Billionaire's Christmas (Titans Book 3)

by Sierra Cartwright

  He adjusted his cock.

  Hope pushed the lipstick cover back on, then dropped the tube into her bag and fastened the clasp. Then she inhaled to cover her nerves. “I’m ready.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Wind gusted from the north, making the mid-December night damp and cold. He draped a wrap around her shoulders before extending his elbow for support as they walked toward the car.

  Within minutes, he turned onto the half-circle driveway, and the mansion—called the Great House by members—came into view. Hope gasped. The building was always imposing, but decorated for Christmas, it was stunning.

  The porch, second-story gallery, and the ten Grecian pillars had been wrapped with twinkling white lights in honor of the holidays. Wreaths were hung in the windows, and garland draped the door.

  Tonight, a valet stand had been set up in front of the staircase. Even though an attendant opened her door, she waited for Rafe to assist her from the car. Every day, in dozens of ways, he made her feel cherished.

  Arm in arm, they climbed the stairs, and both sets of elegant double doors were opened for them.

  The lobby was always spectacular. Tonight, with its mechanical moving reindeer and a twenty-foot Christmas tree filling the air with the fresh scent of pine, it was amazing. Both curved staircases leading to the second floor were wrapped with greenery and lights. At the top, in the middle, was a platform, in the shape of a semicircle. The Zeta society’s symbol, a lowercase Greek z, adored the wood.

  “Evening, Rafe.”

  Stunned, Hope froze as Eldon Misken joined them. The entrepreneur had never completed college, yet he spent his days trying to solve the world’s problems, launching rockets, manufacturing stylish, electric cars, harnessing the power of the sun and wind. Some people called him a visionary. Others considered him a narcissistic crackpot. After a moment of gawking, Hope forced herself to close her mouth. A quick look at his right hand confirmed he was wearing a Zeta ring, not that she was surprised. Because of privacy rules, she hadn’t seen a membership roster. After tonight, she’d be able to log in to the Zeta’s website to find the information herself.

  “Eldon,” Rafe said, and the two men exchanged handshakes. “May I introduce my bride-to-be, Hope Malloy.”

  “Congratulations, Ms. Malloy,” he said. “I understand you’re going to become a member tonight?”

  “I am.”

  “Double congratulations, then. On the wedding and on being accepted into the Zetas.” He shook Hope’s hand.

  She wished it wasn’t gauche to request an autograph. One of her matchmakers, Skyler, was a huge Eldon fan, and it would make a heck of a Christmas present for her.

  “I need to spend a few days in DC,” Eldon said. “There’s some doubters on Capitol Hill who need their hands shaken. Some of this progress ruffles the feathers of their constituents.” He said it with a note of disdain, as if there was nothing he detested more.

  “Will you be staying at The Sterling Parkland?”

  Rafe is more than a passing acquaintance with Eldon?

  “My admin tells me it’s fully booked.”

  How was it possible that billionaires had problems getting hotel reservations?

  “Would you like a White House view?”

  “Lafayette Park, so the scenery will encourage me to get out for a run.”

  “Send me the dates and I’ll take care of it. Enjoy your evening,” Rafe said as they parted ways.

  “Wait,” she said, the moment the man was out of earshot. “You know Eldon? As in, you’re friends?”

  “After all this time, I’ve managed to impress you?” He grinned. “I would have introduced you earlier.”

  “I want his autograph.”

  “What?”

  “Tell him that’s part of the deal.”

  Rafe stopped walking to stare at her.

  “Skyler has a crush on him.”

  “You’re serious about this.”

  She smiled her appreciation. “You’re the greatest, Mr. Sterling.”

  “Because I can get you a signature?”

  “Well, it is just one of your impressive talents…” She adjusted his bow tie, and his eyes lit up in response, in promise.

  Waitstaff garbed in tuxedoes—even the women—threaded their way through the room, serving appetizers. Several bartenders were mixing custom cocktails. One muddled mint from the plantation’s greenhouse. Throughout the room, a couple of other stations had been set up to serve wine, beer, and champagne.

