A Billionaire for Christmas Read online

  A BILLIONAIRE FOR CHRISTMAS

  Maggie Marr

  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

  About this Series

  Also by Maggie Marr

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Sign up for the Maggie Marr newsletter to be first to know about new releases and awesome giveaways: http://www.maggiemarr.net/about/newsletter.

  The EligibleBillionaires Series

  This book is dedicated to Cami Brite.

  Thank you for being an amazing friend and for making me laugh,

  because there is little in life that is better than laughter.

  Chapter 1

  Justin’s arrogance shocked Anthony. Yes, as children all four Travati brothers had blindly followed their oldest brother’s lead, but now they were grown men. That Justin would shove some woman and her son at them, expecting them to accept Max as a true Travati heir without easily acquired proof, was nearly more than Anthony could tolerate.

  “Stop here,” Anthony said.

  His driver pulled to the curb.

  “Two hours.” Anthony opened the door and slid from the back of the car. The air smelled of dirt. An ugliness claimed the street of his childhood.

  Why did he come here? Because the choice as to whether to revisit his past each week had been taken from him. His best friend Vinnie was dead, Shelly was gone, and he’d made a promise to Vinnie. Shelly and Vinnie’s grandmother lived here. The elderly woman refused to move. The homes that had once housed working-class families, including Anthony’s own family, were nearly all in disrepair. Long ago this street had hosted stick ball games and block parties. Sprinklers watered each yard in the summer and mothers passed out red cherry-flavored popsicles that dripped down your chin on long hot July and August days.

  He walked over the chipped and broken sidewalk, through the chain link gate and up the steps. Mrs. Bello’s yard was well kept. No weeds. Flowers bloomed in the beds. The white house with green trim was spotless, thanks to the handymen Anthony sent each month. His hand clasped the rail on the front steps and it wiggled the tiniest bit. Not good. Mrs. Bello was still steady on her feet, but a fall down the stairs could break her hip. He’d send a handyman tomorrow. Anthony wouldn’t have Vinnie and Shelly’s grandmother falling down the stairs.

  The door opened before he rang the bell. The sweet scent of something baking and the rich earthy scent of coffee filled his nose.

  “Anthony!” A smile claimed Mrs. Bello’s face. “I didn’t expect you today. Come in. I just finished baking a tea cake.”

  The tiny house was warm. He listened for the sound of air-conditioning, but there was no whir. Was she cold or did she not want to spend the money? He turned. She wore a sweater in the middle of July. Money wasn’t the issue, then.

  “Sit, Anthony, sit.”

  He did as he was told. A few moments later she carried a tray with two china plates and cups out to him. He held himself back. His natural instinct was to jump up and take the tray from her, but she wouldn’t let him. He’d tried many times before today. She still didn’t know who paid her gardener and her maintenance man and the nice people who came four times a week to check on her and do the shopping and cleaning. His response to her questions was that those must be programs having to do with her pension. Little did she know, he was the program.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bello.” He took a sip of coffee and she settled into the chair beside him.

  This room whirled with as many childhood memories as the street. Memories that bled into his teenage years. He and Shelly and her older brother, Anthony’s best friend Vincent. Memories of first grand moments and first times swirled through his mind whenever he visited Mrs. Bello. Until the memories ended. He’d graduated business school, Vinnie had died, and Shelly had left.

  The wound still ached.

  “How is your week, Anthony?” Her smile was soft but her eyes held worry. Of course, she watched the news and knew the troubles the Travati brothers faced. Even now, the events of the world played silently across the muted flatscreen TV.

  “It’s been a long week, but everything will be okay.” He reached out and grasped her hand. The skin was faded and marked with age spots. She worried about him and his brothers, as she had worried about Vincent until his death. Mrs. Bello still worried about Shelly. He was the only Travati who came to the neighborhood on a weekly basis.

  “How was your eye appointment?” All her doctors’ visits were logged into his personal calendar. He not only asked Mrs. Bello, but he also followed up with the doctors.

