A Very Merry Billionaire Christmas (Special Edition Holiday Novella) (2 page)

"I never stayed at the Bellagio. It's a tourist trap." Daniel glares at her. "You're missing the point completely. Lindsey's not like that. She never has been. Between the two of us, she was the rock. Strong, independent, everything I always wanted to be. She doesn't need...someone like him."

Realization dawns across Maddy's face. "You're not really upset because it's Ben, are you? You're upset because he's
dominant
."

Daniel's jaw twitches. "Of course not," he mutters, turning back to the papers on his desk. "That would be..."

"Silly," his wife suggests. "Some would say unwise, even."

His eyes narrow slightly as he looks up at her again. "This isn't about you and me."

"Exactly," she says. Then, when he just frowns a little, she adds on: "By which I mean,
it's none of your business
."

"He should've considered that before he told me," Daniel growls, softly.

Maddy's eyes catch something on his desk, and she stands suddenly, rounding the corner to grab it. Daniel keeps his elbow firmly planted on the pile of papers, but she slides it out successfully.

"Really?" Maddy folds it in half without even looking at the headline. "You've got to stop looking at these, Daniel."

"I don't have to stop anything," he snaps, jumping to his feet. Maddy stands her ground, crunching the newspaper in her fist. "I have to know what they're saying about me, and I'm
allowed
to be in a bad mood about it, and it's
still
not your business to tell me how to fucking react to everything."

She sighs heavily. "I don't have the energy to fight with you today. But I'm only trying to protect you from a spiral that you know leads absolutely nowhere." Taking a step forward, she lays her hand on his arm - he jerks suddenly, as if to pull away, but doesn't. She goes on. "I
know
you're scared for Laura. I understand. I get it, okay? But you've heard everything the doctors said - she's very bright, and very quick. Her verbal skills are going to catch up. And it's got nothing to do with you."

Daniel's silent for a long moment. "You don't know that," he says, finally, his eyes on the floor.

It's the most honest he's been in a long time.

He's so often looking at the floor. With a monumental effort, he drags his eyes to his wife's face - to her eyes, and after all this time, there is still something inside him that curls up like hearing fingernails on a chalkboard. It's not her. It's him. Her eyes are big and beautiful, they were what drew him to her in the first place. Because he so rarely saw them.
 

Before, when she was only his employee, he mostly looked at the back of her head, so often bobbing silently to music that only she could hear. This endeared him to her immediately, like she somehow operated on the same wavelength. A ridiculous thought, but it made him smile.

He did try to talk to her once or twice, something she vehemently denies, but he knows they had at least a few elevator conversations where her cheeks reddened and she just stared at the industrial carpet, like she thought she'd spontaneously combust if their eyes actually met.

Yet another quirk they shared in common.

It's never gotten easier. That's not true - he can hold her gaze now, longer and longer, especially when they play their games. He can slip into the role of Sir and finally feel at home, comfortable in his skin. That's a gift she's given him.
 

It hurts to look at her, but not as much as
not
looking.

It was a joke, growing up. Not a funny one, per se, but his father certainly made enough comments about his mental state that he always accepted he was weird. Perhaps broken somehow. But until Dr. Stu, as he styles himself, did that interview...

I think there are a lot of undiagnosed people out there, on the spectrum...oh, I'm sorry, I'm talking about the autism spectrum, of course.
 

Take, for example, the head of Thorne Industries. The designer of the phone you've all probably got in your pocket right now. That man's brilliant, but he's not exactly normal, is he?

Not normal. He's never thought he was normal, but he's never actually thought he was diagnosable. A few years ago, it wouldn't have mattered. But now he's passed his genes on to someone else - someone who might have been infected with his chronic irritation at existing in a world full of other human beings, the noise in his head, the feeling like something inside him is constantly, constantly scratching to get out.

His stomach roils at the thought.

Maddy is suddenly wrapping her arms around him, holding him tightly, and it's not the first time he wonders if she can actually read his mind.

