Billionaire's Christmas Vixen (7 page)

She was saddened to find that the couch was empty beside her when she finally roused from her sleep. The sadness was quickly overcome by joy as the tinsel and lights glittered at her. George’s back was to her, but from the way he was hunched over, hanging the last of the gold and silver teardrop ornaments, she knew that he had been working long before she had woke. She was impressed with what he had done and that she had slept through his sneaking around. She could see that the tree meant much to him. Whether because of her or because of the memory of Christmas’s past, she wasn’t sure.

She pulled the quilt up to her chin and admired the way he spread the limbs with care, and then stepped back to judge his work. She could see him shaking his head, sulking back to the tree, unhappy with the end product. She didn’t want him to change a thing. “It’s beautiful,” she blurted, visibly startling him. It wasn’t a lie.

He seemed doubtful as he came to her, wished her good morning and tried explaining that he had thought it would be something that she would enjoy waking to. He had no idea how right he had been. But whereas he saw a failure, a runt of the litter sort of creation, she saw art and love. Yes, she saw love in that tree. Not love for her, per se, but love for what he had done, love for the tree itself, and what it meant for him as well as for her. He couldn’t possibly know, but Brea was pretty sure that this was the best gift she would receive this year.

She hated that, in a couple of hours, she would be home with her family and that George would only be a memory, although never a distant one. She dreaded that she would never see him again. She’d seen something in him that she’d never expected, and she was sure that there endless depths to him, if he would only allow her to explore them. After today, though, she wouldn’t have that chance.

But he wasn’t pushing her out the door just yet, so she would take every moment that she could until she absolutely had no choice but to walk away.

He let her dress in private, though she was warming to the idea of him seeing her in all her glory. Still, with the sun beating down and lighting the room, she knew that every inch of her body, every curve and every imperfection would be seen and free for inspection.

She heard the clink of dishes in the kitchen as she pulled up her jeans. She hadn’t realized she was sore until she pulled up the zipper and they hugged tightly at her. It was a soreness that she enjoyed, though, just recalling why she was to begin with.

“Can I make a call?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen. He was already cracking eggs and whipping up pancake batter. Fresh blueberries sat on the counter beside him, and several slices of bacon were already frying in a pan.

He gave her the go ahead for the phone and she dialed her mother’s number. As she waited for an answer, a waft of the bacon grease attacked her. “Smells delicious, by the way.” He turned and gave her a smile just as the line clicked. She heard a voice on the other end.

“Hello?” The voice was a little too cheery, a little too young and vibrant, a little too kind and innocent. “Nelson residence.”

Oh God, so she
had
called the right house. Okay, so who was answering her parents’ phone, then? Because it certainly wasn’t either of her parents, and it certainly wasn’t her sister. She stuttered over her own words, caught off guard by the strange woman on the other end. “Who’s this?”

“Oh goodness! Is this Brea?” the voice exclaimed, her high pitched tone piercing Brea’s ear. “Where are you? We’ve been waiting all morning for you to show!”

“Who is this?” she repeated, the woman having completely evaded her question.

“Oh goodness! I’m so sorry! I’m Eric’s girlfriend, Stephanie. You’re mother invited us up for Christmas and, well, Eric has done nothing but rave about your family, so of course we had to come!”

Brea felt her stomach flopping and the repulsion of it all as her throat and chest burned with disgust.

“My mother did
what
?”

She’d not meant to say the words aloud, and George turned to her in concern. She shook her head, telling him that she was fine. But she wasn’t fine. She was furious. It had been one thing for her mother to invite Eric. That was enough of an insult as it were. But to invite the man’s newest girlfriend? To rub it in Brea’s face once again that she just wasn’t good enough, that she would never be good enough? Brea felt sick as she flopped down in a seat.

“I’m sorry, can I please talk with my sister?”

The woman muttered a reply, Brea hearing the confusion and hurt in her voice, but not caring. The woman had no right to be in her home.
Eric
had no right being in her home.

She waited several moments, every moment of background rustling driving under her skin like splinters. Finally, her sister came on the line and whispered into the phone. “Oh my God, I had no idea until this morning when she showed up with him. I had no idea how to reach you.” Brandy sounded as desperate as Brea should have been. As upset as she would have been just the night before.

