The Billionaire's Christmas Bride Page 4

  “Strange, I suppose, since so many of you computer types flock to San Francisco or Seattle,” Grace said, tapping from the elevator. She didn’t have to look at Michael to know that his eyes were on her, zooming in on her lips as she spoke.

  “I couldn’t leave the East Coast,” Michael said. “There’s a magic here that you don’t find anywhere else. Even if you hated that Christmas parade in Vermont, you have to admit it couldn’t have taken place anywhere but the East Coast.”

  “Sure,” Grace agreed. She remembered her disdain for the parade. Perhaps it matched Michael’s disdain for his upcoming wedding. “We certainly have the snow for it,” she added.

  As they walked through the lobby, Grace realized, miraculously, that it was the very day the building workers put up Christmas decorations. They stood on tall ladders, joking with each other, singing Christmas songs in gruff voices. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, small Christmas trees lined the hallways, and tinsel sparkled from the corners, brightening the usually drab interior.

  Grace inhaled nervously, turning her gaze toward Michael. “I can’t believe they’re decorating on today of all days,” she whispered. She was reminded of the gaudy decorations that stocked every inch of that café in Vermont.

  “Why? Because it’s a Tuesday?” Michael asked, his tone light.

  Grace sensed he was teasing, and she reached toward him and whacked him lightly on the elbow. Her cells seemed light up with excitement, just with this brief moment of physical interaction.

  “But of course, I get what you mean,” Michael said. “It’s so strange, meeting you here after all these years.”

  They’d stopped walking. They stood, poised, eyes upon each other in the center of the brightly decorated lobby.

  “I’d love to take you for dinner so we can catch up. Twelve years. I can’t even imagine all the things you’ve gotten up to in that time. All the ways you’ve changed.”

  Grace imagined them seated at a table somewhere in Manhattan, continuing the conversation they’d begun twelve years before as if no time had passed. She imagined discovering that, despite the fact that Michael had seemed so cold to Helen upstairs, they were actually more alike now than they had been before. She imagined them saying the word “soulmate” without irony, affirming that the universe had brought them close together for a reason.

  Perhaps Michael wasn’t excited about marrying Helen, because she wasn’t the woman he was meant to be with, after all.

  But she found herself shaking her head, even as these thoughts swirled in her mind. “Unfortunately, that’s a no-go,” she replied. “It would be inappropriate for me to be seen out with a client.” The lie came out swiftly, reminding her of where she stood with him. He was almost married, and they were basically strangers.

  Michael’s eyes were disappointed. He clucked his tongue slightly, and Grace half-wished that he would try again, saying the words that this was “meant to be.” She knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the invitation a second time. She was riddled with desire for him.

  “I see. I didn’t realize that client rule was real, outside of the movies,” Michael said. His eyebrows were high on his forehead, but his eyes were gleaming, teasing; hinting that he knew the truth behind her refusal.

  Grace couldn’t stand to be with him for another minute more. She wanted him, sure. But it was the worst possible timing. He was about to get married to someone else, and it was time for her to accept it. It was the only possible way to proceed.

  “Well. It was wonderful to see you again,” Grace offered then. “In fact, I’d say it was one of the bigger surprises of my life.”

  “I’m glad to be your surprise,” Michael said, his voice deep.

  Grace wondered, abstractly, whether or not he spoke this way to Helen. She hesitated, tipping her tongue between her soft lips, trying to find the right words for the question. Did he really love Helen? Was he really marrying the right person?

  But she stopped herself. She bowed her head, making an excuse to go the other way on the street, rather than walking along with him toward the park. Snow began to flutter against her cheeks, and she tucked her chin within her green coat, trying to dismiss her feelings.

  When she reached the corner of the block, she turned back, catching the last of Michael’s black pea coat as he turned. She wanted to cry out, to tell him to come back. But he was back to his old life, now. And she didn’t have the time or the energy to wonder about him any longer.

  FOUR

  By the time Grace reached her apartment in the Upper West Side, she was utterly exhausted. She collapsed onto her couch, kicking her heels to the edge of the living room and clicking the power button on the remote. The cooking channel clicked on and began to blare in her ears. It was a welcome relief, and a reminder that she needed to eat something.

  She dialed her favorite Italian place and ordered a small Margherita pizza. As she waited for the delivery guy to arrive, she called Marie, hopeful that she might be able to bounce the events of the day off on her without judgment.

  “Guess what happened?” she began, as soon as the call connected.

  Marie coughed into the phone, clearly still ill.

  “You don’t have to overdo it,” Grace laughed, teasing her friend. “You already skipped the day. You’re off the hook.”

  “Oh, phew,” Marie said, giggling with a slight burst of energy. “You know, I really don’t know how this got me. I’ve been taking my vitamins. I’ve been avoiding kids on the subway at all costs.”

  “Ha,” Grace offered.

  “Anyway, how was that last meeting? The client—what’s his name? Michael?”

