Page 5 of The Billionaire's Christmas Bride

A slow burn starts up my spine.

"No… No." He cracks his neck, "It will come to me, it will… It’s Malia, right?"

Anger laces the edges of my vision. I draw in a breath, then another.Stay calm, he can only get so much more obnoxious, right?

"Wait, let me try, one more time…" He pats his temple with the palm of his injured hand. "It’s…something French, isn’t it? Like… Valerie, Malory, maybe? No, I have it." He snaps his fingers, "It’s Celine. I got that right, didn’t I?" He chuckles.

I clench my fists, then raise my hand toward his face.

He catches my wrist. "Tsk, tsk," he clicks his tongue. "What a temper you have, little one."

"Don’t ‘little one’ me… You… You wanker."

"Finally," his eyes gleam, "here kitty, kitty, show me your claws."

"I’ll do better than that," I hiss, "I’ll show you how it is to see the sun at night time."

I bring up my knee, aim for his groin.

2

Weston

What the hell?I know what she intends to do, a second before she moves. I step aside and her knee grazes the outside of my thigh. I release her shoulders only to grab the nape of her neck. "Stop that," I scold her, "or you’ll hurt yourself."

"The only one who’s gonna be hurt here, buster, is you." She swings out with her fist.

As if this tiny thing could do anything to injure me? Oh wait, I’d done that on my own, when someone had run my car off the road a few days ago.

I angle my body, but I’m not fast enough. Her fist grazes my side; a burn of heat trickles down my spine. She didn’t hurt me. Instead, my body is responding to her in a manner that leaves no doubt of the fact that certain parts of me would very much prefer to be in more intimate contact with her.

"Stop," I growl.

She makes a noise deep in her throat, "You uncouth, obnoxious, horrible, man." She swings with her other hand, the shot too wide to do any harm. But it causes her to lose her balance, and she topples over, crashing into me.

Softness, curves, the weight of her breasts, even through the layers she is wearing, is a thing of beauty against my chest. I release her nape, only to wrap my hand about her shoulders and haul her close.

"Let me go," she chokes.

"No." I say all casual-like, hoping she’ll take the bait. Whaddya know? The little thing hits out with her fist again, this time catching me on the wrist of my injured hand. Pain flashes up my arm and sparks of brightness dot my vision. Shit, she hadn’t been kidding about her threat.

I grit out the words through clenched teeth, "Stop it before I do something I regret."

"Ha," she scoffs. "I am not scared of bullies like you."

I draw in a deep breath. "Don’t threaten me."

"Don’t underestimate me." She raises her fists.

Ooh, I am so scared.I stifle the chuckle that crowds my throat. Max whines again, I glare at him from over her shoulder. He wags his tail, mouth open, tongue lolling. Of course, I could get my staff in the hospital to behave with that look, but it has little effect on the little rascal. I frown at Max. He pants back, then turns and runs off in the direction of the kitchen. That buys me, maybe, a minute before he’ll be back. Best make full use of it. I train my glare on the handful of woman who glowers up at me. She barely comes to chest level… And that hair? Is she actually sporting streaks of purple? And there is so much of it… Her hair, I mean. It flows like spun gold around her shoulders, catching the light that filters in from the patio behind her.

"Hey," she snaps her fingers, "what are you staring at?"

"Your hair." I reach out with my bandaged hand to touch the shining strands. I bring it up to my nose and sniff it.

She stiffens. "What are you doing?"

"What’s that smell?"