  “My eyesight isn’t getting any better, but it isn’t getting any worse either.” She lifted her cup of coffee and took a long sip. She watched him over the rim of her coffee cup. She was stiff, as though there was something on her mind.

  He took a bite of her cake. “Oh my, this is good.”

  A giant smile spread over her face. She relaxed into her chair and clasped her hands in satisfaction. “I’ve wrapped up the rest for you to take home. Maybe share it with your brothers? I see Justin on the television”—her eyebrows tightened—“and he looks too thin.”

  Ha! Anthony wouldn’t be sharing anything with any of his brothers, especially Justin, any time soon. After that dinner with Max and Max’s mother, he couldn’t imagine Justin wanting to break bread with him for quite a while. The earful he’d received from Leo had been enough for Anthony to want to escape the Travati offices today.

  Sure, Leo and Devon also wanted Max to get a paternity test. But then they had the arrogance to throw out words like “loyalty” and “respect” and “family” when Anthony had done nothing except openly voice what the three of them had agreed needed to happen. He wanted proof of Max’s paternity. That wasn’t too much to ask, especially when dealing with a billion-dollar business.

  “Have you heard from your sister lately?” Mrs. Bello’s sister, her last living relative aside from her granddaughter Shelly, was a retired nun living in San Francisco.

  “Yesterday.” Another smile spread over Mrs. Bello’s face, causing her eyes to brighten with excitement. “Said to expect a surprise.”

  Anthony tugged at his tie. “Surprises are nice.”

  Mrs. Bello nodded. “Around Christmas. I know that seems forever from now, but Christmas will be here soon.”

  Anthony forced his face to remain neutral. Christmas was five months away, but maybe the days flew by for Mrs. Bello. “We’ll all be together again this year for Christmas, yes?” He sipped his coffee. The smell reminded him of his parents. His mother had drunk coffee every hour of the day.

  “I’d love that. With the tree and the mass! And the Teddy Bear Luncheon you do for the children.” She clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “I loved every moment of seeing them so happy.” She took a long deep breath. “If only I’d had my Shelly, too, the day would have been perfect.”

  Anthony swallowed. Yes, with the Shelly that he’d loved when he was a teenager and in college, the day would have been perfect, but not Shelly as she was now. Not the woman he’d seen in Texas and tried to convince to go to rehab. No. Anthony shook his head. He shut out thoughts of the current Shelly, as well as the promise he’d made to Vincent before he shipped out.

  Anthony had tried. Dammit, he’d tried. Five years ago he�
�d tracked Shelly down in some hellhole roadhouse in Texas, but couldn’t convince her to come home. Her eyes had held a scared wildness—her skin parchment thin, her formerly lush blonde hair limp and dirty. Ever since the last time he’d seen her, Anthony had expected a horrible call about Shelly’s demise.

  “Have you heard from Shelly?” Anthony asked. His voice remained steady even while his heart beat faster.

  “I did.” Again a small smile and a nod. “Not too long ago.”

  His eyebrow arched. “Is she still in Texas?”

  “San Francisco.”

  “Really? Where your sister is?”

  Mrs. Bello nodded. “Oh Anthony, I can’t keep a secret.” She leaned forward and pressed her hand to Anthony’s knee. “That’s the surprise! My Shelly is coming home this year for Christmas.”

  Anthony’s fingertips tingled and his eyebrows pulled tight. “That is a surprise.” He couldn’t tell Mrs. Bello that he doubted Shelly would return for the holidays. Shelly had told her grandmother countless times that she’d come home for a visit and then had failed to return. Nevertheless, hope and happiness filled Mrs. Bello’s face. Anthony nodded. “That will make for an extra-special Christmas.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Bello said. “Yes, it will.”