The warmth and pressure of her body slowly calms his thoughts, replacing the jangling incessant thoughts with soft blissful
nothing
.

Chapter Two

The Day of the Party

"...catch a tiger by the toe..."

"It's never going to work," Ben cuts in. "There's too many of them."

Jenna whirls around, her heels squeaking on the spotless concrete floors. "You told me to choose. I'm
choosing
. Don't question my methods."

Ben mutters something that definitely includes the word
spanking
, but Jenna pretends to ignore him, even as her cheeks turn pink.

"That one," she says, finally, pointing to a vintage black Impala looming in the corner.

"Interesting choice." Ben grins, going for the key rack. "You just want to feel like Dean Winchester, don't you?"

"I'm assuming that's why
you
bought it," she says, pulling open the passenger door and sliding in. "Obviously I'm Sam, since you're driving."

Ben sticks the key in the ignition and turns slowly, and the engine purrs, growls, rumbles. "I got it because it's badass. I like a car with character. And also, if it turns out we need to fight demons, hey. We've already got the car."

They haven't been on the road for five minutes when she opens the one topic he never, ever wants to talk about again.

"Promise me you'll apologize to Daniel tonight."

Ben sighs heavily. "All right. Okay. Fine. I will apologize to the man-child."

"I'm going to tell him you called him that," she mutters.

"Oh, great." Ben yanks the gear shift. "I'm sure that'll help things a lot."

"Just try to be, like, slightly sensitive, okay? This doesn't call for your usual laissez-faire management style."
 

"You have no idea what my usual management style is," Ben points out. "Here's a hint, it doesn't typically involve spankings for naughty girls who need to learn when they've overstepped their boundaries."

He meets her eyes in the rearview, and they're sparkling.

"Well, thank God for that," Jenna says. "But do me a favor and
tell him you're sorry
."

Ben grins. "Make it worth my while."

The corner of her mouth quirks up. "If you want to christen every car you own, it's going to take a lifetime."

"Good," he says, glancing for the nearest exit sign. "Better get started, then."

***

"We'll be late."

Adrian's eyes plead halfheartedly with his wife as her hand inches toward his thigh.

"Since when do you care?" she breathes, fingers finally coming to rest mere centimeters from where he really wants them. "Just pull over."

His tongue flicks across his lips. "You'll ruin your nice dress," he insists, keeping as much of a poker face as he can manage.

"Who says it's not already ruined?"
 

Adrian can only play hard-to-get for so long. He jerks the wheel, skidding off into a scenic overlook that is blissfully empty on this winding, semi-rural road.

"Trust me," he growls. "You don't know the meaning of the word ruined."

***

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this."

Daniel's knuckles are white as he grips the wheel. His wife takes a deep breath and touches his arm lightly.

"It'll be good for you," she says. "Good for your...you know, brand."

His knuckles only turn whiter.

"It's only going to make it more obvious," he says. "How...not normal I am."

"You
are
normal," Maddy insists. "I mean - in the realm of...okay, look, you're not normal. Neither am I. Nobody's normal. If you talk to half the people in that room, I guarantee you they feel at least slightly similar to how you feel. They don't really want to be there, but they feel like they have to. We're all pretending, a little bit. There's no such thing as people who are one hundred percent comfortable in their skin all the time."

"What about that author you're so excited to meet?" Daniel glances at her. "What is he, an alien?"

"I'm sure he has insecurities," Maddy mutters, folding her arms across her chest. "Are you jealous?"

"I don't get jealous," Daniel insists. "I'm only concerned that he might not live up to your expectations. And he's certainly an obnoxious narcissist. That 'hero' is him, you realize that, right?"

"Of course it is," Maddy replies. "James Bond is Ian Fleming, Hawkeye is James Fenimore Cooper - that's how everyone writes. An idealized version of themselves. Doesn't make him a
narcissist
."

"Narcissists, all of them." Daniel waves a dismissive hand. "Temper your expectations, that's all I'm saying."

"Jealous," she mutters.

He glances at her, with an almost-not-quite smile playing on his lips. "What if I was? I'm allowed."