  “What can I get you?” Rafe asked.

  “Champagne.”

  “Why did I bother asking? If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Thank you.” Most times, when she attended society functions, she was working, talking to Houston’s single women, adding business cards to her purse. But tonight, she was among two hundred guests, the elite from all over the world. No matter how she tried to pretend it was normal, she was a little unnerved. She was an imposter here, not born into wealth, and she hadn’t made her mark on the world as an entrepreneur or rule changer, and she’d been bumped to the top of the years-long wait list.

  She exhaled a thankful smile when Celeste walked—or more like glided—over. In addition to serving on the Society’s steering committee, Celeste owned Fallon and Associates, a high-profile PR group. Or that’s what their website proclaimed. The reality was far different. When media spin wasn’t enough, the organization made problems go away. How far their reach went, Hope had no idea.

  “Darling Hope!” Celeste kissed both of Hope’s cheeks. “You’re radiant.”

  Celeste’s floor-length gold gown had thousands of beads sewn on her bodice. The back swept into a jaw-dropping train. She attracted the attention of everyone close enough to see her. “You look like you could rule the world.”

  “I intend to.” Celeste laughed, more with conviction than mirth. “How are you faring at your first official Zeta Society event?”

  “I feel as if I have fraud alert stamped on my forehead.”

  “Don’t. You earned your place here.”

  “With…” She glanced around. There was a former football player, a quarterback, if she wasn’t mistaken. A poet laureate. An A-list actor, and across the room, his ex-wife who was now an ambassador. One of Texas’s senators stood in the corner, with a crowd gathered around him. And Eldon Misken, for God’s sake. “With all these Titans?”

  “You, my dear, are matchmaker to some high profile individuals. You know their secrets and their—how shall we say it? Peccadillos? Knowing a person’s secrets and keeping them, is powerful beyond compare.”

  Unable to help herself, Hope grinned. “Okay. I still may not belong, but I feel better about it.”

  “Don’t fool yourself. You’re a successful entrepreneur. Prestige is growing in reputation, which means you’ll have worldwide clients before long. Not everyone here is a legacy member, and to be frank, we like it that way. We seek out unusual occupations. We wouldn’t be as vibrant, as forward-thinking, solution oriented if we had the same old stodgy people admitted year after year.”

  “But the wait list…”

  No one was close enough to overhear them, but Celeste leaned forward anyway and took one of Hope’s hands. “It doesn’t always go in order. Yes, we do consider application date, but there are always exceptions. Your membership is not without precedent, Hope. It does us good to have more women among our ranks. In terms of female representation, we have a lot of ground to make up. You did very well during your screening.”

  The process had been more than a little intimidating. Three months prior, she and Rafe had visited the Parthenon. For four hours, she’d sat in one of the boardrooms, behind a table facing all the members of the steering committee. They’d sat on a dais in comfortable padded chairs, while she’d been relegated to a wooden chair that wobbled each time she shifted. A light had been pointed at her, and they hadn’t allowed for any breaks. After an hour, she’d gotten up and dragged over a more comfortable one from the corn
er of the room.

  That was the only time that Celeste had smiled. And Hope had realized that taking action had been part of the test.

  The interminable wait for a decision had been far more difficult, though. Rafe had said he had no doubts, but for weeks she’d checked email and messages like a woman obsessed.

  “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t deserve it,” Celeste reiterated. “So, let this be the last you speak of it.” She lifted a hand in front of her face to be certain they couldn’t be overheard. “Some of these people desperately need your services. Like that gentleman over there.” She indicated a man with rakishly good looks, wearing a tailored tuxedo. He’d added a splashy, interest-snagging cobalt-blue bowtie and cummerbund.

  Hope shook her head. “I don’t recognize him.”

  “Zane Kentwood.”

  Though Hope recognized the name, she couldn’t place it.

  “The prodigy who’s been placed in charge of Bradford Capital Management.”

  “As in the hedge fund?”

  Celeste smiled her approval. “I knew you’d keep up.”