  Anthony lifted the china cup with tiny pink roses painted along the rim and took a slow sip of the now bitter drink. He would spend the next five months managing Mrs. Bello’s expectations, slowly, gently, getting her used to the idea that Shelly wouldn’t return for the holidays. He glanced at Mrs. Bello’s happy face, filled with hope and excitement because she believed that her beloved granddaughter Shelly was coming home.

  Shelly wouldn’t be here for Christmas. Anthony knew it. He would do all that he could to make up for Mrs. Bello’s inevitable disappointment. And he would make this upcoming Christmas extra-special for Mrs. Bello. He had five months to plan. Because if Shelly Bello actually came home to New York for Christmas that would indeed be a surprise for all of them.

  Five months later…

  Snow threatened. Cityscape spires jutted into the cloud-filled sky. Wind whipped down the street and blasted Anthony. He’d chosen to walk back from lunch, even though his car had been warm and at the ready. The blast of December wind wasn’t much different than the chill he still faced from his brothers at Travati Financial. He’d like to believe that the chill was caused by the potential criminal indictment that hovered over Devon’s future, or maybe the deal that Leo, his second oldest brother, had lost in Dubai earlier in the year, making Travati vulnerable to a takeover attempt.

  But no.

  No, the frigidity was due solely to his disagreement with Justin.

  Anthony pulled open the door to the TF building. He unbuttoned his coat as he walked across the lobby and stepped onto the elevator. Air wooshed along as the elevator jetted to the top.

  Ding.

  Travati Financial.

  Four Travati brothers all wanted to be king, but there could be only one. So far Justin, the eldest, believed the crown belonged to him. Anthony walked down a long hall and around a corner.

  “Tricia, anything I need to know?” He pulled off his jacket and handed it to his assistant, a blonde with sharp blue eyes. Like a hummingbird, she seemed to flit about, rarely stopping long in one spot.

  She leaned in toward Anthony. “Well, I heard that Justin, Max, and Mrs. Travati leave for Switzerland the day after Christmas.”

  No surprise there. The Travati family had a house in Switzerland, of course they would use it for the end-of-year holidays.

  “Leo and Devon are going too.”

  Anthony’s heart thudded to a stop.

  “All of them?”

  Tricia nodded. “Including Mrs. Travati’s sister and father.” She lifted a brow, her pointed expression filling in for her unsaid thoughts. You’ve been left out. Iced. The rest of your family doesn’t want you.

  “How lovely for them all.” Justin pulled at his shirt cuffs and then straightened his tie. “Please do book me the week before New Year’s at Mesquale.”

  “Already done, sir. Your usual suite.”

  “Excellent.” He glanced around at his brother’s assistants, who sat facing one another. Two of the executive assistants didn’t dare look him in the eye. They pretended to be busy on their computers or absorbed with papers on their desk. Of course they knew that his entire family was taking a Swiss holiday without him. Only Justin’s assistant, Liza, met Anthony’s gaze without looking away. She had no fear of him. Instead, her crooked mouth and tilted head conveyed an expression bordering on contempt. Liza had become close to Aubrey, Justin’s new wife, so she most likely had heard Justin and Aubrey’s version of the facts. She didn’t like him much, especially after what he’d forced Justin and Max and Aubrey, the new Mrs. Travati, to do.

  Too bad.

  “Tricia, please call Mrs. Bello and let her know I’ll be over later today.” His brothers could suck on that. They might as well be reminded that the “bad guy,” the mean brother, the one without a heart, was the only Travati brother who still managed to see Mrs. Bello every week.

  Liza’s gaze flicked back to her computer screen. Let her report that nugget of information to Justin. Who the hell cared? Anthony was tired of existing in a fishbowl.

  “And Tricia, speak to facilities. Tell them I’d like to move my office to the far end of the floor. We’ll switch over the holiday break. Come back to a clean slate, something new.”

  All four pairs of eyes telegraphed the assistants’ surprise to each other.

  “Uh, yes, sir,” Tricia said. “I’ll call them now.”