"Come on." She meets his gaze, sidelong, her eyes half-closed. "I don't care how good of a wordsmith he is, I'd never do the things for him that I'll do for you."

"For instance?" Daniel reaches out and captures her hand, holding it firmly in his own while he holds the wheel firmly with the other.

She quirks an eyebrow at him. "If I didn't know better, Sir, I'd think you were implying I should do something very dangerous and illegal."

"Interpret it how you will." He smiles, darkly. "But if you want to make one single aspect of this night remotely worth my while, you'll do as you're told. And you'll like it, too."

"You haven't
told
me to do anything." She licks her lips, glancing at his lap. "You know if we get pulled over, all the stories about you are going to take a really different turn."

"That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make," he tells her. "But it's not going to happen. I've got very steady hands, as well you know."

"I don't know," she says, playing demure. "We might get caught."

"We won't," he says. "Besides, if you put me in a good enough mood, I'll let
you
drive on the way home."

Her eyes narrow slightly. "Is that a...are you...speaking metaphorically, or...? I mean, I can't quite figure out how you would...never mind," she finishes, finally, seeing him roll his eyes. "Sorry. I should know better than to question your, uh, ability to work out difficult logistics."

She re-situates herself in her seat, leaning towards him.

"Wait," he says. "Take your hair down."

Maddy hesitates. "I'll never get it back up again."

Her husband smiles. "Good."

***

The house is massive.

From the outrageous fountain in the centerpiece of the round driveway, to the immaculately trimmed miles of hedges, to the gold filigree detailing along the wainscoting, everything speaks of wealth and excess. The place is immaculate, gleaming, and yes - Tony Montana's wet dream, more or less.

All three couples arrive at more or less the same time - fashionably late, all of them, unbeknownst to each other, for more or less the same reason.
 

Now, they're all standing just inside the front door, and nobody's talking.

The tension between two of the men is almost palpable. Adrian stays quiet, for once, trying to judge the situation. Maddy and Jenna haven't really spoken in any meaningful way since their husbands started feuding; it wasn't intentional, but their silence hangs like a shadow over the whole friendship.

The clock ticks loudly in the corner, the only sound in the high-ceilinged foyer. Someone clears their throat, and Maddy shifts her weight from one foot to the other. The rustling of her dress is harsh in the deafening silence.
 

Finally, it's Meg who speaks.

"Does anyone else get the feeling we're going to be systematically murdered over the course of evening?"

Jenna snorts. She and Maddy exchange a look, and then a giggle. Ben starts chuckling and then even Daniel cracks a smile.

"I really hope our host heard that," Adrian says, giving his wife a look. She shrugs, and Jenna steps forward.

"Jenna Chase," she says, extending her hand. "Of course you're Meghan Risinger."

"Meg," the redhead corrects her, with a grin. "I guess the rumor mill has been churning."

"The way my wife tells it, you're the most interesting man in the world." Ben shakes Adrian's hand firmly. "She was very excited to meet you."

Jenna's blushing. "Not
very
," she corrects, as Adrian kissing the back of her hand with a flourish. "Just, you know, interested. You're kind of..."

"An oddity," Meg chimes in, eyeing him sidelong. "Billionaire who writes billionaire romance. I know. But he puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like everybody else."

"Shut up, you're ruining my mystique." He kisses Maddy's hand next, who only blushes a little.

"I love your books," she says, staunchly ignoring her husband's long-suffering sigh. "It's so great to finally meet you."

"Well, I'm afraid the reality is a little bit disappointing," Adrian says with a smile. "Ask my wife about how she caught me eating Count Chocula right out of the box the other day."

The other two women just giggle, his human side just making him all the more appealing. Meg rolls her eyes and gives him a look.
Careful
.

What?
he mouths.

She just rolls her eyes again.

"Maddy, I
really
like what you did with your hair," she says, to break the silence once again. "Who's your stylist?"

A soft snort of laughter comes from one of the men, but it's impossible to trace.