Now, though, the only thing she was upset about was her mother’s manipulative ways. Before she could calm her sister down, though, Brandy ranted onwards. “You’ve got to do something about this. This is too much. She’s gone too far this time. I don’t even know if I’d come home if I were you. To hell with them!”

Brea laughed at her sister’s outburst.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s okay.” She was surprised to hear the words herself, just as her sister was, but they weren’t any less true because of it. “I’m fine.”

Brandy voiced her skepticism, but Brea stopped her before she could get far. “I swear it, I am fine.”

Brandy sighed. “Okay, I’ll leave it alone, then. But I swear that if you don’t say something to her, I’m going to. Right in front of Eric and Sara, or Sally, or whatever that tramp’s name is.”

Brea giggled again at her sister’s hostility. “I’ll take care of it, okay?” She couldn’t believe how wonderful she felt now that she’d gotten over the initial shock of it. She truly didn’t care, and though being there with the two of them was sure to be uncomfortable to begin with, she found that she wasn’t really concerned with it.

“Fine. What time should I tell them to expect you?”

Brea glanced over to George, who was flipping pancakes into the air. She smiled as he continued, unaware of his admiring audience. Her smile fell as she turned back to the phone and to her sister. “I’ll be leaving here shortly, so just tell Mom a couple more hours.”

“You know she’s not going to be happy with that, right? I’m just giving you a heads up that she’s already been raising hell this morning because of your absence.”

“She’ll live. Just tell her that I’ll be there.”

“Okay, it’s your ass, though!” Her voice dropped back down to a whisper. “So this guy? Anything interesting happen, there?”

Brea glanced over at George, who was still preoccupied and completely unaware of her conversation. “We can talk about this later,” she said, her eyes on George’s back.

“Oh come on! I want details! Wait, he’s in the room with you, isn’t he?” Her sister chuckled. “He’s hunky, right? Is he naked? Hm? What’s he wearing?”

“We can talk about this later,” she repeated anxiously.

Brandy huffed. “Fine, fine. We have to talk about this later, though! I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

Brea giggled. “I promise, later. I love you.”

“Love you too! Hoping the best for you, wink wink.”

Brea crossed the small room so that she stood at the end of the counter, watching George as he worked on their breakfast. She was impressed that he was so capable, and felt regret that she had made such quick judgments of him the evening before. “Would you like some help?”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t turn away from his mission. “Despite your thoughts of me, I can make pancakes without burning down the house.” He smiled as he flipped the last pancake onto the stack that sat beside the stove. “How are things back home?” He slathered butter and poured syrup before placing the plates on the table, strips of bacon lying to the side. “Are your parents upset that you’ve not made it home yet?”

Brea smirked as she replied, “You have no idea. My mom has this schedule that she follows, to a T, every single year. I’ve thrown her plans so out of whack that she’ll probably stay drunk until after the New Year.”

George laughed as he slid pancakes between his teeth. “And what’s going on with Eric?”

Brea blushed at the mention of his name. Not because she was ready to get home to see him, but because of how much of a fool she had been. Now she realized that what she had felt for Eric was only a fraction of what she could feel for someone, and she thought that George could possibly be that someone, if he would ever allow it. She frowned, knowing that he wasn’t the type to settle down. She couldn’t make herself out to be a fool in front of him two times in a row. “He’s there already. With his girlfriend.” She didn’t much feel like laughing, with the thoughts of losing George coming to mind, but she forced a small one for his sake.

He reached across the table and held her hand for a moment. She felt sick with the sting that it left on her skin and in her heart. “I’m sorry. Are you going to be okay?”

She gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Yesterday, I’d of been a wreck with it. I didn’t know how to go home and face my family or Eric. Today, though, I feel quite a bit differently.”

George smiled and, leaning across the table, kissed her. He tasted of syrup and blueberries, and she held him there for several moments before allowing him to return to his breakfast.

When he had asked about Eric, he hadn’t expected to feel worry over her answer. Even more so, he feared for the feelings that would lie behind those words. But when she spoke, her voice was lighter than it had been when they had spoken of him before. Even when she divulged to him that Eric was at her home with his new girlfriend, she spoke passively, as if it truly meant little to her. He couldn’t help but to feel relief. George didn’t feel that he deserved her, but he knew that Eric didn’t either. Any man that would be willing to break a woman like Brea’s heart was undeserving of the love that she had to offer. He wanted better for her, even if it wasn’t from him.

