My Christmas Billionaire Read online

  A Billionaire Books Ltd Ebook.

  Copyright © 2018 by Katie Evergreen

  All rights reserved.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Dear Reader!

  Thank you so much for picking up my third book! Is there anything more romantic than a New York Christmas? I wouldn’t know, because I’ve only ever visited the Big Apple during Thanksgiving! But while I was standing on the top of the Empire State Building in November it began to snow—a true story!—and it made me think that this would be a wonderful city to tell a Christmas love story in.

  I love Merry and Christian so much, and I really hope you enjoy their festive adventure in New York! I had great fun writing this book, and I tried to make it as good as possible. But I’m still new to this, so if you see any mistakes please let me know!

  And feel free to get in touch about anything! I love to hear from readers. If you just want to stay up to date on the My Billionaire A-Z, then sign up to my newsletter. I’ll be running giveaways, revealing exclusive extracts, searching for beta readers, and even offering you the chance to name the title of one of the books!

  Just visit my website to join! See you soon! :-)

  katieevergreen.com

  Can You Help?

  The very best thing about writing these books is meeting so many amazing readers! And I really want to give you the chance to help write this series. After My Dashing Billionaire, we are going to meet the notorious Devlin Storm in My Extreme Billionaire. And after that…

  That’s where I need your help! I’m looking for ideas for the next book in the series. What kind of Billionaire would you like to read about for F?

  Funny…?

  Ferocious…?

  Friendly…?

  Flirty…?

  Faithful…?

  French…?

  It’s totally up to you! If there’s a special kind of Billionaire you’d like to see in the sixth book in the series, just write to me or contact me on social media and let me know! If I pick your idea, you’ll get a free book, and a mention on the inside. :-)

  Fabulous!

  Katie xx

  For A, L, A, E, and A!

  I hope you all find your true loves one day.

  And that they’re billionaires.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Katie Evergreen

  Continue Reading…

  1

  2

  1

  “Welcome to Christmas at Carroll’s! It’s the happiest time of year!”

  Merry Sinclair charged up her warmest smile, offering it to the young couple who had just walked through the door. She could see their relief as they caught the blast of hot air that blew down from the vent above, their cheeks glowing beneath their matching red pom-pommed reindeer hats. It was mid-December, and New York was in the grip of a fierce cold snap that was even now battering the streets with hail and sleet. It was already dark outside, and the department store was an island of light and warmth in the storm, with strings of lights in every window, and Bing Crosby’s smooth voice pouring from the speakers overhead.

  Carroll’s was one of the most famous department stores in the world. And it was most famous for being the place to shop during the holidays. People streamed in from 5th Avenue from morning until night, from Halloween to New Year’s, marveling at the hundred-foot Douglas Fir that stood in the wide atrium, decked with over ten thousand fairy lights and a bedazzling golden star. It really was a sight to behold, and Merry had visited countless times over the years to marvel at the decorations and shop for Christmas bargains.

  Now, though, the sight of it was almost enough to bring her to tears.

  She realized the young couple were standing there waiting for her to say something, and she tried to make her smile even wider. It must have been too wide, though, because they started to edge away. Merry thrust a leaflet at them with one hand, using the other to nudge the itchy, oversized Christmas hat away from her eyes.

  “Don’t forget, if you spend over ten dollars you can get a free mince pie and hot drink in the restaurant,” she said. “And enter the charity raffle for your chance to come to the legendary Carroll’s Christmas Ball! Only four days left to go.”

  “Um… thanks,” said the young woman, taking the leaflet between her thumb and forefinger like she’d been offered a moldy banana. They hurried away, and Merry sighed. It wasn’t fair. Ever since she’d been a kid she’d dreamed of working in a store like this at Christmas. Even now, at twenty-three, she should have loved the idea of it. But the truth was she’d rather be anywhere else than here, because something had completely sucked the joy of the festive season right out of her.

  No, not something. Someone.

  Merry growled, thinking of Adrian. Not only had he betrayed her, after a six-year relationship that had started when they were in high school back in Nebraska. Not only had he dumped her last Christmas Eve after she’d caught him kissing his assistant. He’d also ruined Christmas for her forever, and that was unforgiveable. All the lights, all the smiles, all the music—all they did now was remind her of him.

  “Stupid idiot!” she muttered under her breath. “I hate you.”

  “Whoa,” said a voice from her side. “I’m sorry, I’ll ask somebody else.”

