa Clause is coming to town.” There was no flying sleigh or magic. He’d known the truth about Santa since he was five. “Do you still believe in Santa, too?”

  She laughed. “Of course not. I’m not a complete idiot. But I love the season. It makes me happy, even if I’m not getting a white Christmas this year.”

  “Thank god,” Iain said. “Snow in L.A. would be a sign of the apocalypse.”

  “So, what do you think?” She pushed the two bowls with filling toward him. “One’s pumpkin and the other’s yam. I made ’em this afternoon.” She handed him a small spoon.

  He sampled both. They were excellent—sweet, creamy and rich with just a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. He looked at her in surprise while she waited for his verdict. She was a much better cook than he’d imagined. “Did you make the crusts too?” he asked.

  “Yeah. It wasn’t that hard. What do you think about the fillings?”

  “They’re…great.”

  “Think your mother will approve?”

  She was worried about pleasing his mother? He wasn’t sure what to make of that. As much as he loved his mother, he had been a dickhead to her for a long time. And here was this girl who’d never received anything from his mother, but was still eager to make her happy. And Ceinlys hadn’t shown Jane any of the love she’d shown him, that was for sure. “I think she’ll like them,” he managed through a thick lump in his throat.

  Jane beamed. “Oh, great. I was a little worried.”

  He forced a smile. No need to worry. His mother had interfered in Mark’s relationship, but that was only because she’d felt protectively close to him. Ceinlys had never tried to interfere in anything Iain did, even after he’d quit MMA. There was a rift that not even her love could bridge, and she would never treat Jane the way she’d treated Hilary. Iain had been okay with the situation, but now it bothered him. He couldn’t help but wish that his mother didn’t feel the need to deal with him with that distance between them.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next day, Iain drove to his parents’ place. Jane wore one of the dresses he’d bought for her so she’d look presentable. And when they got to the estate, she was immediately thankful that he’d insisted on getting her nicer clothes.

  His parents didn’t live in a house. “Mansion” didn’t really describe it, either.

  “
Oh my god, that’s a palace!” Jane said.

  “It’s just a typical home for around here, nothing special.”

  “Are you blind?” Her mouth open, she stared outside.

  There was a black wrought-iron fence around the property. Iain punched in a security code, and the gates swung open majestically. The driveway cut a lazy pastoral path through a huge garden dotted with sculptures and topiary animals. They passed an enormous oval water fountain with three bronze mermaids. It threw off enough mist that Iain had to turn on the wipers for a moment to clear the windshield as they drove by.

  The main manor was made of sun-bleached stones, and at least three stories tall—it was difficult to tell, since it looked like every level had a vaulted ceiling. She blinked at the turrets.

  “This isn’t just a home. It’s unbelievable,” Jane whispered in awe. Then she turned to look at him. “Is this where you grew up?”

  He nodded.

  “Wow.” She swiveled her head back to the giant mansion. It demonstrated just how different she and Iain were. She’d grown up in a four-bedroom house, which was big for Paris. Her family had converted a small den into a room for her since she couldn’t very well share with her brothers. But there had never really been enough space, just some land. She had a feeling the backyard that came with this mansion was bigger than her family’s entire farm.

  In front of the house was some kind of sleek foreign sports car she didn’t recognize plus a Mercedes coupe. Iain parked his Maserati next to the Mercedes and helped Jane out.

  “Guess we’re the last ones here,” he said.

  “Are we late?”

  “Relax. We won’t eat until at least six.”

  “Oh good. I want to help your mother in the kitchen. Is that all right?”

  “My mother? In a kitchen?” He laughed. “Maybe just to issue orders. I think she has a cook actually making the stuff.”

  “Your cook works on Thanksgiving?”

  “Well…yeah. She lives here.”

  “You have live-in servants?” That was it. No matter what Iain claimed, his parents lived in a palace.

  They went inside together. Sure enough, the foyer had a vaulted ceiling and several well-lit chandeliers. The floor was all pale marble, shiny with a hint of beige veins running through.

  An elderly gentleman in a tuxedo welcomed them. She stared at him openly, wondering if he was Iain’s father, and if so, why he was standing so stiffly.

  “Hey, Al,” Iain said.

  “Sir.”

  Sir?

  “Miss, may I take your parcel?” he asked.

  Her grip around the pie container tightened. “It’s all right. I can carry it to the kitchen.”

  “As you like.” He walked with them toward what she assumed was a kitchen. The long corridors sported portraits of handsome men and women. Not photos, but actual oil paintings.

  Iain noticed her looking at them. “Ancestors and relatives and so on.”

  “Are you up there too?” she asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Wow. It’s incredible.” Her family’s place just had a few snapshots of everyone.

  At the end of the hall, Al ceremoniously opened double doors and stepped aside.

  They entered a living room. It was so big that there would have been enough space for a couple of king-size beds in addition to the black grand piano, four couches and three armchairs that were already inside. The high ceiling made the space look bigger and airier, and the piano was playing some kind of music on its own.

  Jane recognized Mark and Hilary and Vanessa. She didn’t know the older man seated at an armchair looking at something on his phone, but the clean, classic lines of his face were unmistakably similar to Iain’s.

  “Hi, Dad,” Iain said.

  “Hello, Iain.” The man looked at Jane with mild curiosity. “Is this the girl I’ve heard so much about?”

  A muscle in Iain’s jaw flexed. “Probably. Jane Connolly, meet my father, Salazar Pryce.”

  “Nice to meet you, sir,” she said.