  “Thank you. And don’t forget to call Mrs. Bello as well.”

  *

  “Shelly, are you at the airport?”

  The hint of anxiety that tinged Nonna’s voice crumpled Shelly’s heart. How could it be otherwise? How many times had Shelly disappointed her Nonna? A thousand? A million? More than she could count, that was certain. But this time she really was getting on a plane. This time she was clean. This time she would be home for Christmas.

  “Just got here.” Shelly scanned the departures board. “SFO to JFK, on time.”

  “I can’t wait. I haven’t seen you in…”

  Shelly’s heart hurt while Nonna tried to do the math.

  “Oh my, Shelly, how long has it been?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe not since Vinnie’s funeral.”

  “Oh, yes, well, yes dear.”

  Why did she say that? Why had she brought up her brother’s death? Why couldn’t she just let that shit slide? If Nonna didn’t mention Vinnie, then she definitely didn’t have to. But she had. Damn. Always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Making everyone feel bad or uncomfortable. For fuck’s sake, so much of life didn’t change. “I’ll call you when I get in to JFK, okay? I’m taking the train, so don’t worry about me. But I’ll call you when I land.”

  “Oh, yes, please. I can’t wait to see you! I made a tea cake.”

  Always with the tea cake. For Nonna, tea cake fixed everything. They said their good-byes. Shelly pushed “off” on the phone and slid it into her purse. Aunt Patty had given her the phone, the purse, the clothes—she’d even helped her find a job in San Francisco. Without Aunt Patty… Shelly closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about what her life would be without Aunt Patty.

  She slung her purse higher on her shoulder, tugged her rolling carry-on bag behind her. The mass of humanity swarming the airport bumped against her as she walked toward security. The jagged edge of sobriety pierced her skin today. Booze would take the edge off. She’d always been a whiskey-type girl. Nothing frou-frou for her. Straight up and neat. But the booze, the whiskey, had never been the problem. She could take or leave drinking for days, weeks, months, maybe even, she hoped to find out, for years. Nope, the whiskey wasn’t the problem. It was what came after the whiskey that was problematic.

  Her body ached with want.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. Dam
n.

  One hundred and eighty-two days sober and still…still her mind wandered. Lingered on the thought, the idea, the possibility of relief, release, and relapse. The memories of all those holidays high. The holidays were hard. Nearly unbearable. Her sponsor, Alex, had been over and over and over how tough the first sober Christmas could be. Had even suggested she postpone her trip to visit Nonna until after the pressure of the holidays.

  How many more Christmases did Nonna have left, though? And how many holidays had Shelly already destroyed? Fuck that. She was tired of feeling sorry for herself and not doing all the things she needed to do, like going home and visiting Nonna. The woman had raised her and worried for her. Nonna had buried her son, Shelly’s dad, and then Shelly’s brother. The only one she had left was Shelly. Didn’t Shelly owe Nonna some good memories to make up for all the bad ones?

  She walked down the corridor of SFO toward the security line. Her eyes flicked from person to person. Which one was strung out? Who was boozed up? Rapist? Pedophile? Dealer? As she showed her ID and boarding pass to the agent at the head of the line, she glanced at each traveler, wondering what secrets they hid. Everyone had secrets. Dirty little bits that you didn’t want to remember. Why remember? Why not just get high? That high felt so good. The problem was that the high created even more dirty little secrets and tidbits not to remember, so you got high to forget again, and then the snake was eating its tail.

  Shelly slipped off her boots, put them in a bin with her coat, and set them, along with her carry-on and her purse, onto the conveyor belt for the X-ray machine. Her palms were wet. She had nothing to hide, and yet, her heart beat a cacophonous rhythm against her ribs. She walked through the metal detector. Not a beep. She nodded at the TSA agent and grabbed her boots and coat from the bin as it slid out through the fringe of vinyl straps at the end of the machine.

  “Miss, excuse me. Is this your bag?”