Twin Babies with the Billionaire for Christmas

3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Tristan

The sound of my best friend's car pulling up snags my attention.

We are supposed to already be seated, having lunch, and planning the next big meeting for the deal we’ve been working on. But Jay has an awful habit of being late for lunch. In the past thirty years that I've known him, I’m still unable to figure out why.

As I sit in the lobby I look around at the typical Christmas decorations scattered around the restaurant. I want so much to feel the holiday spirit like everyone else seems to be doing, but I just can’t.

If it wasn’t for my live-in housekeeper of nearly thirty-five years, I doubt I’d celebrate the holidays at all. But Nancy keeps things very festive at my house. She has since I was just a boy. It’s just one of the many reasons I love her and will never let her go.

She is what makes my house a home.

But besides Nancy’s holiday cheer, my family didn’t make a big fuss about Christmas. However, I certainly hadn’t lacked anything I needed throughout the rest of the year.

I had spent a few fun Christmases with family friends, and I had once gone on a Christmas cruise with an ex, but I had long ago decided that the holiday spirit was something that you learned about as a kid.

Nancy did her best with me, baking lots of cookies and whatnot. But with Grinchy parents, it was still hard to connect with the Christmas and New Year’s cheer all around you.

I sigh and scroll through my social media while I wait for Jay.

Rachel has stubbornly refused to leave my mind. It’s unhealthy, but it’s like she’s wormed her way into my consciousness. And it’s not because of the sex, even though that was great.

She just has this thing about her I can’t seem to shake— her beautiful green eyes, her welcoming smile, her voice.

Above all, however, she had surprised me with her willingness to push the boundaries, with her wild abandon.

She sent over her contract, but I have just been staring at it all week, not sure whether I should have her write my story or not.

There is something a little terrifying about exposing my heart and soul, my truth, to someone who makes me feel dizzy with lust.

I abandon my social media doom-scrolling and open my email to thumb through the pages of the document once again as I wait. She’s probably wondering why on earth I haven’t already signed it and sent it back.

“What are you thinking about?” Jay puts a hand on my shoulder and makes me jump.

“You’re lateness,” I say. He chuckles and pats me on the back.

“You’re not expecting an apology, are you?” We make our way to my usual table in the restaurant.

One of the things I love about Oscar’s, my favorite restaurant, is the privacy it gives me. I’m heartily tired of being approached to give business advice, autographs, and pictures. I am a private person, and my line of work exposes me to a lot of social pressure I’d rather avoid.

Jay is one of the few people on earth who I enjoy spending time with. I know that I’m prickly, grumpy, and hard to approach, but he doesn’t care. His open, sunny, charming personality is a great benefit to my business…and to me.

We settle into our table and start to look at the menu. I ponder if I should have my usual or attempt to be creative for once.

When I’ve given up on the menu I look over at the bar. Do I want a drink? I catch sight of a woman at the bar, and my heart leaps a little in my chest.

“Rachel?” I mumble, but I quickly collect myself when the woman turns around. Of course, it’s not her. Rachel is slightly shorter, has more curves, and her hair is a dirtier blonde.

Jay snaps his fingers in my face. “Don’t go spacing out on me. You’re the one who called me to this lunch so we could work on the proposal we need to present.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, glancing again at the woman I mistook for Rachel and shaking my head a little. “I thought I saw Rachel at the bar.”

Jay gives me a curious look. "Who's Rachel?"

"Oh, no one," I say too quickly. "Just someone I met at Cara's party last week."

"Uh-huh," Jay says, clearly not buying it. "Doesn’t sound like no one.”

I sigh, knowing there's no point in trying to hide anything from Jay. He knows me too well. "Fine.” I sigh. “She’s a biographer. I think I might hire her to write my story.”

"And?" Jay prompts, leaning forward with a grin.

"And nothing," I insist, though the memory of our night together flashes through my mind. "Just trying to decide if I want to have someone living in my house for at least a few weeks, following me around to work and family functions and so forth. You know I don’t like company.”

Jay leans back, studying me. "You know, for a genius, you're a terrible liar, Tristan. I haven't seen you this tripped up over a woman in, well, I think it’s safe to say ever."

I scowl at him, but I can't deny the truth in his words. Rachel Smith has gotten under my skin in a way no one else has in a very long time. Our night together was intense, unlike anything I've experienced.

But it was supposed to be just that—one night. So why can't I stop thinking about her?

"Look," he says, his tone softening. "I know you've got your reasons for keeping people at arm's length. But maybe it's time to take a chance. If this Rachel has made such a big impression on you, why not reach out?"

I shake my head. "It's not that simple. She's young, Jay. Brilliant and beautiful, yes, but she's got her whole life ahead of her. The last thing she needs is to get tangled up with someone like me."

"Someone like you?" Jay repeats, raising an eyebrow. "You mean successful, driven, and despite your best efforts to hide it, actually a decent human being?"

I snort. "You're biased."

"I'm honest," Jay counters. "Tristan, you deserve happiness too. And if this woman might be a source of that happiness, don't you owe it to yourself to at least explore the possibility?"

His words hit home, and I find myself considering the idea. I just don’t know how to approach time spent with her. Getting entangled with her on top of working with her on the book will complicate things.

"I'll think about it," I say, more to get Jay off my back than anything else. "Now, can we please focus on the actual reason we're here?"

Jay grins, knowing he's made his point. "All right, all right."