  “Right. Actually, I’d met him before.”

  “He’s supposedly the hottest billionaire in Manhattan right now,” Marie said. “He’s invited to all the high-roller parties. I met him once, back when I was dating what’s-his-name. Jeffrey.”

  “Oh, that asshole.”

  “The very same,” Marie laughed. “But Michael seemed friendly enough, even though he does reek of self-assurance. Which party did you meet him at?”

  “Actually, I met him when I was eighteen,” Grace said, hoping the comment wouldn’t sound as weighted as it felt.

  “Like, in college?”

  “No. High school,” Grace admitted. She still remembered how lost she’d been, how unsure. “We were both in Vermont for Christmas. Me with my family, him with his dad.”

  “Oh?” Marie asked, her voice riddled with curiosity. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this sounds a lot like a teenage love thing? You wouldn’t remember him, otherwise. I know you.”

  “It was, as silly as that sounds,” Grace said. “We talked for a long time, sharing our deepest dreams and ambitions with each other, even though we’d only just met. And then we kissed. It was one of the most romantic days of my life. The kind that sticks with you, you know? We were supposed to meet up the next day, but my older brother’s wife went into labor and we had to head back to Maine before I could tell him. I was devastated.”

  “Damn Everett. He ruins everything!”

  “Ha, no. He’s a wonderful kid. Almost twelve, now, unbelievably. Where does the time go?”

  Grace thought back to the day when her brother had had his first child. Nick had wept over the tiny form cradled in his arms. And, despite being upset that she’d missed her date in Vermont, she’d been truly grateful to experience that moment with her family.

  “And now, Michael’s marched back into your life, asking for you to write a prenup so he can marry another woman,” Marie said, scoffing slightly. “How rude of him. It’s almost as if he went on with his life, despite only twelve years passing.”

  “I know, right?” Grace said, giggling. “I can hardly handle the torment of it.”

  “I imagine you’ll be able to make your peace with it when you find out what he’s paying us,” Marie said lightly. “But still, what a strange series of coincidences. I won’t tell him you’re still in love with him if
you don’t.”

  “As if, Marie.”

  “You need to get back out there, Grace,” Marie replied, her voice firm. “You need to get back out there about as badly as I need to get off the phone and take care of myself. I hope to be back to work in two days or less. I don’t want you running the office all by yourself; I can’t trust you not to fall in love with all our engaged clients.”

  Grace snickered, her heart feeling lighter than it had before.

  As if on cue, the buzzer rang from downstairs. Grace said goodbye to Marie, rushing downstairs and grabbing the pizza from the deliveryman, overtipping him, hoping this spate of goodwill would soothe her unsteady heart.

  As she gobbled the first piece on the couch in her pajamas, she allowed the fear, sadness and exhilaration from the day to fall from her skin. She allowed herself just a moment of relief.

  FIVE

  The following morning, Grace arrived early at her offices, hoping to get a head start on the chaotic day ahead. She glanced at Marie’s empty desk as she entered, her heels clacking on the dark wooden floorboards. She made a mental note to call Marie at lunchtime to check in on her, and then paused at the desk of the head secretary, Christina. Christina was about ten years older than Marie and Grace, with nearly twenty years of experience in law offices all over New York.

  Christina answered the phone as Grace walked up to her, and lifted her sharp-nailed finger, alerting her that she would be a moment. Grace would have to wait.

  “This is Long and Sons, LLC. How may I assist you today?”

  Grace waited as Christina spoke to one of their clients, setting an appointment with prim courtesy. She snapped the phone back in its cradle and turned haughtily to Grace, almost as if Grace were wasting her time.

  “What is it?”

  “I was hoping you could hold my calls this morning? I have quite a bit to get through, since Marie isn’t here. I don’t want to be distracted.”

  The secretary gave her a blank stare. “Well, a Helen Wood has already called for you this morning. I can call her back and tell her she’s not important enough for you.”

  Grace held her tongue, watching Christina’s eyes pass over her. “I see,” she said slowly. “Actually, let’s call her back. She’s a pretty important client.”

  “Whatever you say,” Christina said, rolling her eyes slightly. She knew she was invaluable to Grace and Marie, and that she could generally act however she wished without any anxiety about losing her position.

  Grace tapped into her office, curiosity brimming within her. Why in the world would Helen call her? They’d signed the initial documents for the prenup the previous day. They’d only need to meet one or two more times to finalize everything before the wedding. And then, Grace could go back to pretending Helen and Michael didn’t exist.

  Grace listened as the phone rang, gazing out the window as light snow peppered the pane.

  Finally, a bubblegum voice answered the phone. “Hello, this is Helen Wood.”

  “Hi, Helen. Grace Long here. I’m returning your call from this morning,” she said, her voice professional. “Did you have any other questions about the prenuptial agreement?” She drummed her fingers absently upon the desk.

