Page 180 of The Billionaire's Secret
I stare at the advertisement on the television screen, showing a family sitting down to Christmas dinner.
"If there’s anyone who can cope with this, it’s you." She rubs circles on my back.
I snort, "I’m not feeling capable of much at the moment, I can tell you that."
Another image flashes on screen, this time showing the opening credits of "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas."
"Bloody depressing." She picks up the remote control and switches off the TV.
I chuckle, "I thought you like Christmas."
"I do." She links her fingers together, "But I’ve been overworked filling up orders for Christmas parties since—" she reddens. "Sorry didn’t mean to bring up the... Uh! ...wedding party."
"It’s fine." I pick up a cushion and hug it, "I ‘m glad at least you and Isla benefitted from all that publicity.”
"More like notoriety," she snorts. "But really, it seems whoever said that all PR is good PR, has it right. Isla's booked up into late next year and I have more orders than I can fulfill for the foreseeable feature. "
The paparazzi had blown up the internet with accounts of how a mystery man had held the wedding celebration hostage, then escaped without taking anything. People had taken to calling it a prank pulled by one of the Seven.
Saint had encouraged it by releasing a short statement to the media clarifying that no one had been hurt by the escapade. He hadn’t answered any further questions from the media—who had speculated for days, before one journalist had concluded that it had been a giant waste of time—except for the desserts served at the party, which had been incredible. One thing had led to another, and the internet had blown up with people wanting to find out who had planned the wedding and what the guests had been enjoying; so Isla's wedding planning venture and Amelie’s catering business had boomed in its wake.
All’s well that ends well… Everyone got what they wanted, including Antonio. A shiver runs down my spine. He seems to be sticking to his promise of leaving me alone…so far. If he’d wanted to kill me, he could have when he’d shot at me. He seemed to have purposely missed at that close range. Well, I guess that means he is letting me get on with my life... Such as it is.
"What are you going to do for Christmas?" Amelie asks.
"I haven’t given it much thought." I glance around the flat. "Maybe I’ll stay in here, get some rest," I say.
"You mean stay in and get depressed?"
"I won’t." I hunch my shoulders, negating my own claim, "I’m trying, Amelie." I stare at the blank television screen.
"Why don’t you come up to the cabin with me?"
"Cabin?" I frown.
"The one that Saint said I could borrow for the holidays?" She flushes, "Shit, I can’t say anything without putting my foot in my mouth."
"It’s okay." I force out a laugh, "It’s not like I can go through life being upset every time his name is mentioned."
"I… I won’t go, if that helps. I can stay here and keep you company?"
"Nonsense." I frown, "You deserve this time to rest and rejuvenate."
She turns to me, "I don’t want you to be on your own."
"I’ve survived the last few weeks, haven’t I?"
"Have you?" She looks me up and down.
I flush, "Do I look that bad?"
"Worse."
I yank my hair back from my face, "I…haven’t felt motivated."
"It’s understandable. It’s why I’d rather you not stay on your own through the holiday season."
"And I’m not coming with you, to the cabin."