We spend the next hour hashing out details for the upcoming event. It's a combination of networking and entertainment that we host for potential investors and business partners: high-stakes poker, good scotch, and the chance to rub elbows with Seattle's business elite.

It's not my favorite part of the job, but it's necessary. We're wrapping up when my phone buzzes with a text from Cara.

Guess who just officially moved into the neighborhood…

Attached is a picture of Rachel, smiling and holding up a set of keys in front of an apartment building I recognize. It's about a twenty-minute walk from my place.

"Everything okay?" Jay asks, noticing my sudden distraction.

I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral. "Yeah, just a text from Cara."

"About Rachel?" Jay guesses, his grin widening at my glare. "I knew it! So, what are you going to do about it?"

“I don’t know. It’s the holidays. Maybe she has plans and doesn’t want to start working on the book right now.” I stare at the picture of Rachel, excited, but also apprehensive.

“Did she say she didn’t want to work over Christmas?”

"I don't know," I admit. “I didn’t ask.”

Jay stands up, clapping me on the shoulder. "You should welcome her to the neighborhood like a good neighbor. And maybe, just maybe, see where things go from there. Make it last at least a month if you can. I know I'll be proud of you, and Janet won't taunt you for a whole month."

As much as I hate to admit it, Jay's right. Janet is his wife, and I love her, but she can also be a pain in the ass—mine. She’s constantly harping on me to find the right girl and settle down.

I send a reply to Cara's text, asking for Rachel's apartment number so I can surprise her.

"Thanks for lunch," Jay says as we head out. "And Tristan? Don't overthink this. Be yourself. Besides, you're not too old for her. You still look the same as you did when we first met.”

I shake my head. "You’re full of shit,” I tell him.

Jay laughs. "Fair point. Good luck, boss. See you at work."

I watch him walk away toward the parking garage and sigh. This is crazy. I'm Tristan Black, tech mogul and business tycoon. I don't do silly impulsive things. I don't chase after women. And yet I still find myself figuring out how best to visit Rachel at her new place.

I get in my car, heading toward a nearby bakery. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right.

Cara texts me that Rachel loves chocolate cake. It's a small detail, but it’s a good enough suggestion to help me formulate a plan.

***

The next morning I'm standing outside Rachel's new apartment building, a box of gourmet chocolate cake in hand. A white-haired occupant passes me with a naughty smile on her beautifully wrinkled face, and I feel like a teenager.

This is ridiculous. I'm a grown man, for God's sake. I shouldn't have to be doing this. Yet I take a deep breath and press the buzzer for her apartment.

"Hello?" Her voice comes through the speaker, and just the sound of it sends a jolt through me.

"Rachel? It's Tristan."

There's a pause, and for a moment, I'm sure she's going to tell me to go away. It’s been over a week and I haven’t committed to having her write my story or reached out at all.

Much to my surprise, she buzzes me up. "Come on up."

I make my way up to her floor. As I approach her door, I hear muffled voices inside. She’s not alone. The thought hadn't even occurred to me that someone else might be visiting her.

What if she has a boyfriend? What if the night at the party was just a fling for her, too? I never asked.

The door opens, and there she is. Rachel looks even more beautiful than I remember, dressed casually in jeans and a soft sweater. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and there's a smudge of what looks like ink on her cheek.

Her eyes are so green in the bright morning light. She's absolutely breathtaking.

"Tristan," she says with a sweet little smile. How can she look so pulled together when my heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest?

I wonder if our night together just didn’t mean that much to her, or maybe she’s just better at putting on a cool facade than I am.

"What are you doing here?" she asks when I continue to just stand there, staring at her.

I hold up the cake box, feeling suddenly foolish. "I heard you moved to the neighborhood. Thought I'd welcome you properly."

A small smile tugs at her lips. "With cake?"

"Chocolate," I clarify. "Cara mentioned it was your favorite."

I can read the surprise and pleasure in her eyes. She chuckles. She's about to respond when a crash from inside the apartment draws her attention. “Is everything okay?” Which is followed by a masculine voice calling out, "Yes, just a plate."

I tense, my earlier assumption resurging. But Cara would not have sent me that picture if Rachel wasn't available. Her reaction surprises me. She looks more anxious than guilty, glancing back into the apartment with worry.

She turns to me, and says in a lower voice, "I'm sorry, this isn't a great time. And no, it's not what you think."

She trails off, biting her lip. I can see the conflict in her eyes, and I realize I've put her in an awkward position by showing up unannounced. What an idiot Jay was for convincing me do this on a whim like some idiot high schooler.

"Of course," I say quickly, trying to mask my embarrassment. "I should have called first. I'm sorry to intrude."

Rachel shakes her head. "No, it's...it's really sweet of you to stop by. I just..."

Another crash from inside, followed by what sounds like breaking glass. Rachel winces.

"I should go," I say, taking her hands and placing the cake in them. "Here, take the cake. Consider it a housewarming gift."

I hand her the box, our fingers brushing in the process. Even that small contact sends a spark through me.

"Thank you," Rachel says softly. "Really, Tristan. This was unexpected but nice."

I nod, taking a step back and taking in the apartment. Something feels off, but I try not to assume too much. "Maybe we could grab coffee when things are less hectic for you? We can talk about my biography and the way forward." I smile to make her less conscious.

She hesitates for a moment, then nods. "I'd like that. I'll...I'll give you a call?"

"Sounds good," I say, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice. "Take care, Rachel. And if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me." I try not to look into the apartment.

I turn to leave and I hear her softly close the door behind me.