Twin Babies with the Billionaire for Christmas

8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Rachel

“Need a hand?” Tristan glances at me as I sit in the front seat of his sports car, my hand pressed to my forehead.

With the contract signed and a brief tour of his office wrapped up, we head out.

Cara had sent the address of the pub-style restaurant she wanted to meet up at, her brother was going to be joining too. Danny was also being brought over by a car from his home.

“Maybe,” I say, not sure why I suddenly feel a little faint. Maybe I’ve been working out too hard the past two weeks. Or maybe it’s Tristan.

In some ways, I don't get why he is so hard for me to resist. He’s arrogant and too confident at times, but he’s also charming, sexy as hell, and fun to be around.

Don’t mess up your whole career with this one single writing contract , Rachel Smith , I chide myself. I close my eyes and try to steady myself.

The world swoops a little around me again and I try to swallow down the bile rising in my throat.

I absolutely do not have time to be getting sick right now. Maybe I caught something at that dumb party of Cara’s but it’s been long enough I would have thought I’d have been sick sooner.

Should I tell Cara I can’t make it and go home? I struggle with myself as I try and control the way that my body is feeling.

Tristan gets out of the car and comes around to open my door and help me out. As I rise, I feel another swoop of vertigo and stumble into him for a moment. I see his eyes go wide with awareness, their depths very golden.

We stand for a moment, breathing fast, our lips close enough to give in and steal a kiss. But then I feel nauseous again, and I close my eyes.

“Let me help you,” he tells me, leading me around the car to the side of the restaurant. “Do you need to go home?”

I shake my head, leaning against the chilly concrete wall behind me, willing the moment of unease to pass. What is wrong with me?

“I want to see Isaac, and I promised Danny,” I say to him, pushing away from the wall and straightening my shoulders.

“Danny?” he asks with some confusion.

I sigh, biting my lip. I’m not sure why I’m protecting my brother from everyone like this. After all, he loves people, and I’m not embarrassed about having a special needs sibling.

It’s just, I don’t want anyone to hurt him again. All of that stuff with my ex and the fake nurse…it had been really tough on him. I don’t want him to go through that again.

“My brother.”

“Oh, you never talk about him,” he says, offering me his arm. I take it, grateful for the support.

“He’s here in Seattle, too. He has special needs. There were…issues with his care staff in Alaska, and I’m just…protective of him, is all. We are basically alone in the world at this point. He’s my only real family.”

“I get that,” Tristan says to me.

“Will you walk me around the block so I can get some air?” I ask.

“Of course, Rachel.”

We walk in silence while rain lightly mists our exposed skin. I see the sign for the pub approaching around the block again. I slow down a little, suddenly unsure if I want Tristan to meet my brother.

How will I explain him to Danny? What will I say when Danny doesn’t get to see him after the project is over?

“Do you want me to go back home?” he asks, realizing the potential reason for my hesitation.

I sigh, tapping my foot against the wet pavement as I think things over. I stare into his beautiful golden eyes and try to decide what to do. This whole contract is already proving to be entirely irregular.

“It’s just,” I say, then hesitate. I straighten up and shake my head. “No, you can come with me.”

He pulls me closer to him and rubs a hand soothingly up and down my back.

“I’m happy to do whatever is easiest for you,” he tells me.

His eyes are trained on my lips, and I suddenly realize that he’s leaning in for a kiss.

“Hey,” I tell him, raising my finger and placing it over his lips. “Don’t make me regret this, Tristan. It’s hard enough as it is.”

I want things to remain as they are…I think. Either way, Tristan is already proving to be slightly more than I can handle. He encroaches with such authority that it’s hard to resist him.

He swiftly snags my hand and kisses the back of it. I open my mouth to protest, but then my heart melts and I just smile a little at him.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you in out of the cold.”

***

“Excuse me for a moment,” I say an hour later, rising from the booth and walking quickly to the bathroom. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I hurry away, but I’m too distracted by the bile rising in my throat to care at the moment.

I barely make it to one of the bathroom stalls before I throw up. I’m getting sick , I think worriedly as I spit out the lingering bad taste in my mouth and lean against the wall of the stall.

I try to distract myself from the swooping, roiling nausea within me by training my mind on how well Danny and Tristan have been getting along. It has been nice to see Isaac as well. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years and I forgot how funny he was.

I think about the one Christmas that Danny and I were able to spend with Cara and Isaac. Their parents had decided to go to the Bahamas for Christmas because they were so tired of the wet, rainy Seattle weather. Cara and Isaac had invited Danny and I to come along.

It had been the most fun I could remember having in years. We had gotten sunburned, gone on a catamaran excursion, and snuck some adult drinks out of one of the parties at the resort. Danny and I had thrown up for hours afterward and Danny had refused to drink ever again.

I remembered as well that Cara had met a gorgeous Italian guy there and had snuck away with him one night. She had come back to our little bungalow and whispered all about her first time and how anticlimactic it had actually been.

I could still remember the little Christmas gifts Danny and I had been given on Christmas day. Danny had gotten a leather-bound sketchpad, and I had been given a pretty bracelet with a little star on it.

