The Billionaire's Christmas Miracle (Sweet Billionaires 3) Read online

  Manuel nodded. “I will do my best, sir.” Then he shut the door and Drew was left alone in the dimly lit interior of the limo.

  Chapter 2

  Gwen stepped out of the limo and looked up at the massive hotel rising against the moonlit sky. It was one of the largest in the city, and though she knew of it by name, she had never been inside. Why would she? One night’s stay in this place probably cost a week’s worth of her pay.

  “Thank you,” she said to Carrie’s driver as he held the door open for her. The man blinked at her and nodded. Was he surprised? Did Carrie never thank him? Maybe she was just too used to the service or in too much of a hurry, but Gwen was neither. She was still unsure she wanted to go through with this, but a tremor of excitement flickered inside her.

  The limo door closed behind her, and the sound caused her to jump. She was too skittish. Then a chill swept through the area, and Gwen pulled her shawl tighter across her shoulders. Winter was on its way, and as the limo had just pulled out, her only options were to enter the building or stand outside on the cold, dark sidewalk. The latter held no appeal.

  Before she had time to change her mind, her feet carried her across the pavement. Orange and red leaves from nearby trees squished under her shoes, still wet from the most recent rain. She took a moment to rub her feet across the red carpet that rolled out of the hotel and under the large awning. Tracking wet leaves into the hotel would surely be frowned upon. A bellhop, dressed in maroon and gold, smiled and held the door open for her, and Gwen stepped inside.

  She clamped her lips together to keep her jaw from dropping. The inside of the hotel dripped with opulence, but someone with Carrie’s money probably wouldn’t have thought twice about it. A vein of gold ran through the marble flooring and carried up the walls and across the ceiling. An enormous chandelier hung from the middle of the room sending rainbows of color cascading across the area, and one wall held a fountain apparatus that made it appear water flowed down the wall. Gwen had never seen such a beautiful room.

  “Can I help you?” The deep, velvety voice came from behind her.

  Gwen pulled her shoulders back hoping to appear confident as she turned to the masculine voice. A man wearing a white shirt, black pants, and a cape stared back at her. A large mask hid most of his facial features, but Gwen saw his icy blue eyes and his perfect lips beneath the mask.

  Her stomach clenched, and she forced her voice to sound even and not the jittery mess she felt inside. “Um, I’m here for the Masquerade Ball.”

  His lips turned up at the corners, hinting at the sexy smile that could follow. “Well, as fate would have it, so am I. May I show you the way?”

  Gwen’s heart raced in her chest. She wanted to go with him, this Adonis, but he was a strange man, and if foster care had taught her anything, it was that she couldn’t trust everyone. “I…”

  Now his lips pulled into that smile, and it was even more charming than Gwen had pictured. “I understand your hesitation.” He leaned in and glanced around. “I’m Drew Devonshire.” He paused as if waiting for that to mean something to her, but his name meant nothing. Was she supposed to know him? Was he famous? “This is my hotel.”

  The light went off in her head. The Devonshire Hotel, of course, but was he really a Devonshire or some con man just pretending so he could lure her off somewhere? Gwen shook her head. She needed to get her morbid ideas in check. Not everyone was out to get her. He appeared perfectly respectable, and this was a public hotel. However, stories of people killed in hotels littered the internet, and she‘d read H. H. Holmes built one for that very reason. She took a deep breath and swallowed her inane fears. “I’d be honored to have you lead the way to the ball.”

  “Wonderful, follow me.” He led the way across the marbled foyer to the hallway where four gold plated elevators waited, two on each side of the hallway. A circular button with an up arrow sat in between each door. The man pushed the button, and a moment later when the door of one opened, he stepped inside.

  “Are you coming?” His voice held a teasing note, and though she couldn’t see it, Gwen imagined his eyebrow was lifted. He probably wasn’t used to indecisive rich women.

