A Billionaire for Christmas

The thought makes me angry and fuels me to walk toward my suitcase.

Last night was a mistake.

“Fine, thank you,” I answer him brusquely although I can’t look him in the eyes. I stop when he asks me, “Is something wrong?”

“Just feeling out of sorts.” I hope he’ll just accept it and let me go about my way. I’m a fool for getting drunk last night.

“Do you need help with that?” he offers and rises from his seat.

I shake my head so fast that my hair swishes against my shoulders.

“Are you being shy?” he asks me, walking around the counter to a coffee maker. The sight is instantly accompanied by the smell of coffee, and that alone is enough to tempt me to stay just a bit longer.

Shy? Not quite the right word. I clear my throat. “Just a bit embarrassed about last night,” I admit, feeling anxiety creep through me.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” Alec says as he takes a mug out and pours a cup of black coffee. I note that he doesn’t add either creamer or sugar as he takes a sip.

He stares at the coffee and then across the room to look at me as he says, “I enjoyed last night.”

The way he says it makes me question if we did have sex. We didn’t though. I distinctly remember coming on to him and being denied.

I hesitate to come up with a response, and he smiles at my frustration. “It was fun having someone to talk to. I really enjoy your company, Lila,” he says with his voice full of sincerity.

I nod my head once. “It was… fun,” I finally say.

A deep rough chuckle fills the room. “Is that why you seem to be in a hurry to leave?” he asks, and it makes me feel like shit. I don’t want to be obvious, but really, what did he expect? Maybe it would have been different had I woken up in his bed in the morning, but then again, it probably would have made me feel even more like shit.

“I just don’t do this,” I say and gesture between us.

“I don’t either,” he’s quick to reply and then takes another sip of his coffee. He gives me a tight smile as he says, “You’re the first person to stay here since my brother’s left.”

His admission catches me off guard. I’m not that naïve. I narrow my eyes at him, but he only shakes his head. “I wouldn’t lie, Lila.” He reaches into the cabinet, turning away from me and picking up a mug. The ceramic clinks against another cup before he sets it down on the counter.

“Would you like a cup? Maybe some coffee and a hot shower will have you feeling better?” he offers.

The thought of both a hot shower and fresh cup of coffee makes me relax almost instantly.

Yes, that’s just what I need. “Please,” I answer and walk toward the island. I’m acutely aware I’m only in Alec’s dress shirt and my underwear, but he doesn’t seem to mind in the least. His reaction is surprising, in the best of ways. “When I came down here, I wasn’t sure what to expect,” I tell him and watch for his response.

“And?” he asks me.

“And what?”

“Are you happy I hadn’t run off?” he asks with a smile and then brings the cup to me. “Sugar?” he asks. I stare at him from across the counter.

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him simply. “You don’t need to cater to me and do all of this-”

“Do you think I don’t want to?” he cuts me off, not bothering to wait for me to answer that yes, I do like sugar and creamer. Instead he goes about fetching both, setting them on the counter opposite me. “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to, Lila.” His brow creases as he looks back at me. “Like I said, I enjoy your company and there’s certainly nothing wrong with me being accommodating for a guest.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, giving in and trying to show my gratitude.

“You’re skeptical, and it’s because I’m attracted to you,” he tells me as I spoon out a large heap of raw sugar and dump it into the steaming mug. I nod my head once, my eyebrows rising.

“Yes,” I say and look him in the eyes. “You just want to get into my pants?” It was meant to be a statement, but it turned into a question.

He smirks at me. “If that was the case, we’d still be in bed, Miss Travers.”

I glance down at a dark gray swirl in the granite countertop and then back up to him, picking up the small porcelain pitcher of creamer and watching it lighten the dark coffee. “Why is it that we aren’t?” I ask him slowly and carefully, dreading the answer.