The Billionaire’s Christmas Vows: A Jet City Billionaire Christmas Romance (5 page)

I listened to him vent. He sounded tired and spent. But I knew him. He'd down another can of energy drink and keep going.

"Am I going to see you at all between now and Christmas?" I tried to make my tone light and teasing. But I wasn't sure I'd succeeded.

He snorted. "Maybe. If you come to the office." He inhaled deeply.

"Do you want me to send you your pillow and a blanket?" I joked.

"Are you kicking me out?"

"Are you crazy? No!" I laughed softly, but I was deeply disappointed and worried. "Just trying to make you comfy at your new digs."

"Kay, I'm sorry. This isn't what I'd planned. I know how much you love the holidays—"

"Do what you have to, Jus. Just don't forget about me."

"Never." He paused. "Thanks for understanding. I love you."

I loved him, too. More than I cared to admit. I was going to marry that man. Really marry him. No matter how many obstacles the holiday season threw in my path.

K
ayla

The port strike had made it blatantly clear that I was going to have to marry Jus on Christmas Eve. And not a day sooner. Jus wouldn't break away until he was sure all of Flash's Christmas orders had shipped, the customers were happy, and Flash was out of danger. Challenges, challenges.

I was undeterred. Fate could throw whatever it liked at me. It could be a complete bah humbug. But I was marrying my guy if I had to squeeze the wedding into the season with a red and green shoehorn. Wedge it right in like a foot into a too-tall designer heel.

The more I thought about getting married on Christmas Eve, the more I liked it. It was even better than Valentine's Day! For the rest of our lives we could give each other gifts that were also secret anniversary gifts. Yes, better and better.

It would be our very own tradition. Something we'd started. Something secret to us. Christmas would be our holiday in so many ways.

As I plotted my Christmas wedding, I got a text from my mom:
Does Justin like cinnamon rolls? Should I make my cinnamon roll Christmas tree for Christmas brunch this year?

I rolled my eyes. Who didn't love cinnamon rolls? But this was Mom's subtle manipulation in her bid to win more time with us over Christmas.

I hesitated. Maybe if I was noncommittal but replied that of course he loved cinnamon rolls, I would be in the clear.

Before I could answer, I got a text from Justin's mom, Diana.
Booking our flight to the Bahamas. We can leave as late as five and still make it to the Bahamas in time to settle in before the tournament begins the next day. What do you think? Justin isn't answering my texts.

Oh, boy. I made up my mind then and there. I was going to put an end to this war of the Greens and Lucases. And establish a precedent—Jus and I did our own thing for Christmas. At least this year, we did.

We were fighting an unwinnable battle. No matter what we did, one set of parents was going to be miffed. So if they were both miffed together, at least they would be equal. No one could accuse us of playing favorites.

As much as I loved my parents, I loved Jus more. I couldn't tell them what I was really up to. If I could, they would back me completely. And insist on coming along. So they would just have to trust me this year. And understand that I wanted to whisk Jus off for a romantic first Christmas together.

The only problem remaining was Dex. How was I going to convince him to be our witness on Christmas Eve and take a red-eye home for Christmas morning?

If this Christmas Eve wedding was going to happen, I had to meet with our lawyer Harry Lawrence and get him to get that twenty-four-hour waiver.

Harry was Justin's personal lawyer. He also did some work for Flashionista. Harry had drawn up the original legal agreement, the postnuptial agreement, that had guaranteed me ten million dollars for staying with Jus for a year and divorcing on our first anniversary. Jus and I had torn it up when we decided to stay together.

On Wednesday morning, I packed a bag for Jus so he had more than a change of clothes at work if he needed. I also packed his pillow, a spare Christmas blanket, and those Mr. Claus socks. Once he discovered how comfy they were, he would wear them. I knew he would.

I loaded them in the car and headed out for my emergency appointment with Harry.

Harry was the kind of guy who looked like he was born to wear a suit. He had that kind of build. He was classically good looking. So handsome that his looks were wasted in the law profession. He really should have been a model.

Harry and I had started off on the wrong foot when we first met last June and he'd had me served with divorce papers for a marriage I hadn't participated in. At the time, I'd thought someone was pranking me. And that Harry was an arrogant douche.

For his part, Harry had believed I was a gold digger after Justin's money. Since then we'd gotten to know each other and realized that our first impressions had been off. He was still mainly Justin's guy. But he'd helped me out with some of our charitable foundation work, too.