  Gwen paused for just a moment, knowing she was blowing her cover, but unable to help it. Once she stepped into the small box, she would be at his mercy. Surely the ride would be short though, and a hotel this big had video cameras. “Um, yeah, sorry.” She joined him inside and tried not to show her apprehension as the doors slid closed. Her hands clenched her shawl tighter to keep from shaking.

  “Not a fan of elevators, huh?”

  Gwen looked down. “Oh, no, it’s not that. It’s….” but she couldn’t tell him her fear was of strangers. Men, in particular. Fearing strangers was a child’s fear, not a grown woman’s one and certainly not a fear of a famous designer. So, she said the first thing she could think of. “I don’t like small spaces.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Gwen preferred open areas where the option to run existed.

  “Hmm.” He stared at her as if trying to gauge if she was telling the truth or not. “Well, that is understandable.” A pause ensued as if he wanted to press the subject more, but finally he nodded and then leaned in towards her as if sharing a secret. “So, I understand this is a masquerade ball and sharing our identities is discouraged, but since I told you who I am, can I at least get your name?”

  Gwen didn’t want to state her actual name in case a guest list existed she wouldn’t be on, but it felt wrong telling him Carrie’s name as well. What if he tried to look her up later? Perhaps if she just gave a first name, it would be okay. “It’s Carrie, but that’s all I’m saying.” She hoped she sounded coy, but she feared the lie was evident in her voice.

  “Well, I’ll take what I can get.” He nodded and flashed another small smile as the doors opened. With a flourishing gesture, he held out his arm for her to go first, and Gwen stepped out of the elevator.

  Her heart sank as she saw a large man with a clipboard standing outside the door. He was obviously checking names off a list, which would be fine as long as he didn’t know the real Carrie Bliss. But a stack of cards sat on the table beside him. Invitations? Carrie had said nothing about bringing an invitation, and Gwen didn’t have one. Had she gotten all dressed up only to be turned away at the door?

  “Invitations?” the man asked as they approached.

  “I, um, don’t have one, but I should be on the list,” Gwen mumbled.

  “No invitation, no entry.” The man crossed his arms sending the sleeves of his suit bulging with the motion. He might look fancy, but he was obviously a bouncer who wouldn’t be afraid to throw a little muscle around if needed.

  “Well, I have no invitation either, but I would hate to inform my mother you denied her son, Drew Devonshire, entrance into his own event.” He lifted his mask, and the guard’s demeanor instantly changed.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Devonshire, sir, I didn’t recognize you. Of course, you don’t need an invitation.”

  Drew nodded. “Thank you, and neither does my friend. I’ll vouch for her.”

  Indecision crossed the guard’s face. He looked from Drew to Gwen and back again. “All right, sir, if you’re sure.”

  “I am.” Drew held out his hand to Gwen. “Carrie? Shall we?”

  Suddenly, Gwen grew nervous for a new reason. Clearly, the man before her was Drew Devonshire which meant he did own the hotel. He wasn’t likely to harm her, but what if he realized she wasn’t who she said she was? Would he throw her out? Call security? Call the police? She would just have to be careful what she said and did.

  She placed her hand in his. A tingling sensation raced up her arm at his touch, and she looked down at their hands. How long had it been since a man had touched her? The answer was ages. Gwen didn’t allow most men to touch her, at least not until she knew they were safe and not like the first foster father she’d had. And though she dated, she was cautious and picky in her choices. First dates rarely turned in to second ones.
r />   When she looked back up, Drew was staring at her. “Ready?” he asked.

  Gwen nodded, not trusting her voice. She was probably already sending out many signs she wasn’t the wealthy elite she was pretending to be, but she knew if she opened her mouth and her voice quivered, he would glean that information for sure. Carrie never seemed unsure of herself though whether that was due to her money or just Carrie’s personality Gwen wasn’t sure.

  Drew opened the door to the ballroom. Just like downstairs, the room was elegant and refined, and Gwen had to force herself not to stare as she took everything in.

