Page 4 of Merry Kissmas, My Billionaire

My smile is wide as I catch on to the crumbling of his professional facade. “Then please call me, Hope.”

“Do be careful, Hope.” He eyes the ladder up and down before refocusing back on me. I notice then the sweet crisp smell of brown sugar and smoke, a sweet bourbon masculine cologne. My eyes close slowly as I inhale, excusing myself with the idea that it’s to calm my racing heart.

“I will,” I promise in a whisper.

In an instant, he breaks away and storms off. As though on cue, my heart settles in his lack of presence.

Don’t be like that,I swear tapping at my chest over my heart I’m in trouble if it keeps behaving like this. I have work to do and my mind needs to be on decorating this billionaire's home, not on the billionaire himself.

More than just his heart-racing impression sticks with me. He isn’t wrong, I’d taken on a large job all by my lonesome in an effort to keep the money for myself. My kiddos deserve it…I deserve it.

Kiddos.

A grin splits across my face as I check the time and grab my coat. The girls will be out of school soon and I need worker bees.

CHAPTER4

TRENT

I askedher to call me by my first name. I never do that. She’s an employee…technically she’s on my bankroll. Though she really has nothing to do with my work. She’s a contractor in my personal life. HR has no place in my head then.

I scowl as I pace my office, where I fled after my close encounter with Hope by the tree. I slump back into my chair and stare at my monitor, grimacing at the idea of checking email when there is a beautiful woman in my foyer.

Looking past my monitor I notice boxes I hadn’t seen yesterday. I peel off my coat and kneel down, opening each box to find golden accents and reefs with candy canes. Hope must have the intention to decorate every inch of my home… and all by herself? I grit my teeth, considering upping her fees to allow subordinates at her beck and call. She is after all being paid a paltry sum in comparison to what Emily usually charges me for design.

I empty the boxes and applaud Hope for her choice. While the hallways and some guest rooms are flourishing with colors and Christmas themes, she’s keeping the decorations for my office uncomplicated. Just enough that one can taste milk and cookies in the air, but not enough to irritate my senses and distract me from work.

Not returning to work, but revisiting the contract between Hope and me, I regard the fees she's determined her pay outside of the costs of her purchases for the work itself.

“Too low,” I murmur and simply add two zeros before tucking it back into its neatly organized folder.

Giggling decks my halls as high-pitched squeals of delight accompany a motherly hush. I abandon the seclusion for my office to peer down from the railing to the foyer.

Hope is hushing two girls, as they all shed coats, scarves, and hots thoroughly coated with snow. There isn’t a window in my office, I had no idea it was coming down that much outside.

“Hope,” I greet, descending the stairs. I didn’t know she’d left.

“Mr.– Trent.” Her cheeks are already pink from the cold-warm to a deeper shade of red. “Trent, these are my daughters, Juniper and Rudy.” The twins are nearly identical except for their hair color. Both girls share their mother’s expressive blue eyes but sharper, elf-like features they must share with their father.

Funny, I never noticed a ring, I stare hard at Hope’s gloved hands.

“Mom,” the one named Rudy, with dark hair, dyed black in a show of difference from her twin, speaks up.

Hope giggles and slides off her gloves, revealing ringless fingers. I’m not sure what’s demanding more blood, my groin, or my heart.

“I’m sorry. Trent, let me introduce my hired help,” She winks at me.

My heart wins as I extend a hand formally to each pre-teen. As I shake each of their hands, I notice in more detail how they have more than just hair color in the difference between them.

“I’m glad to see you took my advice,” I straighten up, eyes gluing themselves to Hope as she dusts the last trace of snow from her hair. Looking outside, I can barely see the day of light. “It’s really coming down. Were the roads bad?”

“Mom almost crashed!” Juniper snitches on her mother before Hope can dismiss my worry.

Hope purses her lips, holding back a swear. “Juniper, what did I tell you?”

“Snitches get stitches!” Rudy answers first, taking a candy cane and diving after her sister. Juniper squeals and they chase each other around the tree.

“Girls!” Hope is solidly pink from her ears to the chest. “This. Is. Work.” She takes their candy-cane weapons and shoves a box of ornaments into each of their arms. “Decorate or you can say goodbye to the agreed-upon terms.”

---