  Merry swung around, her mouth open to apologize. The words didn’t make it up her throat, though, because the man who was standing there literally took her breath away. He was a little older than her, but there was a playful shine to his features that made him look younger. His eyes were the color of chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and just looking at them made her feel like she was melting. The sharp angles of his jaw were covered in dark stubble, and his brown hair was still perfectly styled despite the fact he’d just walked in from the wind and the sleet. He smiled at her politely and started to walk away.

  “Wait!” she blurted out. “I’m sorry!”

  He turned back, and she wasn’t sure if he smiled again or not because her hat slipped down over her eyes. She pushed it back up, managing to lose her grip on the leaflets she was holding. They fluttered down onto the floor like snowflakes.

  “Oh, shoot!” she said. “Hang on.”

  She crouched down to retrieve the leaflets, noticing too late that the man was doing exactly the same thing. There was an audible clonk as their foreheads knocked together.

  “Ow!” she said, her hat slipping over her eyes again. This time she pulled it off, her copper-colored hair delighted to be free and flying everywhere. “I’m really sorry,” she said, blinking the tears from her eyes as she massaged her forehead. T
he man was standing up again too, rubbing a red patch between his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked him.

  Fortunately, he smiled, wincing a little.

  “Christmas shopping is a lot more dangerous than I remember it being,” he said, his voice as rich and melodious as a Christmas crooner. “I’m sure this place used to be friendlier. First you say you hate me, then you try to knock me out!”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was thinking about… It doesn’t matter. Somebody else. I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “That’s some headbutt you have there,” he said. “They should have you working security.”

  She laughed, grateful that the man was being so kind. She was on thin ice in the store as it was, and knocking a customer unconscious wouldn’t exactly help her case with the management.

  “I’m going in again,” the man said, holding his hands up in warning. “I’m giving you plenty of notice this time.”

  He crouched down and scooped up the leaflets, handing them back to her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate it. Can I start over?”

  She peeled a leaflet loose and handed it back to him.

  “Free mince pie if you spend over ten bucks. A hot drink too. And if you buy a charity ticket you might even win the chance to come to the famous Carroll’s Christmas Ball.”

  “They’re still doing that?” he asked, glancing at the leaflet.

  “Every year,” she said. “This will be my first, but I hear they’re amazing. One of the best parties in the city. It’s in four days, so you’d better hurry!”

  The man laughed, tucking the leaflet into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He obviously had money to burn because it was a Brioni Vanquish—they stocked them upstairs in menswear for over $50,000. It looked a little small on him, the buttons straining against his impressive chest, the muscles of his arms causing the fabric to bulge. Merry felt her cheeks heat up again, and this time it had nothing to do with the embarrassment of accidentally headbutting him. She looked up at his face to see that he was gazing back at her, a blush creeping into his own features.

  “Oh, um, sorry,” she said. This was by far the most awkward encounter she’d ever had at work, and part of her wished the man would walk away so that she could stop making a fool of herself. But part of her didn’t want him to leave because she was enjoying his company. “Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asked, just to keep him talking.

  “No,” he said. “Not as such. This isn’t really a shopping trip.”

  “Oh,” she said, looking over her shoulder to the enormous tree that glittered in the middle of the atrium. “Just sightseeing? It’s well worth the trip. If you visit the restaurant on the eighth floor you can see all the Christmas lights of 5th Avenue too.”

  He nodded, and his smile wavered, as if there was something heavy weighing on his mind. For all his good looks and strength and money, he looked a little lost. She reached out automatically to touch his arm, but pulled back at the last second. Management frowned on any kind of contact between staff and customers. There was a sudden flurry of cold air and noise as the doors opened, a family walking in from outside. Three kids charged into the store, screaming, and Merry leaned past the man to hand a leaflet to their exasperated mother.

  “Free mince pies,” she said. “And Santa’s grotto is on the tenth floor.”

  The woman thanked her and ran off after her kids. When Merry turned her attention back to the man he seemed to have recovered.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not you. It’s just all this.”

  “Yeah, it’s a little much, right?” she replied. “It’s been like this since the day after Halloween.”

  “Seriously?” he said. “It gets earlier every year.”

  “I know!” said Merry. “Soon it’s going to be Christmas all year round. Christmas Easter eggs, Christmas Thanksgiving. There will be no escape!”

  He laughed, and it was such a warm, genuine sound that she laughed too. He nodded at her nametag, and she felt a sudden rush of embarrassment.