He could feel her hand still pressed inside his even after she had released him; his lips still burned with desire as he pulled away from her. He was already making this harder on himself than was needed, but he couldn’t resist her. She was beautiful in the bright sunlight, its beams reflecting off of the pure white snow, illuminating the room easily. Her hair turned nearly an auburn color, her eyes tired, but bright and glimmering. Her skin glowed as well, fresh and still pink. He didn’t want to let her go.

The front door swung open, loose powder blowing in behind the two men as they entered. They were impressively built, both dressed in black from head to toe. George rose from the table as the men entered the kitchen, their eyes never leaving Brea. He could already see the suspicion and concern on his bodyguards’ faces, so before they could do a full body and cavity search, he stood between Brea and them protectively.

“Jim, John, this is Brea.” He turned to Brea but still stood between them. “Brea, this is Jim,” he patted the taller one on the shoulder. “And that’s John,” he nodded towards the shorter, stouter man with a balding head.

The men barely spoke a word to either George or Brea, choosing instead to retire to the living area so they could watch Brea cautiously. He could feel her unease and regretted that they had shown up. Their arrival meant that his time had come to an end. “Will you have them take you to your parents once I leave here?”

He leaned back in his chair, the breakfast making him feel lethargic after having slept so little the night before. “Yes, I think that I will have them take me. Although,” he pondered, “I would like to make a few stops for gifts.”

He had sent gifts the first few years after he had disconnected himself from his family, but it had been years since he’d sent anything. They had sent him gifts every year, but he had chosen to not participate. He’d not even sent them so much as a card, and he felt the guilt of it rising up in him. He had to make it up to them. One day, it would be too late for him to do so, and he wasn’t going to take that chance any longer.

He was confused by the sad look on Brea’s face. Hadn’t she been happy about his announcement to see his family? “George, the only thing you’re parents are going to be concerned with is the fact that their son came home for Christmas. I have no doubt that that’s all they’ve ever really wanted from you.”

He knew that she must be right, because that was all he wanted for Christmas as well. His family and, if he was being honest with himself, to see Brea again. “Speaking of Christmas and family, I suppose you should be getting ready to get home, shouldn’t you?” He didn’t want to see her go, but he wouldn’t keep her any longer than she wanted. He knew that she wanted to spend the day with her family, and he intended on doing all he could to help her get home to them.

Her head pounded and her heart ached, but he didn’t want her here. She had come close to overstaying her welcome. When he suggested that she prepare to return home, she knew that it was her hint that he no longer wanted her there. She couldn’t blame him. He had said from the beginning that he didn’t share this space with anyone, so that he no longer wanted her there was no surprise. Besides, what had she expected?

She mindlessly cleaned up from breakfast before gathering her belongings. George asked his goons to run her down to her car and help her get started. After a quick farewell, she followed them out the door. The cold was bitter on her cheeks, and almost immediately she lost the feeling in her fingers and toes. Her sneakers had dried from the night before, but it took only a half dozen steps for them to become soaked all over again. She followed to the car and allowed Jim to help her inside before they drove her the short distance to her car.

It took them only moments to pry her car from the ditch, and soon, she was back on the road. In an effort to distract her thoughts, she switched on the radio, back to the same station that she had heard news of George to begin with, but she quickly lost her interest. Nothing was going to distract her thoughts from George, nothing except time away from him. Or so she hoped, because she couldn’t imagine not being with him.

She didn’t bother knocking and as she walked into the house. Brea went straight up to her room and closed the door. She had no desire to face her family just now. Not her mother or father, not Brandy, and certainly not Eric or Stephanie. She collapsed on her bed and glanced around at her childhood. The stuffed animals on the shelves, the vanity with photos of her and Eric, her handful of trophies and medals—none of which were for first place. Just one of the many embarrassments for her parents. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to doze, dreaming of the one night she had to remember George by. She would rather stay in that dreamland than to face the day, but her dreams were short-lived, interrupted by a soft rapping at the bedroom door.