  “Yes, that’s correct,” Helen said, her voice becoming slightly breathy.

  “Are you at your office right now?” Grace asked. “I could potentially stop by in a few hours to speak with both of you, since you’re both there. I’m only a few blocks away.”

  “No, no,” Helen said, her voice low. “Actually, do you mind if I come to you? I have a few more questions, and I really don’t think Michael has time today. He’s in and out of meetings for the next week at least.”

  “That kind of punishing schedule must be hard for the two of you,” Grace offered.

  “What? Oh, um. Yes, it is. Thanks for saying so. And for understanding.”

  “Well, I have an opening in about an hour,” Grace said, peering at her schedule. “You could pop by. We can figure this out together and fill Michael in later.”

  “Sure. I’ll be there,” Helen said. Her smile showed through the receiver, piquing Grace’s curiosity even more. Why in the world was this warm, bubbly woman keeping a phone call a secret from her fiancé? And why in the world was she coming to discuss the prenuptial with Grace?

  Grace could hardly concentrate during the next hour. She brimmed with endless questions. And, as much as she didn’t want to admit it to herself, she hoped to discover just what it was about this woman that drew Michael to her. Why had she gotten the man of Grace’s dreams? And why hadn’t Grace picked up on the slightest bit of chemistry when they’d sat together in her office?

  SIX

  Just over an hour later, Grace looked up from her computer at the sound of Helen rapping her knuckles against the door. She entered without waiting for a reply, her coat wrapped tightly around her bony frame. She tapped forward and shook Grace’s hand, spurting out: “Thank you so much for seeing me. I really appreciate it.”

  “Of course,” Grace said cautiously, surprised at how chilly Helen’s hand was.

  They sat on either side of the desk, peering curiously at one another, like dogs, sniffing.

  “So. Why did you want to meet today?” Grace asked tentatively, but Helen only paused, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to say.

  The question couldn’t have been a shock, Grace thought. They were sat in the very law office in which, just yesterday, Helen had signed a prenuptial agreement with her fiancé. And yet, sitting before Grace, she looked like a child in her first school play. She looked frightened.

  Grace leaned forward. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

  Helen nodded stiffly, cracking her knuckles in her lap. She began to undo the buttons on her coat, easing her body from its dark cave. She was wearing a maroon dress with flower beading. She looked beautiful, if not far too young to be one of the most successful computer programmers in all of Manhattan. “I told you I’m 24, right?” she began, finally.

  “You mentioned something to that effect,” Grace affirmed, remembering that Helen had begun working for Michael at 21 years old. “You must have been some sort of brilliant coder in school.”

  Helen’s face reddened. “I suppose I was. It’s been my passion since I was a little kid. Much like Michael, I suppose, although he doesn’t often talk about his past. Meeting you yesterday was strange, as you were an element of his past. But I’d never heard of his trips to Vermont in the winter.”

  “To be fair, ours was a very, very short tale,” Grace said. “He probably didn’t mention it because he didn’t remember it.”

  She wanted to add that she hadn’t remembered meeting him, either. But she felt the heaviness of the lie before it could leave her lips.

  “Sure. Anyway. When I saw you yesterday, I could tell you sensed the distance between Michael and I. Almost as if we don’t really know each other.” She leaned forward, her eyes wide.

  Grace hesitated. She didn’t want to agree. She began to shake her head, to come up with an excuse. “Of course not,” she began. “You and Michael seem incredibly happy together. Anyone could see that.”

  “Come on. Don’t lie,” Helen said, leaning back in her chair. “Everyone can see how strained it is between us, at least, if they look closely enough. My mother can’t see it, because all she can see is how rich he is. She knows I’ll want for nothing with him, and that’s what she always wanted for me, growing up.” She shrugged. “She doesn’t understand that I can get there on my own.”

  Grace felt strange, getting to know this woman so well. She rarely found herself speaking about her mother and father, her brothers, nor her passel of nieces and nephews—not to anyone. And yet Helen threw out elements of her personal life like she’d read it in the tabloids.

  “I see. Mothers can be a pain sometimes,” Grace offered. “Why are you getting married, then, if it’s all so strained between you? You must love him, in spite of it?” She clicked her pen absen
tly upon the desk.

  But Helen shook her head. “The marriage is a sham, Grace. I felt you could see through it right away, which is why I’m telling you. You saw how brusque he was with me. You saw the way he’d treat me for the rest of our lives, if I go through with this.”

  Grace frowned, allowing wrinkles to stack upon her forehead. “Why in the world get married, then?”

  She already knew the answer, at least on some level, even as she asked. It always came down to money. She’d worked with enough clients to know.

  “Michael was adopted,” Helen said slowly. She eyed her fingernails, looking almost ashamed. “His father was alone his entire life. Michael said the rumor was that his father had almost married when he’d been a young man, but abandoned the woman in order to further his career. As a result, his father grew old, and lonely.”