  “I thought you’d be a fan of Christmas,” he said. “Is your name really Merry?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Short for Meredith?” he asked, and she shook her head.

  “Nope, it’s just Merry. Blame my parents, they called me that because they said I made them feel like every day was Christmas. You wouldn’t believe the stick I got for it at school.”

  “I can guess,” he said. “Believe it or not I had the same problem.”

  Before she could ask why, another large group of people walked through the door, forcing the man to take a step closer to her. He was tall, over six foot, and there was the most incredible scent drifting from him—part nutmeg, park musk. Merry had to take a step back to stop herself from feeling faint. She distracted herself by handing a leaflet to another customer, taking a deep breath before turning back to the man.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I love Christmas. At least, I used to. There’s just something about this time of year that’s so special, so much fun. But, you know, when you’re all on your own like I am, it’s…”

  She put a hand to her mouth. Why did she always do this? No wonder men tended to give her a wide berth, she had a habit of throwing every little detail of her life at them within minutes of meeting.

  “Sorry, way too much information.”

  “It’s okay,” the man said. “I totally understand. If you’ve got family around you, it’s the happiest time of the year. But if you’re on your own, it can be the loneliest.”

  “That’s it,” she said. “Exactly.”

  The song overhead changed to the Little Drummer Boy, and Merry shivered as another blast of cold air blew in from outside. The man still showed no sign of leaving and she wondered if it was because he was enjoying talking to her. The thought of it made her panic, because whenever she started talking, she messed things up. Besides, there was something in his expression, and in the way he kept glancing into the store, that made her think there was another reason he was here.

  “So, what about you?” she asked. “Have you got family here in the city?”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding. He looked like he was about to say more when somebody cleared their throat behind him. Merry’s heart sank as Mrs. Cradley stepped into view, her clipboard gripped in her talon-like fingers, her cold eyes glaring through her black-rimmed glasses.

  “Miss Sinclair, may I have a word?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cradley,” Merry said, flapping a leaflet in the handsome man’s face, even though he already had one. “I’m handing them out the best I can.”

  “This is neither the place nor the time for small talk,” Mrs. Cradley said, offering the man a dismissive smile that was almost rude. “I’ve been watching you for some time now. How many times do I have to tell you that we do not pay you to chat?”

  “I was just…” Merry started, but she didn’t have anything to add. She was just chatting. “I won’t do it again.”

  “Excuse me,” the man said, looking Mrs. Cradley in the eye. He seemed to have straightened up, because he was even taller now than he had been moments ago. The force of his words made Mrs. Cradley lean back, holding her clipboard up protectively. “This young woman was just helping me decide on what to buy my fiancé.”

  That hadn’t been what they were talking about at all, and even though she was grateful to him for defending her, Merry’s stomach turned unpleasantly when she heard that he was engaged.

  “She was being extremely helpful, and I don’t think she deserves to be treated like this. She’s a credit to your store.”

  Mrs. Cradley’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. She opened her mouth, then paused. She looked at the man, a strange expression on her bird-like face. Then she muttered something and hurried off into the perfume hall, using her clipboard to flap people out of the way.

  “Wow,” said Merry. “I
’m so sorry that happened.”

  “You really don’t have anything to be sorry about,” the man replied. “She was completely out of order.”

  “Maybe,” Merry said, handing a leaflet to another customer. Her hand was shaking, and she hoped that nobody would notice. She hated confrontations so much. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball beneath the half price saucepan sets across the aisle and hide there for the rest of her shift. “Maybe not. I do talk too much. I just forget myself sometimes.”

  “I like to talk,” he said, and she smiled gratefully.

  “So, do you want some advice on what to buy your fiancé?” she asked, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. “There are some amazing pieces of jewelry on three, and we’ve got a new art department. If you like, I can show you around?”

  “No, thank you,” he said. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then glanced at his watch instead. “I’d better get on, my dad’s expecting me.”

  “So you do have family,” she said, smiling. “That’s nice.”

  “Yes to family,” he replied. “But no to nice. He’s not exactly the kindest of men.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “But it’s a magical time of year. Maybe this holiday will be different, maybe it will be better.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “It was nice to meet you, Merry.”

  He offered her his hand and she shook it eagerly.

  “It was nice to meet you too,” she said, tilting her head expectantly.

  “Christian,” he said, taking the hint. “Have a very merry Christmas, Merry.”