Brea sighed and went to the door, snatching photos of her and Eric off of the vanity as she crossed the room. These were going to be the first to go.

She swung the door open to find Eric standing in the doorway. “Hello stranger! I saw you come in, but you just blew through without saying anything.” He scanned her up and down. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you. I’ll be down in a bit.” She turned to go back to her bed, but Eric followed.

“Look, I know that this can’t be easy for you. I’m sure that my being here might make you a bit uncomfortable, but I think that it’s important that we remain friends.” Brea gave him a confused look.

“I’m sorry that things turned out the way they did between us, but I am almost as much a part of this family as you, so we need to find a way to make things work so that you can keep your emotions in line. I’m moving on, and one day, I want for you to be able to do the same.”

Brea wanted to slap him. “What are you talking about? What makes you think…” she started. Eric slowly pointed out the stack of photos she gripped in her hand. She felt disgusted that Eric would believe that she still harbored feelings for him, but before she was able to set him straight, he took her hand in his. She felt disgusted to touch him, but he held her too tightly for her to resist.

“You’ll find someone when the time is right, but I need you to understand that I’m not right for you. I’m sorry. I know that you’ve had a hard time dealing with this and that you were hoping that my being here for Christmas might be our opportunity to work through some things, but it’s not going to work out. I…” he paused, and she could see him searching for the right words to ease her mind and comfort her.

She let him go through it, deciding that there was no point in telling him that she no longer wanted to be with him. Let him think what he wanted. Her mom had likely played a huge part in his belief that she was still in love with him. “I’ve met someone, and she’s wonderful. I’ve brought her along for the holiday. I hope that you can understand. You never know, maybe you and Stephanie could be friends!” Before giving her time to respond, Eric walked out of her room.

Brea glared at the photos before tossing them into the trash can beside her vanity. She went downstairs to join her family and face the music. They were all congregated in the family room, save for Brandy, who was hovering over the stove in the kitchen. Their mother hadn’t cooked a Christmas dinner since Brea and Brandy had come of age to do themselves.

Mrs. Nelson already had a cocktail in hand, while Mr. Nelson had fallen asleep in his recliner. Eric and Stephanie sat across from Mrs. Nelson as the three of them chatted. Brea had to be honest in saying that Stephanie was beautiful. Long blond hair and blue eyes in heavy black liner. She was tall and thin, wearing a knee-length red dress, far too skimpy for the northern winter months. Still, Brea played nice and introduced herself, then turned to her mother who, instead of greeting her daughter properly, held up her glass so that Brea could refill it for her.

“It’s about time you got here. We’ve put our entire Christmas on hold for your selfishness. Have you any idea the amount of work I’ve put into today? Cleaning, decorating and cooking? Selfish Breanne. Just like you.”

Without waiting for Brea to reply, she returned to her conversation with Stephanie and Eric, forcing Brea to carry her mother’s glass to the kitchen to top her off. The worst thing for today would be to allow her mother to sober up. She was actually more pleasing to be around when she’d had a few drinks.

Brandy had just pulled a sheet of sugar cookies out of the oven, but when she saw Brea, she quickly placed the sheet on the stove top and wrapped her arms around her sister. “Oh thank God you’re here! I couldn’t stand it a moment longer!”

Brea laughed, holding her sister tightly. “I’m sorry. I would have been here last night, if I could have.” Yes, she’d of driven right through, but she was glad for her car breaking down. Glad for the few fleeting moments she had with George. It was worth it. “Mom doesn’t look like she’s reached maximum level yet.”

Maximum level was what they considered to be their mother’s peak drunkenness. It was the level at which, since childhood, their mother was easiest to deal with. Now, as adults, the sisters knew that the only way that they would survive the holidays would be if their mother remained at maximum level.

Brandy frowned as she pulled away. “No, not yet. I’ve been trying, but I have all of this to take care of as well.” She flung her hands upwards, indicating the kitchen and masses of food she was in the middle of prepping for dinner. “She’s been a nightmare.” She paused for a moment as Brea stirred her mother’s vodka martini. “Have you spoken to Eric?”

Brea smirked. “Yes, he came up to my room.” Brandy raised an eyebrow, and Brea laughed. “Nothing like that. He came up to make sure that we can be friends. He wants to make sure that I understand that he and I are over and that he is moving on with his life.” Brea laughed again, this time more heartily. “He came in just as I was throwing out all of the photos of us, and all he saw was a fistful of photos.”

