The Billionaire's Valentine Vixen

I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my life before I took over as guardian for Linnie after my sister and her husband were killed in an accident last year. Tore me up, but there was no real time to mourn because Linnie needed someone and that someone turned out to be me. My sister was a saint, she married as was expected to a former business rival of the family, encouraged by my father. It settled a decades-long battle and doubled our net worth in the process.

Only thing, he was a total asshole. Personally, and professionally. God rest his soul.

The only saving grace for me is Linnie’s nanny, Renata has stayed on here at the estate after the accident. She’s been with Linnie since she was born and worked for the family here at the house as a cook and housekeeper for over twelve years before that.

A couple days ago, she asked if she could go visit her mother for a few days and of course I said yes. She was supposed to drive back earlier today in time for me to fly to New York.

Only, the lake effect of the snowstorm pounded the west side of the state last night, so she’s snowed in and I’m here flailing around like a cat in a pond. To make things worse, I’m supposed to be on a plane in an hour and a half, headed to finish up a deal with some Australians for gold mining rights on eight-thousand acres of land that abuts our own current ten-thousand-acre claim. It’s a deal that’s been in the works for almost two years and I will wrap it up today if I can get on that plane.

The only thing that’s worked in my favor so far today is Roan called about a half hour ago to say Bria’s best friend Alice was almost stuck on the road about five miles from here. I trust Martel with my life and any friend he backs, I trust.

She’s headed this way, and if all goes as planned, she should be here any minute. I’ll get in my Suburban, turn on the four-wheel-drive and make it to the private airport before they shut down outgoing flights.

Here at the estate, we have a service that keeps all the driveways and such plowed, and it’s only a quarter mile to the main highway leading to the airport, so I shouldn’t have too much trouble if only Alice materializes.

Linnie’s voice is now echoing through the massive stone and wood entryway as she sings O Mio Babbino Caro at the top of her lungs.

God, give me strength.

Family loyalty and support was always important. But, our family motto was more about money, power and success than anything else. My father wouldn’t hesitate to skip out on Christmas morning if it meant sealing a deal or making a profit. Was just how it was and I didn’t question it growing up.

I’m a lot like him and that’s why being single suited me. No children. No anchors. I found dating a distraction and it’s been years since I craved any distraction. Listening to Linnie singing, my heart is full but I’m scared I’m not going to be the stand-in father figure she deserves.

Trying to honor my sister Anita and raise Linnie into a woman able to stand on her own but have a kind heart is my guiding force. I’ve also kept up with my sister’s other passion, which was our family history and collecting anything she could find related to our ancestors.

There’s a shrine of sorts, starting in one of the guestrooms where all the documents and trinkets and treasures she collected over the years are gathering alongside the ones I’m adding. It’s something Linnie and I enjoy doing together. We search for information and artifacts online mostly and she’s fascinated with the stories of our Scottish ancestors and folk tales about clans and the highland life they lived. I think it makes us both feel like Anita is still here with us in her own way.

I step down the hall and into the kitchen as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I retrieve it to see it’s an email update on one of the artifacts I recently found in an online auction. Someone else has placed a bid and I’ll outbid them in the end, but the dude who has the piece listed has been a prick to deal with, so I close the notice on my phone and stuff it back in my pocket. I’ll deal with that later.

Inside the kitchen, I look out toward the rear of the estate. The leaded-glass windows facing the expanse of property are already full of white snowflakes as big as popcorn. The glass enclosure over the heated pool is steamed to a foggy white and memories of swimming and diving off the diving board, surrounded by the house staff, gather into a mixture of warmth and melancholy.