  Hope’s eyes widened as she took a second look at Zane. Bradford Capital was recognized as one of the top ten hedge funds in the world. If her memory was correct, they had over a hundred fifty billion dollars under management. They counted pension funds, university endowments, cities and towns, even central banks as clients. They existed for people with ridiculous amounts of money.

  “The bigger the risk, the greater the chances that Bradford will be the firm of choice. Thanks to Zane. When he started interning, they had less than a third of that money. He challenged the founder on some key investment policies. Most people thought he’d get fired. Instead, he became Marvin’s protégé.” Then, angling her body conspiratorially, Celeste added, “He still lives in the same apartment he had in college. The man’s far too much of a workaholic. It’s time for someone to shake up his life. I think you should find the woman who’s brave enough to do it.”

  Hope was cautious. “He should want a wife before we find him one.”

  Celeste shrugged, and Hope couldn’t tell if it meant Celeste agreed or not.

  “Well at least talk to Randy. Near the bar. The one stabbing his olive into his martini and considering drowning himself in the glass.” She sighed. “Owns a chain of bridal stores—one in Houston, another in Dallas, one in San Antonio, and he’s opening another in Austin. He needs a husband or at least a partner. He’s going to die of loneliness.”

  “We’ve had a few requests for same-sex partners.” Her male associate, Tony, had suggested they add that as a part of their business. “We might be able to help.”

  “And for God’s sake, I need to get Remington Hagan in to see you.”

  She frowned. “Who’s that?”

  “He’s black ops. Undercover stuff. Cloak-and-dagger, trying to keep the world safe from the bogeyman. Has something of a hero complex. That’s not a clinical diagnosis—it’s mine. His wife died in a plane crash about three years ago, and since then he’s taken some stupid risks. It’s time for him to move on.”

  More than many, Hope understood that not everyone could. Hope’s father had been killed in action right around the time Hope was born. Her mother, Cynthia, had believed that they were soul mates, and she’d spent her life dedicated to taking care of veterans, even at the expense of spending time with Hope. “Some people never do.”

  “Remington needs to, for the sake of the world. Tell me you’ll talk to him.”

  “You know that’s not my business model.” Prestige preferred to deal with people who’d decided on their own that they were ready to get married, for whatever reasons. They had clients who were in their late twenties, all the way up to a feisty octogenarian.

  “Adapt and overcome.” Celeste recited one of her mottos.

  “Do you ever stop?”

  “Everyone needs someone. I simply won’t allow some other company to glom on to him and steal the commission from beneath your nose. You need to be more aggressive, Hope.”

  Rafe rejoined them. “Celeste! You’re stunning as ever.” He was carrying two glasses of champagne. After handing one to Hope, he offered the other to Celeste.

  She accepted it with a “Thanks.”

  “Welcome to the Zeta Society,” Celeste said, lifting her glass to Hope. “We have the world’s elite as members.” Then she rolled her eyes. “Except for that pesky damn senator from Texas. Annoying as hell in that ten-gallon hat. Who wears them anymore?” She waved a hand. “Rafe, we have got to find a good candidate to run against him so we can call him a former senator.” Then, like an empress, Celeste floated away, train dragging behind her, people parting as she approached.

  “She needs a crown,” Hope said.

  “I’d be surprised if she didn’t have one,” Rafe admitted. “Since I seem to have lost my champagne, I need to go back to the bar. Will you be okay by yourself?”

  “Perhaps I’ll go speak with Mr. Hagan. Celeste suggests he might be a possible client.”

  “Business always calls.” He leaned toward her. His breath warm on her skin, he whispered into her ear, “Be thinking about who’s going to fuck you senseless tonight.”

  With his simple, direct statement, he’d reminded her of what they’d started earlier, and heat crashed through her once again. He’d had that power over her since the very first time they met.

  “I’ll find you,” he promised.

  She took a sip of the excellent sparkling wine before making her way toward Remington.

