A Billionaire for Christmas (All I want for Christmas is... 3)

“Why not have her report on the sale of EnKor to my father?” Daveed suggested. “It will be hitting all the newsfeeds soon anyway. Why not give the jump to someone I know and like? Plus, it will be one more incentive to ensure Frank Kent signs. He’s a shifty piece of work and in case he gets any crazy ideas about backing out at the last minute, this should put those to rest. Aileen prints all the facts, lets the readers decide. Kent will have to choose between money or jail time.”

“Couldn’t happen to a better bastard,” Murphy growled.

“Agreed.” Heath leaned forward and extended a hand to his friend, figuring he could patch things up with his best bud even if he’d never have the same opportunity with Murphy’s sister. Chances were good he’d never see Aileen again after this. He felt gutted, flayed open, raw and exposed. “I’m sorry. I promise to do better next time.”

Reluctantly, Murphy grasped Heath’s hand and shook on it. “Accepted. Now, let’s go see my sister and give her the details on her new story.”

* * *

Aileen sat in the living room of her apartment, staring at the Christmas decorations her brother and his new girlfriend had left behind and feeling overall like shit. Not that she wasn’t happy to be home. She was. It was just that the final scene of her and Heath’s meeting with Senator Lawrence kept replaying in her mind on endless repeat—the way the man she’d thought she’d loved basically gave away all her hard work without a fight; the way Heath had sold his integrity down the river in order to keep his precious family name untarnished; the cold finality in his eyes when she’d told him she never wanted to see him again.

And she didn’t. Want to see him again. Nope. Not at all.

So what if her chest ached from missing him? The guy was a traitor. He’d broken her trust, broken their deal, broken her heart into a million pieces. Why would she miss that? She’d be crazy to miss that. Right?

Huffing, she laid her head back against the sofa cushions and stared up at the sprig of mistletoe dangling from the ceiling above her head. Stupid holidays. Rationally she knew that none of this was Christmas’s fault, but dammit. She needed someone to blame besides herself for this mess and the holiday seemed like an easy choice, with all of its dumb traditions and twinkling hope and festive promises of happiness.

Happiness? Bah humbug.

Determined to get over it and move on with her life, Aileen pushed to her feet and began dismantling the Christmas tree Murphy and Shayma had abandoned. The last thing she needed now was a reminder of her brother’s newfound happily ever after with his mate. Fairy tale endings were for idiots.

Grumbling about grinches and Goldwins, she grabbed a box to place the ornaments in. She’d been fine before Heath had to go and show up. Perfectly content with her life, both in and out of the bedroom. She had a job she loved, work that was satisfying, goals and dreams and plans. Then Mr. Tall, Blond, and Bossy had to show up and throw it all into utter chaos. Being Murphy’s friend, he knew about her past, about the home life she’d never had and always craved and he’d used it against her. That had to explain why he’d been so generous with her, taking her into his brownstone, buying her all those expensive clothes, lavishing her with the affection she’d yearned for her since she’d been a lonely kid growing up without a mom and with a dad who was too busy keeping a roof over their heads to worry about his children’s emotional needs.

Looking around for a suitable stepladder, she settled on one of the stools at the breakfast bar and pulled it over to climb up on and pull down the annoying mistletoe. She’d just gotten up atop it and was teetering on her tiptoes when a brief knock sounded on her front door followed by Murphy barreling into her apartment without waiting for an answer. Behind him was Daveed and Heath.

“Sis?” Murphy said, eyeing her precarious position. “That doesn’t look very safe.”

“I’m fine, I—” As if on cue, the stool beneath her wobbled and Aileen pinwheeled her arms, searching in vain for her balance. Her heart leapt to her throat and her stomach nosedived and all she could picture were the headlines in the paper the next day: “Dogged journalist dead after decorating disaster.”

Before she crashed to the ground, two strong arms came around her and lifted her against a warm, muscled chest. A chest she was very familiar with, seeing as she’d cuddled against it after lovemaking. Incensed and embarrassed, Aileen struggled in Heath’s hold until he put her down.

Brushing a hand over her jeans and black T-shirt, she mumbled her thanks then focused her irritation on her brother. “Don’t you call before showing up?”

“Don’t you leave notes to tell people where the hell you’re going before disappearing?” Murphy stalked out of the kitchen and over to stand toe-to-toe with his sister, each glaring at the other. God, she’d missed him, so much it hurt.

Without warning, Murphy pulled her into a tight bear hug, nearly severing her breath, and Aileen held on for dear life. “I’m sorry, bro,” she said between sniffles. “I honestly never meant to be away that long. I figured I’d go undercover for a week or so and find what I needed and be back before you even missed me.”

“How’d that work out for you?” Murphy said, his mouth buried in her hair. “I swear to God, if you ever pull some shit like that again, I will paddle your ass so hard, sis, you won’t sit down for a decade.”

“Yeah?” She grinned, squeezing her eyes shut as tears flowed. She and Murphy were as close as two siblings could be. They’d bonded because of their mom’s death and become a team to support each other during their father’s long absences in the military. Nothing could break that bond now

—not time or distance or even life’s unpredictability. Aileen sniffled then eased out of her brother’s crushing embrace, suddenly remembering they had an audience. She stepped back and swiped the back of her hand over her damp cheeks. “Well, you’d have to catch me first, bro. And we both know I’m way faster than you.”

“Bullshit.” Murphy laughed, his hands on her shoulders. “Damn, sis. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She took another step back, only to run into Heath. Aileen moved away fast, as if she’d been burnt, and kept her gaze trained on her brother as she crossed her arms. “What’s he doing here?”

“Heath?” Murphy’s gaze darted from Aileen to the man behind her then back again. “The guys and I were discussing the whole Senator Lawrence case and we’ve got a solution that should work out for everyone.” He snorted. “Well, everyone but that asshole senator.”

“May we sit down?” Daveed asked from where he was still standing near the door.

Eyes narrowed, she gave a curt nod. “You worked it all out, huh? Just like that.”

“Well, it helps when your father is the ruler of a small nation,” Daveed said, settling himself on her sofa. “Al Dar Nasrani will be buying out EnKor and all of its assets.” He checked his watch. “In fact, I believe the negotiations are happening as we speak.”

“And my father is good friends with the Federal Prosecutor who’ll be going over all the paperwork for the deal, so it’s really just a formality. Frank Kent is smart enough to know he either takes what Daveed’s father is offering or he’ll be sitting his ass in prison for the foreseeable future on charges of fraud. With the congressional committee now appointing a special counsel to investigate all of these allegations, he doesn’t have a choice. If all the bribes and shady deals come out, everything he’s worked so hard for will be gone. He won’t risk that,” Heath said, still standing behind Aileen.

“Pretty cool, eh?” Murphy grinned and plopped down into an arm chair. “You can thank us later.”