Cara had pressed her lips to my cheek and whispered that she just knew I was going to be a star someday.

I have worn the bracelet every day since. I stared at it wistfully as I leaned against the bathroom wall. Christmas wasn’t my favorite time of year, but at least I had this one, shiny memory to cling to.

Just as I start to think that I’m going to be okay to go back to the table, I’m throwing up again. I clutch my long hair in one sweaty palm, willing my body to stop rebelling.

“Rachel?”

The voice is Cara’s and I breathe in through my nose for a moment, then manage to reply.

“Sorry,” I manage to croak out. “Just not feeling very good.”

“Can I help?” Cara asks, her voice worried.

I sigh, not sure what to say.

“I don’t know,” I murmur, my head feeling fuzzy.

“Is she all right?”

I recognize Tristan’s voice and I want to expire from shame.

“She’s not feeling well,” Cara says to him. I can tell she’s leaning out the bathroom door into the hallway.

“I can take her to my place and take care of her,” Tristan offers. “I can call a private IV care provider to get her hydrated and feeling good again.”

“Oh, that sounds like a great idea,” Cara agrees. I hear the door squeak as she leans back in my direction. “Did you hear all of that?” she calls to me.

“Yeah,” I reply. “Look, you can just take me to my place. I just need to get some sleep, I think.”

“Let me take care of you, okay?” Tristan calls back. “Please?”

I suddenly think of when I made him beg for me to put my mouth on his cock, and I flush despite how sick I feel.

Maybe it’s the memory of what his pleading did to me that night, or maybe I’m just so tired of always doing everything alone. Either way, I realize that I’m going to give in.

“Okay,” I say in a small voice. I flush the toilet and step out of the stall. I nearly giggle when I see Cara holding the door to the women’s restroom open and Tristan peeking through the gap in the door at me.

“I’ll be out in a second,” I reassure him, making a shooing motion at him.

He winks at me and backs away, and Cara shuts the bathroom door. She looks at me worriedly as I wash my hands. I stare at my pale reflection and make a face. I look awful.

“You need to be sure that you’re not pushing too hard,” Cara chides me. “You don’t want to be sick over Christmas.”

I listen to the Christmas carols playing over the speakers in the bathroom. I want so much to feel something like the holiday spirit—for once in my life—but all I feel right now is…defeated.

Being sick over Christmas seems appropriate, frankly.

“It’s just been a lot lately,” I admit to my friend. I give her a wan smile. “But don’t worry. Things are settling down.”

“I’m glad Tristan connected with you,” Cara says with a secretive little smile. “I knew you guys would be perfect for one another.”

I grimace. “Cara, so help me, you can stop trying to play matchmaker now, or I will…”

She raises her hands in surrender and shakes her head but there’s a wicked glint in her gaze that tells me that that is exactly what she’s doing.

“Hey, it’s good for both of you. You get to write a good book and make some sweet cash, he gets some publicity out of the deal, and then maybe…if you’re both up for it…you might also get to enjoy some side benefits if you know what I mean.” She winks.

I roll my eyes and put my hands on my hips. “You are incorrigible.”

She nods. “You’re not wrong. So tell me…is Tristan incredible in bed? Older men always are, you know.”

I blush so fiercely that I realize there is nothing I can say to deny that we’ve had sex.

Cara grins at me and claps her hands. “That’s all the answer I needed.” She leans closer and holds her hands about six inches apart, one brow lifted inquiringly.

“Oh, God no,” I say right away with a shake of my head. I hold my hands much farther apart and her eyes go wide.

“Holy shit. Did he almost kill you?”

I giggle, still feeling flushed. “In the nicest way possible.” I look down for a moment, then look at her sidelong. “It was nice. I felt…empowered…I….made him beg.”

She crows with laughter. “Girl, I wish you wrote erotica instead of biographies. I’d love to hear your retelling of your hookup.”

I press my cold hands to my cheeks. “I don’t think I was probably all that good at what I was doing,” I admit with a nervous chuckle. “I was trying to channel the dirty book I had just finished the day before.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Cara says to me. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Like what?” I ask.

She narrows her eyes and leans in again. “Like he wants to throw you on the table and fuck you right here in the restaurant.”

I gasp a little, taken aback. “What? No.” I say a bit stupidly.

Cara shakes her head. “You’re blind if you can’t see it,” she assures me. “Come on. Let’s let Prince Charming take you home so that you can get to feeling better.” She takes my hand and starts to pull me toward the bathroom door.

“As soon as you’re better,” she says over her shoulder, “I expect you to get right back to enjoying that fine-ass specimen you’re writing about.”

“We said we needed to start being professional,” I say weakly.

She snorts. “Suuuure,” she says. “Like that’s going to happen.

I don’t argue with her because I know she is probably right.

We make it back to the table and I say my goodbyes and give my brother a hug. Cara and Isaac promise to make sure he gets back to his care home safely.

Feeling exhausted, I take Tristan’s arm and allow myself to be led to his car. We hurry through the now ice-cold rain that is falling from the sky, his hand clutching mine so I don’t slip and fall in my heels.

It’s nice, being together like this, and it’s also terrifying.