“Wait, throwing them out?” Her sister looked to her incredulously. “Are you actually getting over him? Finally?”

Brea blushed, thinking of George. How could she even think of Eric in any way after having been with George? There was no comparison. “No, I’m not
getting
over him. I
am
over him.” Brandy beamed. “I’d better get this to Mom before she comes hunting me and her glass down, and then I’ll come back to help.”

Brandy narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Mom’s already in a bad enough mood with you being late. Don’t give her more reason to give us hell by you ignoring her.”

Brea rolled her eyes but knew that Brandy was right. Christmas was for appeasing their mother, not for enjoying it as a family. “Just give her ten minutes and then get your ass in here. This kitchen is chaos, and I’m going to need help in digging things out.”

She sat off to the side, her mother to her left, Eric and his girlfriend to her right. She felt awkward, out of place, and unwelcome as the three continued to talk as if she weren’t there. She slumped in the chair, her dad’s soft snores lulling her to sleep as well. Her mother’s voice droned, and Stephanie cackled in reply. Was her mother that funny? No, she thought not, but Eric and Stephanie were eating up every word.

She could take no more, and standing rapidly before she could lose her nerve, addressed her mother and the woman’s inconsideration when it came to her daughter. “That’s it! What are they even doing here?”

She did all she could to not scream at Mrs. Nelson as she pointed towards Eric and Stephanie, who both looked as shocked by her outburst as she felt. “Eric and I are no longer together, and we never will be again. He is not a part of this family and never was, so
why
is he in
my
house, spending Christmas with
my
family?”

Her mother feigned surprise, exaggerating her shock and concern for Brea. “I thought you would be happy to see Eric and meet his bride-to-be? I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

Mrs. Nelson had a knack for acting and making those around her remorseful for something they couldn’t fully understand, but this time, the first time she could recall, Brea wasn’t buying. Her mother could see it almost instantly.

“It’s not Eric’s fault that he isn’t a part of the family, and you’re not going to come in here pointing fingers like it is. If you had only done what was expected you, had you only been the woman that your father and I raised you to be, that Eric needed you to be, this wouldn’t have happened.” She turned to Stephanie, suddenly pleasant. “No offense to you, darling, because you are a doll. I only mean that had my daughter been half the woman you are, things might have gone much differently for her.” Stephanie smiled that beautiful but insincere grin.

Brea stood there incredulously as her mother attempted berating her. “We’ve not asked a lot out of you, but the one thing we did ask of you, you failed at, and look at what you’ve lost as a result.” Her mother shook her head. “Such a disappointment. You’ll never be anything other than…” her mother fluttered her hands in the air as she searched for the term, as if the mere thought of the word were a nuisance, “just a barista. You’ll forever be alone if you don’t get your priorities in order and stop being so stubborn! What man is going to want you when you’re so headstrong? Maybe you’ll learn a little something from Stephanie. Maybe you’ll learn how to be a woman!”

Brea closed her eyes for a moment, hoping to drown out her mother’s voice with her own thoughts, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. This time, the front door.

Mrs. Nelson didn’t budge, didn’t even stop talking long enough to acknowledge the door. Another knock. Brea grumbled as she pushed up from the comfort of the chair. It was Christmas, a day for family, and she was in no mood for the nosy neighbors’ uninvited visits. She glanced into the kitchen as she walked by and told Brandy that she’d be right back to help with the cookies and ham. Her parent’s massive entryway dwarfed her beneath an elaborate, overdone chandelier and a hulking double door, with milky glass window panes on either side.

The heavy door swung open gently, but Brea only stood in the open doorway, the cold air breathing in, circling around her and enveloping her into an icy hold. Snow drifted in at her feet, but she did not move. On the other side of the threshold of her family home stood the one man that, last night, she had never wanted to see, but today, was the only man she wanted to see.

“I’m sorry,” George smiled, “but my car broke down and I need to call someone. Do you mind if I use your phone?”

She grinned, her cheeks burning as she stepped into the winter air. She slung her arms around him and kissed him deeply. “Merry Christmas.”

END OF BOOK I

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