Twin Babies with the Billionaire for Christmas

4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Rachel

The cool Seattle morning air nips at my skin as I jog along the straight, unfamiliar path. It's early, and the sun is barely peeking over the edges of the apartment buildings all around me, but this is my favorite time of the day.

I smile at a balcony that has a cluster of little blow-up Christmas decorations on it. One of them is Rudolph from the Claymation Christmas movie. I try to remember the movie, but all I have are vague impressions of it in my mind.

Having never experienced a “normal” Christmas leaves a huge social hole, even as an adult.

People like to reminisce about these kinds of things all the time during the holidays, and I just have to stand there feeling awkward. I don’t ever know what’s worse, having to admit that I have no idea what they are talking about, or having to admit that I never got to have a normal Christmas as a kid.

I’ve tried both solutions, and both are equally awkward beyond belief. Now, I just settle for a vague smile of agreement and hope that no one asks me for any input.

The quiet solitude allows my mind to wander, to think about what I’m writing next, or simply enjoy the peace before the city fully wakes. Today, I’m the one who needs to wake up. I need to wake up from the unhealthy thoughts I’ve been having about Tristan.

To have an affair with a client, which is what he is or might soon be, is bad for business.

One wrong move could ruin the reputation I’ve built over the past seven years. I didn't work so hard, get my first job writing for the governor of Alaska as an undergrad student, and come all this way, just to complicate things for myself.

The thing is, the harder I try to shake the thought of him, the more he worms his way into my consciousness.

Why hasn’t he signed the contract ? This question has been playing on a loop in my mind for a week. The holiday season is going to kick into full swing, and if he doesn’t secure my time soon, I figure he will just wait until after New Year’s to get back to me.

It doesn’t make sense—he seemed so eager to get started at the party. But then again, he was also eager for other things.

My mouth twists into a frown as I think about the possibility that he never intended to hire me at all, that the offer to have me write his story was just meant to convince me to climb into bed with him.

“And it worked, didn’t it?” I say out loud to myself, bitterness in my words despite my huffing breaths as I jog.

Running should help distract me, but it’s not doing much this morning. I push myself a little harder, relishing the burn in my muscles.

It's been almost a week since I moved, and I'm finally starting to feel settled. Danny's adjusting well to his new care facility, and I've managed to establish a routine that balances my writing with his needs.

Danny is autistic. He is verbal and usually very gentle, but when he gets overwhelmed or frustrated, he can become combative.

I am quite intimate with his triggers though…sensory overload, frustration, communication challenges, or changes in routine. I love my brother, more than anything. But his care became too much for me on my own.

Now, the only thing left is getting a new writing job that will cover the mountain of bills.

I have money in savings, of course. All writers have to save up for dry spells. It’s just that I was hoping that I would have no trouble booking new, influential clients as soon as I moved to Seattle. This is a big city full of big egos, after all.

The fact that my only lead is Tristan worries me. The fact that he hasn’t already signed his contract worries me even more.

Lost in thought, I almost miss the "No Trespassing" sign as I round a bend in the trail. I slow my pace, debating whether to turn back or risk continuing. The path ahead looks inviting, winding through a beautiful park area. Surely a quick run through it wouldn't hurt anyone?

I make my decision quickly, and pick up my pace again, darting past the sign. The path narrows, becoming more secluded. It's beautiful here—the morning light filters perfectly through the trees. I make a mental note to bring my notebook next time. This would be a perfect spot for writing.

I'm so engrossed in my surroundings that I don't hear the approaching footsteps until it's too late. I round a corner and slam straight into a solid wall of muscle.

"Oof!" I stumble backward, arms windmilling.

A strong hand grabs my elbow, steadying me. "Whoa there! Are you okay?"

I look up, my face flushing as I recognize the man attached to the hand on my arm. "Tristan?"

His surprise quickly morphs into amusement. "Rachel. Fancy meeting you here."

I step back, suddenly very aware of how sweaty and disheveled I must look. Tristan, on the other hand, appears barely winded, his running clothes clinging to his muscular frame in a way that's entirely unfair.

"I, uh...hi," I stammer, tucking some hair behind my ear.

Tristan's eyebrow quirks up. "This is private property. Didn't you see the sign?"

Guilt washes over me. "Oh crap, sorry. I wasn't thinking. I just got caught up in the run and…"

He holds up a hand, cutting off my rambling apology. "Relax, Rachel. I’m kidding. No harm done."

"You're not going to call the cops on me?" I ask, sarcastically.

Tristan chuckles. "Considering it’s my property, I think I can let it slide this time."

My eyes widen. "You own this? All of this?" As if it should come as a surprise that a billionaire tech mogul like him could afford to own this.

He shrugs, looking very unembarrassed. "I own the building my apartment is in. The trails and paths are attached and are for the use of owners. I don't come out here often, honestly. It's just nice to have the privacy."

I nod, thinking of the modest apartment I'm renting nearby. The gap between our worlds suddenly feels very wide. I catch his eyes scanning me and falling on my breasts. I know that my nipples are peeking through my black top.

His lips instantly curve into a silly smile.

"Well, I should probably head back," I say, taking a step in the direction I came from.

"Wait," Tristan says, reaching out as if to stop me before thinking better of it. "You don't have to leave on my account. Like I said, no harm done. You’re welcome to use the trails whenever you'd like."

I blink in surprise. "Really? Are you sure?"

He nods. "I don't say things I'm not sure of. It would be a shame to let them go to waste. Besides," he adds with a grin, "it's nice to have company out here occasionally. Maybe we can run together from time to time while I talk about myself. You do need to hear me actually talk about myself, don’t you?”

Of course, I do. How else am I supposed to write his biography? But first I have to be hired.

"Thank you," I say, genuinely touched by the gesture. "That's very kind of you."

"Don't mention it," Tristan replies. He glances at his watch. "I should get going, early meeting. But, uh, if you’re not too busy, maybe I'll see you later today for lunch? We still have to sit down and talk about the contract, I presume?"

There's a firmly authoritative and sure note in his voice that makes my stomach do a little flip. "Yes, of course," I say, aiming for casual. "Have a good day, Tristan."

He flashes me one last smile before jogging off down the path. I watch him go, admiring the view before shaking myself out of it. This is dangerous territory , Rachel, I remind myself. Getting involved with someone like Tristan Black can only lead to complications.

Still, as I resume my run back to my apartment, I can't get rid of the effect of his hand on me.

Fuck! I mentally curse, only now remembering that I promised to go see Danny.

Tristan is already out of sight. I take out my phone and text his number. Cara gave it to me after she found out what happened between Tristan and me the morning after her party.

Sorry, raincheck? I almost forgot. I have to run an errand today. It’ll take the whole day, but I’ll be free tomorrow if that works.

His reply comes in almost immediately.

That works. Take your time.

And because I have to be at the facility early, I pick up my pace again.