Fairytale Christmas with the Millionaire

“Because some company is trying to force out all of the tenants.”

“Trying to?”

She shrugged. “They’ve sent notices but the fight isn’t over. In fact, it’s just beginning.”

“What does that mean?”

Her gaze narrowed in on him. “Why all of the questions? Are you a reporter or something?”

At first, the thought alarmed her. But as she rolled it around in her mind, she warmed up to the possibilities. I

n fact, the idea of relaying her story to the press became downright appealing. Why hadn’t she thought of it a long time ago?

“I’m not a reporter.”

“You’re not?” Disappointment assailed her. She made a mental note to contact a reporter. “Then what’s with all of the questions about the apartment building?”

“I’m the new owner.”

What? Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. Her gaze searched his. He seemed to be taking a sort of satisfaction in being able to catch her off guard. It wouldn’t happen again.

* * *

Was it really that surprising?

Graham watched as Alina gaped at him. He hadn’t intended to spring a surprise attack. In fact, he’d been expecting her to recognize him. Perhaps he’d done too good of a job ducking the press since taking over as CEO. The truth was that he’d never wanted to live a public life, not like his father, who made the news regularly.

His father had thought the more press coverage he received, the greater the confirmation of his success—his company’s success. And Graham’s mother, well, she would have gone along with most anything that would make his father happy. And his father had only been happy when his company was on top of the business world, when his son was on top of his class, when their family’s name was on top of the headlines. Second place wasn’t good enough.

“You can’t be Graham Toliver,” she said. “He’s much older. I know. I’ve seen the pictures.”

“That was my father, Graham Toliver II. I’m Graham Toliver III.” As the light of dawning settled upon her, he hoped they could get down to business. “Could you sit down so we can talk?”

She shook her head. “I’m working.”

“This shouldn’t take long. I’d like to make you an offer.”

She opened her mouth, presumably to refuse to speak with him. But then she pressed her lips together as though rolling the thought around in her mind before deciding. “I’m listening.”

“Alina.” A server rushed up to them, interrupting before Graham could respond. Her name tag said her name was Sally. “Are you available on Thursday? We just received a big reservation and we could use more help.”

“I... I can’t. I have work at the building to do.”

“Please, Alina,” Sally said. “You know how much these big groups tip. It’ll really help you if that jerk kicks you out of your home.”

Color rushed to Alina’s cheeks. She didn’t say anything for the moment. “Let me think about it. Can I let you know?”

“I’ll mark you down. If it doesn’t work out, you can let me know tomorrow.”

This was the first time Graham had a chance to visualize the Stirling residents as flesh and blood and not merely as numbers on a spreadsheet. He thought she’d at least be appreciative of the extra money he was offering—money his company didn’t have to hand out.

Alina acted as though he was kicking them to the curb with nothing but their belongings. He’d made them a fair offer to move. And then he’d upped that offer if they moved sooner. In fact, his board had balked at the size of the offer but that hadn’t stopped him from making it happen.

Alina turned back to him. “I have to get back to work.”

“I tracked you down so we could come to some sort of agreement.”

She shook her head. “You wasted your time.”