  “Ah.” His smile was genuine, though touched with a brush of pain. If she hadn’t been looking for it, she might have missed it. “Celeste told me she was going to sic a matchmaker on me.”

  “Ouch,” she said with a smile.

  “No offense meant, Ms. Malloy. I’m afraid Celeste is right that I’ve lost myself in my work.” Perhaps because Hope was safe, someone he didn’t know, not judgmental, he went on. “That’s not the right word. Drowned myself in it. Better than other things, though?”

  “I know how bad it hurts.”

  “Larissa has been gone three years. Sometimes it seems like yesterday and that I’ll wake up from the nightmares. I listen to an old voicemail so I don’t forget her voice.” He stared into his glass. Vodka, if she wasn’t mistaken. “With my job, we knew we were taking a risk that our time together would be short. But…” He shook his head. “I wasn’t prepared for it. I don’t know that I would have had the courage to ask her out if I’d known she would die before me.”

  At the raw emotion strung through his words, Hope’s heart twisted.

  “After the funeral, I realized how strong she’d been. She took a chance, lived with me being gone for weeks without any contact.” He angled his head, and the light played on a faint scar that ran from his temple to his ear, then curved back into his close-cropped hair. “In her place, I would have been a coward.”

  “She sounds very special.”

  “Part of me thinks it would be better to remain alone, even if others don’t think so.”

  “The holidays can be difficult.”

  “Tonight is a celebration. I didn’t mean to spoil your evening.” He smiled.

  She marveled at the stunning transformation, from a man filled with pain to a charming companion, emotions locked up as if they weren’t permitted to get in the way of the rest of his life. He was a chameleon of sorts—that no doubt made him great at his job.

  “Congratulations are in order. Welcome to the Zetas.”

  “Thank you.” Because he’d been so honest with her, she made her own confession. “It’s a bit surreal.”

  “I agree with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Connections are forged that last a lifetime. If you have the chance, be sure to attend the annual gathering, or as much of it as you can. I’ve missed a few years because of other…obligations, but I try to take my leave around that time.”

  “And the bonfire?” she asked.

>   He laughed. “Including togas and flat sandals.”

  Rafe had teased her the same way. “Foiled again.” Years ago, she’d read an exposé written by a reporter who’d sneaked in to one of the Society’s annual gatherings. He’d reported about mysterious dancing around the bonfire with some strange rituals and burning effigies that she suspected were more folklore than fact, but she couldn’t find anyone to confirm or deny it. “If there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to contact me.” She thought of slipping him a business card but realized he’d have no trouble finding her if he wanted to.

  She was considering who to talk to next when Rafe bore down on her, his gaze and stride filled with single-minded purpose.

  “I see you’ve met my fiancée,” Rafe said to Remington as they shook hands.

  “Indeed? I hadn’t heard. Much happiness to you both.” He lifted his glass. Then to Rafe, he asked, “How is your father getting along?”

  Hope wondered if Rafe knew everyone here. It was possible since only a fraction of the society’s members were present.

  He gave a brief overview of his father’s situation. Following the murder of his lover, Theodore Sterling had taken a months-long cruise, including a port of call in Morocco, a place he and Lillibet had planned to visit on their honeymoon. He’d scattered her ashes there, and according to him, he’d left his heart there as well. Now he rarely ventured outside his oceanfront condo.

  “Grief does strange things to us,” Remington agreed, those haunted lines trenching beside his eyes again.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” A voice, cultured and energetic, blasted from unseen speakers, instantly cutting through the din. “Welcome to our annual holiday party. For those who don’t know me…” He paused for the laughs and guffaws that would follow.

  Her mouth open, she looked at the emcee and then at Rafe. “Jaxon Mills? Are you kidding me?”

  Rafe grinned.

  Jaxon owned one of the most well-known and respected digital media marketing companies. He was everywhere, admired by many, despised by some who believed he was a loudmouth. But his success was inarguable. Celeste believed he was somewhat of an oracle when it came to guessing what the next big thing would be. Because he acted on it, he’d come from nothing to amass a small fortune. And he, too, was a Titan?