  * * *

  Drew watched as Carrie’s eyes widened when they entered the room. He was used to such elaborate decor, but her expression revealed that she wasn’t. Though she fought to keep her face composed, he could tell the room awed her. And she’d been standing downstairs like a scared rabbit. He wondered if she would have stood in the lobby all night if he hadn’t approached her. Plus, she’d had no invitation though she’d claimed to be on the list. Could she be a new millionaire, maybe? Or a relative of someone? Either way, she intrigued him. Perhaps this evening wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “Would you care to dance?” he asked her as they stepped farther into the room. Couples already filled the dance floor while others lingered at the tables around the room.

  Her eyes dropped to the floor. “I’m not much of a dancer,” she said in a soft voice. What was this lack of self-confidence she exuded? It was not typical for people with money.

  “Lucky for you, I am.” He flashed a smile as he pulled her to the middle of the dance floor. “My mother made me take a year of ballroom dancing lessons. I might as well put them to good use.” Drew wrapped an arm around her waist and cinched her closer. Not only did she fit nicely in the crook of his arm, but the sweet smell of vanilla drifted up from her. He wasn’t sure if it came from her hair or her skin, but he enjoyed the scent.

  She followed his steps but felt stiff in his arms. Had she had no dance training? Not that everyone of wealth did, but it was standard practice among the elite. Perhaps she had only recently become wealthy. One of the rising stars his mother had invited?

  “Did you enjoy them?” she asked.

  “What? Oh, the lessons?” She nodded. “Not really, but when you are a Devonshire, there are rules you have to follow.”

  “There are always rules,” she said.

  “That is true, but our rules are stricter than most. Surely, you must have similar experiences.” He fixed his eyes on her as he waited for her answer.

  “Oh, um, sure, you know always wear the right outfit and makeup, things like that, but we didn’t have to dance.” She glanced up at him before her eyes shifted to the side. Clearly, she was hiding something, but what? And, more importantly, why?

  “What do you do?” he asked changing the subject and hoping to elicit a little information from her.

  Carrie cleared her throat and her eyes flicked around the room. Everywhere but on him. “I um run my own business.”

  Interesting. Drew had become adept at reading people. It helped when you had money to know if people were lying to you, and he could tell Carrie wasn’t telling the truth. She didn’t seem confident enough to be a con artist, and a good one would have had an excuse to get in, but something was off about her. “What sort of business?”

  She cleared her throat. “Design, but let’s not talk about business. Don’t you get enough of that during the day?”

  He chuckled. She was adept at changing the subject. “Indeed, I do.”

  “Great, so let’s talk about something else.”

  “All right, what did you have in mind?” This time he would give her the leash and let her run. He needed to know about her, but direct questions obviously would not get him any answers.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She glanced around and then finally back at him. A tiny sparkle flashed in her eyes. “What do you do for fun?”

  That question caught Drew off guard, and he blinked. What did he do for fun? When he was in college, he had enjoyed the weekly bonfires after football games, and though his mother thought it Neanderthal, he liked watching football games on Sundays, but that was about the extent of it. Work consumed most of his days now. Buying hotels, renovating hotels, hiring employees to work in the hotels. Hotels dominated his life. He enjoyed traveling and seeing new places, but even those trips were often for work and rarely for pleasure which took some of the joy away.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to have fun?” Her head tilted to the side as she looked up at him. For the first time, her voice held a teasing note as if she were finally relaxing around him.

  “I know how to have fun; I just don’t always have the time for it, I suppose. Though I used to.” He sighed as he thought back to his college days when life was simpler. People had known he was wealthy, and the friends he had made came from money as well, but they hadn’t talked about it. Money hadn’t ruled their life as it seemed to do now. “When I attended college, I was ‘free’ for a bit. I used to enjoy watching football games and attending the bonfires, actually.” He smiled as the memories of those evenings filled his head. The smell of the fire, the relaxed company, the food that neither his cook nor his mother would approve of. “I loved S’mores.”

  Her lips pulled into a smile. “Really? S’mores? I would have taken you for a more refined dessert eater.”

