Page 3 of Merry Kissmas, My Billionaire

Hope’s jaw ticks and there’s a vein popping in her exquisite neck. I’d much rather be tracing my tongue along that vein… and maybe that’s why I’m being hardheaded and hard hearted. I’m not used to people afflicting my heart and on such short notice I’m not prepared. My last relationship it took me three months of tactical dating with the model from Milan before my heart knocked even the slightest in her presence and when she was gone, I was lonely, but I didn’t miss her the way a man should.

But here and now, Hope is making it hammer and jump and giving me cardiac arrest without warning…The audacity of this beautiful and lively woman. I’m about to find out she’s strong-willed and intimidating too.

“I’m happy to be working for you, Trent but I won’t be spoken to like a child or one of your corporate lackeys. I would love to decorate your home…Hell, I’ve dreamt of a project like this but not if you’re going to be a Scrooge.” She’s standing, hands on the edge of my desk, leaning in. While I’m sitting, she’s taller than me like this, peering down the bridge of her slightly upturned nose, with a button finish, the throbbing vein of her irritation with me in better view.

I bet she tastes like a candy cane – sweet with a cool kick.

“Ms. Everly, I meant no offense.” It’s my turn to stand, my height doesn’t put me back in a place of power. I adjust my tie and clear my throat. “I’ve been stressed and I apologize for taking it out on you.” Never mind the stress is directly correlated to her presence.

She accepts my apologies and at that, we sign a few contacts, including an NDA. When you make my kind of money, you don’t just let anyone alter your household.

Maybe I should have Stevie sign an NDA, man loves his gossip.

CHAPTER3

HOPE

With a tight deadlineand the craze of Christmas Shopping, I skip the online ordering and dive headfirst into brick and mortar. Frugality is ingrained into my bones, even with a black card in hand with an unlimited budget, I can’t help but go for bargains.

I find choice vibrant colors to contrast the blizzard of whiteness that is Trent Goldworth’s home. Playing into his name I mix those colors with gold accents. After hours of shopping for fake trees, I determine only the real deal will do. Five tree lots later, I finally achieve the epitome of pines. One large one for the ballroom, another sizable one for the entrance, and a suitably sized one beside a fire where I picture retail store wrapped gifts nestled beneath its branches.

I don't sleep the first week on the job. I still have my current job to attend to and the twins to take care of and I’d consider the lack of sleep toxic if not for the pure excitement vibrating through my bones. I’m doing my dream job. An actual interior design job. I try not to think of the future, not wanting to bring my hopes up too high for them to crash down in the new year. No, for now, I’ll settle on the work’s invoking elation.

Back at the Goldworth home, I pile the goods in each designated room. Golden winter wonderland meets candy land. I have it all mapped out with some wiggle room to swap out possible clashes or design catastrophes. My binder is thick with clippings, receipts, and drawings of plans.

Sleep can wait.

Trent finds me on a tall ladder in the entryway, finalizing details on the first grandiose tree to be erected in his home. From this distance, I almost think I see worry crease in his brows but from his tone, I brush it off as misguided micromanaging.

“Should you be up there?” he asks me, gripping one side of the ladder.

“Not all of us are gifted with height, Mr. Goldworth. But I don’t think even you on your tippy toes like a ballerina could reach this top.” I glance back and down over my shoulder at him, he’s holding the side just beneath me.

My breath hitches as the tension in his face twists, his face burning a bright red as he looks away from me. I’m wearing a dress on a ladder.

He just saw…He didn’t…No!

My cheeks flame brightly as heat courses through me. I can’t remember the color of my underwear but briefly remember from the fidgeting on the ladder, that I’m wearing darkly colored pantyhose.

Averting his gaze, he takes in the numerous boxes spilling over with colorful and gilded decor. “Are you doing this all alone?”

Not wanting to struggle with the conversation, I step down. I inadvertently pin myself between man and metal in my descent.

Is this better than him accidentally spying up my dress?

From the way his arms cage me in, and his white-knuckle grip on the legs, I consider it might be better. With the possibility of perving removed, Trent envelopes me with his eyes chilling blue eyes…and I couldn’t be any further from cold.

“You hired me, should I not be doing this alone?” I ask innocently, leaning back into the ladder’s steps, to provide centimeters of space between us.

“It never crossed your mind to hire subcontractors?” Spoken like a man in business without a budget.

“Ah, but that takes away from my commission, Mr. Goldworth.”

“Trent,” he growls softly.

My heart is pounding too loudly for me to catch what he says. “What?”

“Call me Trent, Ms. Everly.” It’s the softest I’ve ever heard him speak to me.

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