His office suite was decorated for Christmas in tasteful blue and silver. There was a freshly cut tree in the lobby. Innocuous holiday music played softly in the background.

After settling into his office and closing the door, I came right to the point. "I want to marry Jus in New York State on Christmas Eve. I need you to do several things for me to make it happen. First, I need you to draw up a postnuptial prenup giving me the original ten million dollars Jus promised me should we ever divorce. Which we won't.

"I would have you make it for one dollar. But I know Jus wouldn't go for that. The point is I want Jus to know I'm not marrying him for his money. He can't really argue with the sum he originally named. Ten million is nothing to him.

"Second, I need a judicial order waiving the twenty-four-hour waiting period so we can fly into New York for Christmas Eve morning, get the license, and be married immediately.

"Third, the marriage records have to be sealed as private so they aren't published to the public record. Fourth, I need an officiant who requires a second license. Should you handle that or should I get Justin's private investigation firm on it—"

"Wait. Stop. Slow down." Harry leaned back in his desk chair. "Why do you want to get married in New York? As far as any legal or governing authority is concerned, you're already legally married."

I explained my motivation, what I had found out, and how I wanted the marriage to be unassailably genuine and legal.

Harry waited for me to finish, and then broke into his counterargument. Typical for Harry. "While I understand your desire to marry Justin and sign a license yourself, why court trouble?"

I frowned. "What trouble?"

He hesitated. "If the paparazzi gets wind of any of this, they'll have a field day. The more people you involve, the officiant, for example, the greater the chance the truth gets out. Why risk it?"

I shook my head gently, disappointed in him. But not surprised by his caution. "You're clearly not a romantic, Harry. Which is just too bad. You could be some girl's knight triumphant." I smiled to soften my statement. I was only half teasing.

"Love is worth taking any chance for. I want to be genuinely married to Jus. I want to vow to love him for my entire lifetime. And you, of all people, should be able to see that a legitimate marriage would silence all critics and any legal challenges."

The baby chose that moment to kick me. Hard. It took my breath away. I winced and rubbed my belly to soothe her, which drew Harry's gaze to my baby bump.

"Prenup. Postnup. Or whatever the hell it would be now. Even as your lawyer, I'm losing track. I'll draw something up if you insist. But if I know Justin, he won't sign it, no matter what the dollar amount." Harry frowned in thought. "I'm not sure about the legality of a postnup prenup. There's no case law that I know of. How the hell would it stand up in court?"

He shook his head. "You don't need one, anyway. That baby is your insurance. Justin will take care of that baby no matter what."

"I want postnup prenup, anyway. It may be an empty gesture, but it's the thought that counts. Isn't that what they say?" I held his gaze.

Harry nodded and slapped his desk. "If that's what you want. Our office has a branch in New York. We should be able to handle everything. I'll get on this right away."

I smiled at him, relieved.

After I left Harry's office, I made my weekly Wednesday visit to the children's hospital. Jus used to go on his own. Then I joined him. And since peak had hit, I'd mostly been going on my own. Jus gave huge sums to the hospital. It was easy to see why. The children and their illnesses and triumphs would win over the hardest heart.

I was on a mission to make sure every child that was in the hospital on Christmas or Christmas Eve got a special present. With that in mind, I was keeping an eye on the long-term patients, those I knew had little chance of being discharged for Christmas. I'd been subtly questioning them and helping them write their letters to Santa.

On my way from the hospital to Flashionista, I stopped by the bakery up the hill from Flash and bought out their selection of holiday cookies to take to the office. And a nice stuffed meat pastry for Jus for lunch. I had a meeting with Britt, Sarah, and Marla, the head merch buyer, to discuss the upcoming Santa Sample Sale.

I showed up at Flash carrying a box of snowflake cookies, Justin's pillow and lunch, and wheeling his suitcase.

J
ustin

My phone rang as I was coming out of our latest meeting.
Mom.
She knew better than to call me at work. She'd been texting all morning. I hadn’t had time to answer.

I picked up as I walked into my office and closed the door. "Mother."

She hated being called mother. I used the term in a jokey, reprimanding way. In that tone of voice she liked to use on me when I was in trouble.

"Justin Arnold Green," she responded just as quickly in the same mock reprimand.

We broke out laughing together.