  He twirled her around as the music changed. “First off, S’mores are refined. It takes a lot of talent to get the marshmallow toasted just right so it’s gooey but not black.”

  She chuckled, and her smile grew. Her top teeth were straight but one tooth on the bottom turned in slightly. Drew found it endearing. “Granted,” she said with a nod. “What’s the second reason?”

  He pulled her closer and brought his lips to her ear. “I’m not as refined as people think I am.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really. I keep my limo stocked with Doritos and beef jerky.”

  At this she laughed out loud, garnering looks from the people closest. A pink flush claimed her face, and she snapped her mouth closed. Her eyes dropped to the floor and his heart ached as he watched her wilt. She obviously embarrassed easily.

  “Don’t worry. They’ve already forgotten you. So, what about you? What do you do for fun?”

  Her posture regained some of its strength, and the corners of her lips twitched. “I love to read and attend church. I especially love the days I get to work in the nursery.”

  Finally, something he was certain was true about Carrie. He could tell by the tone of her voice. Wistful and honest. He wasn’t much of a reader himself, and he was more of a holiday attender than a regular attender at church, but he could relate to the desire to be around children. As an only child, he had no siblings with children, but he liked kids. He wanted kids. He had thought he and Marjorie were headed that direction until she…. Drew shook his head slightly. Marjorie was gone.

  “Do you have kids of your own?” he asked Carrie. Not that he was against an instant family, but it changed the dating dynamic. Dating? He was getting ahead of himself. He barely knew this woman, but he could not deny he was attracted to her.

  She dropped her eyes and her voice fell flat. “No, I have no kids. Maybe someday.”

  He touched a finger under her chin and tilted her head up, so she was looking in his eyes. “I have no doubt that some man will sweep you off your feet some day and make that wish come true.” As the words came out of his mouth, he found himself wanting to be that guy. What was it about this girl? He rarely found himself enamored so quickly, at least not after Marjorie. She had burned him too badly. Since then, he hadn’t met a woman who attracted his interest and managed to hold it this long.

  Her teeth bit down on her bottom lip as a sigh raised and lowered her shoulders. “I hope so.”

  A look of resigned defeat danced across her face, and Drew wondered what was in her past to elicit such emotion? He wanted to fix it, t
o let her know how beautiful and interesting he found her, but the words in his head sounded hollow, trite. The conversation stalled then, but Drew counted it a victory as her eyes stayed on his. When the song changed, he took her hand and led her to the side of the dance floor. “Are you hungry?”

  A small gurgling sound answered his question as Carrie threw her hands over her stomach. “I guess I could eat a little.” A sheepish grin played across her face which Drew found endearing. Most of the women he associated with had starved themselves so long, their stomachs never rumbled because they didn’t remember the taste of food.

  “Come with me then. If I know my mother, she hired the best caterer in town and the food will be delicious though not entirely filling.”

  “Isn’t that always the case at expensive restaurants?” she asked with a laugh though it sounded forced. The charade was back on, the wall back up.

  He smiled back at her, but he filed the information away. Wealthy people rarely referred to restaurants as expensive because, while they might be, it was an expected expense and often a tax write off if done correctly.

  The back table was indeed laden with delicacies - canapes, truffles, and more. They grabbed a plate and loaded it with goodies before finding a place to sit. It pleased Drew to see Carrie’s plate overflowing with food. He was so tired of women who ate nothing but salad.

  “Does your mother always throw such elaborate parties?” Carrie asked as she lifted a canape to her mouth.

  Drew noticed her nails for the first time. Or perhaps it was the lack of her nails. Most of the women he’d dated either had fake nails or at the very least had them trimmed and painted. Carrie’s nails were devoid of polish and all different lengths. She hadn’t seen a manicurist in quite some time. His interest in her grew. Who was this woman?

  “Yes,” he said dragging his eyes from her hands back to her face. “She does nothing small. Even before my father died, she would throw elaborate parties. I think they might be even bigger now as if she’s trying to make up for him being gone or something.”