  “Oh, don’t call me sir. Makes me feel old. Plus, you’re a guest.” He gave her a brilliant smile and gestured at her pie containers. “Put that down somewhere and grab a drink.”

  “Where’s the kitchen?”

  Before Salazar could answer, Vanessa said, “I’ll show her,” and stood up from the couch. “Come with me.”

  Vanessa was in a casual, long-sleeved dress. Her cherry-red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she walked like a pro in her high heels, while Jane tiptoed to avoid slipping and making a fool out of herself on the marble floor in the hall. She wasn’t used to wearing anything like these horrible stilettos.

  “What did you bring?” Vanessa asked.

  “A couple of pies. Pumpkin and yam. I made them.”

  “Sounds delicious.” Vanessa smiled, but her eyes had unhappy lines forking out from the corners.

  After what seemed like half a mile of marble hall, they finally reached their destination. Jane gasped. How could this be a kitchen for a family? Everything was stainless steel and chrome, and it looked like it belonged in a small diner. There were three ovens, a built-in microwave, and a fridge that was big enough to store food for a small town. It also had a giant indoor grill, and almost as many pots and pans as André’s kitchen.

  “You can put the pies on the counter,” Vanessa said to Jane, then announced, “Mom, Jane’s here.”

  Ceinlys murmured something to the cook and turned around. Her hair in an elegant updo, she looked royal in a deep blue dress with fitted sleeves. It showed off her toned calves and trim ankles. She too wore absurdly high heels. Maybe the ability to wear shoes like that was genetic.

  If Ceinlys was surprised at Jane’s presence, she didn’t show it. “Welcome, Jane,” she said, her voice politely neutral. “So glad you could join us.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Iain texted me that you made dessert. You really shouldn’t have.”

  “Oh, it was no problem. I wanted to.”

  Ceinlys gave her a two-millimeter smile. “Dinner will be served soon.”

  Iain’s mother didn’t even glance at the pies. Instead she gestured to a uniformed housekeeper, and the three women started to walk toward the dining room. The silence felt oppressive to Jane. If she’d been home, she would’ve been able to hear her brothers joking around and laughing. Maybe this was how the wealthy celebrated Thanksgiving—somber and formal.

  The dining room was like something out of a movie. Two chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, and a long table stretched most of the length of the room. Two candelabras occupied the table. Salazar was already seated at the head. Ceinlys took the opposite end of the table. Mark and Hilary sat on one side, and Iain, Jane and Vanessa sat on the other. Jane blinked. How could anyone have a conversation without yelling with so much distance between everyone?

  Then Jane looked at her place setting with dismay. There were almost more forks and knives just for her use than what her entire family owned. This was a family dinner. Why did anybody need so many utensils?

  Iain leaned over. “Start from the outside,” he whispered.

  The housekeeper served a warm appetizer. Nobody said grace. The sound of silverware clinking against fine china filled the room as everyone ate in silence. Jane checked out which fork and knife people selected first and sampled the food, her hands clammy. It probably tasted amazing—it certainly looked amazing—but she couldn’t tell. Even Mark and Hilary seemed stiff and uncomfortable, quite different from how they’d been at Éternité.

  “Did you get a call from Dane?” Salazar asked. Somehow his soft voice carried through the dining room.

  “No,” Ceinlys said. “But then I didn’t expect him to join us.” She dabbed her mouth delicately with a snow-white napkin. “Shane, however, is a disappointment.”

  Dane and Shane?

  “Yes, they rhyme,” Salazar said with an arch look at Jane. “What about it? Your name rhymes with theirs, t
oo.”

  She flushed, wincing. Had she said that out loud?

  Vanessa leaned over and said, “Don’t worry. Dad’s had a lot of practice reading women.”

  The dining room plunged back into silence.

  After a few more small courses came the main attraction—turkey and ham. Both were large and handsome, glazed and baked to perfection. Salazar carved a few slices and had the housekeeper serve everyone. Jane pushed the mashed potatoes and buttered sweet corn around on her plate, unable to eat any more. Her stomach was completely knotted.

  “Is the food not to your liking, Jane?” came Ceinlys’s neutral voice.

  Everyone’s gaze zeroed in on Jane, and she felt like she was suffocating.

  “Mom supervised the ham herself,” Vanessa announced helpfully.

  “Everything is excellent,” Jane said with a wide smile. “Especially the ham. Virginian, right?”

  “Yes. Honey-glazed.” Not a muscle ticked in Ceinlys’s face.

  Silence descended again. “I love Virginia ham,” Jane added lamely then quickly shoved a big piece into her mouth. Hopefully nobody would expect her to talk with her mouth full.

  “I saw Justin in town, by the way,” Mark said.

  Oh thank you, thank you.

  “So did I,” Iain said. “Something about having business. And he asked me about you, Vanessa.”

  “Did he?”

  Oh wait. That was pretty frosty right there. Jane stole a quick glance at Vanessa, who continued to eat her food as serenely as a swan gliding across a lake. Hilary’s gaze was shifting back and forth between Vanessa and Iain.

  Finally Vanessa said, “What?”

  “You don’t have to sound like you don’t like him. He’s a nice guy,” Mark said.

  “You think he’s nice because he’s your best friend’s in-law.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with Barron Sterling’s heir apparent,” Ceinlys announced.

  “That’s for sure.” Salazar lifted his white wine in a mock toast. “No flaw that twenty-five billion dollars can’t make up for.”

  Jane gasped and choked.

  “Give her something to drink, Iain,” Salazar said. “The poor girl’s going to die.”