The Billionaire Who Bought Christmas
“Wedid let you do it.” The woman had been sewing for three weeks straight.
“No, you didn’t. You were so busy circling the wagons—”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No…” Her voice trailed away, and a faraway look came into her eyes. “In fact, it’s all been pretty insulting.”
His spine stiffened. “So sorry to haveinsulted you.”
She gave a chopped laugh. “You know, now that I think about it, I was so busy convincing myself to be grateful, that I didn’t even see you were smothering me.”
Oh, so now he was smothering her? “Did you happen tosee that I was spending a fortune? Or did you happen tosee that you were consuming a fortune?”
She clamped her mouth shut.
He figured he’d made his point. But then her eyes turned to green fire, and he realized how harsh their words had become. They were practically yelling at each other.
He didn’t want that.
He didn’t want to fight with her, and he didn’t want to hurt her. All he wanted was for her to be happy.
“Can we please stop?” he asked.
The fight seemed to go out of her, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “No. I don’t think we can.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Kristy.”
“You simply want to do things your way?”
Well, yeah. That was basically what he had in mind.
His expression must have said as much because she shrank back.
“Kristy.” He reached for her, but she was too fast.
She was off the bed, dragging the sheet with her. “I need to go,” she choked out.
“We can talk about this.”
“Talk about what? We can’t talk about my career. Shall we talk about how you want to sleep with me, but it’s only temporary?”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she kept talking.
“I thought it wouldn’t matter, Jack. I thought I could take your money and your great sex, and whatever crumbs of respect you threw my way.”
Crumbs?Crumbs? He’d given her everything that was in his power to give.
“But, I can’t,” she said. “I just—”
“Fine,” he cut her off, his instincts turning to self-protection. “If you want it to end, by all means, pick a guest room. You’ve done your duty and then some.”
He looked away, clenching his fists, ordering himself not to beg her to stay.
It was four in the morning on Christmas Day when Kristy finished packing the shipping trunks. She needed some kind of closure, and the simple work also kept her from trudging back to the lonely guest room.
She took one last, long look at her waterfall dress, the hot-air-balloon pants, the sunset and casino dresses, the bikini and the roulette evening gown. With a lump in her throat, she closed the trunk, leaving it with the boxes Isabella had agreed to ship to her in New York after the holidays. The other collection would come with her.
She told herself the Irene collection would be fine. It was a strong entry and a really great step for a young designer like her. She could make some connections at the show, build on the technical merit Zenia had seen in the collection, maybe get a chance to do something more creative in the future. Maybe she could even show the desert collection.
She’d see Zenia in London at the show, and Cleveland would fly over to represent Sierra Sanchez. But, after today, Kristy would likely never see Jack again.
She told herself it was for the best. What they’d had together wasn’t real. It had never been real. It had started on a lie and gone downhill from there.
She latched the last trunk, shrugged into her coat, then wandered down the stairs and outside to the spectacular, twinkling gardens and the softly sprinkling snow. It was turning into a picture-perfect Christmas Day.
Her boots crunched on the driveway as she passed lighted trees, sweeping arches and the meticulously decorated porch and pillars that flanked the double doors. A wreath of boughs and pine cones hung on each one, encircling the polished brass knockers.
Kristy carefully pressed on the left-hand door. The hinges glided open, revealing the festooned, marble entryway. All was still and silent. It was as if the entire house held its breath waiting for Christmas Day to burst upon it.
Even though she was feeling tired and melancholy, Kristy couldn’t resist a peek into the great room. A fifteen-foot tree overwhelmed one corner. A huge array of brightly decorated presents stretched halfway into the room, all but burying the stone fireplace. The tree lights were still on, and Kristy smelled fragrant smoke.
Her attention moved to a wisp of white curling into the air from a leather wing chair. It was Hunter.