"You're finally taking your old mother's calls now, are you?"

"Only because if I don't, you'll call out the National Guard."

"Oh, I don't think I'm happy enough with you to do that. I'd rather keep texting and calling until I drive you crazy."

She was still teasing. Sort of. There was a biting edge to her sense of humor.

"I've been swamped all day. A little thing called a port closure has had my attention."

"Yes, I know. I do watch the news from time to time." Her tone softened. "And it's peak. We're all busy. Dad and I are scrambling to get the last-minute travel arrangements made for the teams and put the rugby tournament schedule together.

"I didn't raise a wimp or a quitter. You'll handle it. You always do."

I appreciated her vote of confidence, but I hadn't dealt with a shipping stoppage of this magnitude before. And certainly never during peak.

"I'm sure you don't have much time, so I'll keep this brief," she said. "I need to know your plans for Christmas so I can finalize our travel plans. You'll be here on Christmas Eve after dinner and on Christmas morning, right? Isn't that our allotted time slot?"

It was more a directive than a question. Mom was used to coaching and commanding. She didn't take a backseat to anyone, least of all me. The fact that I was a billionaire didn't impress her much. It would have been better if I'd been a professional athlete.

"I'm glad you called about that," I said, trying to catch her off guard. "I've been meaning to talk to you about Christmas. I may be able to arrange to spend Christmas morning with you, if you'll do something for me."

"Justin." The frown in her voice was deep. "Some things never change. You've been negotiating since you were little." She gave a heavy sigh. "What am I going to have to trade to get a little time with my baby boy on Christmas?"

"For one thing, you can stop calling me your baby boy."

She laughed. "And for another?"

I hesitated. My mom wasn't a girly girl in any sense of the word. She was a complete extroverted tomboy, a girl jock. Which was part of the reason she and I had never understood each other. I was the black sheep of my family—the introverted non-athlete of her trio of boys. The only introvert in the family. She and Dad were both as extroverted as they came. Which explained why they loved team sports so much. If I had been athletic, I would have done an individual sport like track or tennis. Team bonding didn't appeal to me.

Mom was impossible to buy for. She didn't like jewelry, which I could get awesome deals on. Or trendy fashions. And perfume and anything scented gave her a headache. Basically, anything Flashionista carried, except maybe for a few odd housewares, were not my mom's thing.

She also wasn't the type of woman who enjoyed the arts. Give her a rugby, hockey, or football game any day of the week. Just don't make her watch the ballet. I was about to call her bluff. The secret to negotiating was to have something the other person either desperately needed or wanted. I had the upper hand.

"I'll give you your Christmas morning for the pleasure of your company at
The Nutcracker
on Christmas Eve. With the caveat that you have to convince Dad, Jerod, and Jeremy to come, too."

"You bought tickets to a Christmas ballet for
our
family? Have you lost your mind?" She laughed.

"Not just ours. Kayla's, too. I went to a lot of trouble to get tickets for
both
families. So Kay and I could spend Christmas Eve with
all
the people we love."

"Oh, bleh. Don't make me gag," she said. "You're really laying it on thick, boy-o." There was a shudder in Mom's voice. "Did those Lucases put you up to this?"

"No.
Kay
loves
The Nutcracker
. It's a surprise for her." I was taking pleasure in Mom's discomfort. "It's on me. And dinner after. At Dad's favorite steakhouse on the waterfront to make it up to you and the brothers." I grinned. "You can get all dressed up. Behave yourself and I'll buy you a new evening gown."

Another point for me. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen my mom in a dress of any kind. She belonged to the pantsuit set.

"How did I raise such an evil boy?" But she laughed.

Mom's favorite attire was a tracksuit or sweats. When she had to dress up, she wore slacks. I was pushing her hard.

"Make it a pantsuit and I'm in."

Did I call it or what?

"A dressy pantsuit," I said. "With some sparkle to it. And heels. Nothing less than two inches."

"You're pushing your luck," she said.

"Deal?" I had her on the ropes.

"Deal." She paused and broke into her evil winner's cackle. "Sucker! How many times have I told you to do your research, Justin? I've actually been wanting to see this new
Nutcracker
. See if it lives up to its predecessor.

"The last time I went was before you were born. With my grandma the year before she died. Fond memories. Fond memories. Your dad has refused to take me again all these years. He'll have to cave now, won't he?"