Fairytale Christmas with the Millionaire

dn’t care that it’d snowed overnight and there were a few inches on the ground. Or that below those few inches was ice.

He pulled out from his underground parking spot and set off for Alina’s apartment. Not all of the roads were plowed, especially the side roads, so it was slow-going. If he hadn’t been in such a rush, he’d have realized that public transportation would have been far faster. But he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

When he finally made it to the Stirling, he rushed up the stairs to Alina’s floor. He hoped she was there. With rapid strides, he approached her door. He knocked. When the door didn’t immediately open, he knocked again.

“Alina, please open up. We need to talk.”

“Graham, go away. There’s nothing to say.”

He wasn’t a quitter. “Not until you hear me out. I’m going to keep standing here and keep yelling through your door until you give me five minutes.” When she still didn’t open the door, he said, “And I brought back the wrap you lost last night.”

The lock clicked and then the door opened. Alina stood there in her red-and-white flannel pajamas. Her hair was mussed, but it was the shadows beneath her eyes that drew his attention. It appeared she hadn’t slept any better than him.

“May I come in?” he asked.

She opened the door fully and stepped to the side. He moved past her and into the living room. He noticed that for the first time since they’d decorated the tree that it was darkened. And that was his fault.

Alina took a seat on the couch, crossed her legs and threw a throw blanket over her legs. “Say what you have to say and then go.”

Her tone was flat, which was the exact opposite of what he’d been expecting. It wasn’t a good sign. If she was angry and yelling at him, he could have defended himself and hopefully gotten through to her. But it was like all of the fight that she’d had in her the whole time he’d known her had gone out of her.

He took a seat in the armchair opposite the couch. He held out the wrap. “Before I forget, here you go.” When she didn’t make any effort to reach for it, he placed it on the coffee table. “I’m sorry about last night.”

Her gaze met his, but it was like a wall had gone up between them because he was no longer able to read her thoughts. “What are you sorry about? That I overheard part of your conversation? Or sorry that I found out you’d already made up your mind to tear down the building?”

His eyes pleaded with her. “I’m sorry about all of it. But you know that our agreement lasts until Christmas Eve, right?”

She shook her head. “It ended last night. I’m not going to let you make a fool of me, especially not with her.”

“If you mean your stepmother, I... I was just trying to get her to move right away—to make things easier for you.”

Alina’s bloodshot gaze met his. “Nothing can make this easy.”

“Listen, if you’d hear me out, you’d understand that the building is beyond saving. It failed too many inspections and needs too many repairs.”

“What I hear is you making excuses to push through your plan to build your tower here.” Alina got to her feet. “I don’t think we have anything else to discuss. You need to go. I have your things packed. They’re downstairs.”

He got to his feet, too. “Alina, don’t do this to us.”

“Why?”

His mouth opened but wordlessly it closed again. Silence filled the air as his eyes begged her to forgive him. “Is this really what you want?”

She nodded. “I can’t be with someone that isn’t honest with me.”

“But I didn’t lie to you.”

“It feels that way. You said you’d wait until Christmas Eve and yet it’s days before it. And then to overhear you tell my stepmother, of all people, that your mind is made up about my home, about the home of people that considered you their friend, people that went out of their way to make sure you had the best Christmas party.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Go.”

Her words were like rocks being thrown at his heart. He hadn’t stopped in that moment with her stepmother to realize the mistake he was making. He’d merely acted rashly to solve a problem—the way he did things in the office—figure out a solution and then act accordingly. Only this wasn’t exactly an office problem, it was something much more important.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, “if you’ll let me.”

“Does that mean I get to keep my home—the homes of my friends?”

He couldn’t make that promise because he was already obligated to his board and so many other people. And he had a feeling even if he said she could have the building that things wouldn’t go back to the way they used to be between them.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He’d never been sorrier in his life.