Christmas Ever After Page 4

  She shuddered, knowing she needed to think of a plan so that they could never be experience that situation again.

  “Where do you live?"

  Trinity turned her attention back to the Michael — another one of her problems. She wasn’t just in debt to the hospital; she was also now in debt to this gorgeous man for everything he had done for them. Again, she wondered when the obligation he felt to them would let up, and when his kindness would run out.

  “You don't need to drive us home,” she said, hastily. They didn’t need any more of his help; he had done enough. “We will find our way home.”

  She said the words with more confidence than she was feeling.

  Oh God, what was she going to do? There was no way she was going back to the streets with her little girl — next time she might not be so lucky. She might never wake up again, and the thought scared her. It wasn’t so much about her anymore, she simply couldn't bear it if anything happened to her little girl.

  She just wished she could bring her up in the way she deserved, in a stable home with love and laughter. Not cramped nights in a car while she spooked at every passing wind. She thought a moment about going to a shelter, but they were usually so filled up this close to Christmas.

  But it would be better than sleeping in the unsafe car.

  Maybe she could plead with Janaye for a place to stay, just for a little bit — even if it was on the couch, even if she had to clear out super early every morning.

  Trinity sighed, raking her hand through her tangled hair. Her head throbbed at all the impossibilities and vague plans.

  MICHAEL

  “W here are we going to stay, Mommy?"

  The question was innocent enough, and if Michael had not been notified that the car he asked his personal assistant to tow to the company's parking lot was filled to the brim with garbage bags he wouldn’t have paid much mind to it.

  He had tried unsuccessfully to pry the information out of her… she had sidestepped all his questions and changed the topic.

  Two days was enough time to realize that this woman was extremely proud and wouldn't buckle down.

  It was also enough to realize how much she cherished her daughter — with the way her eyes strayed to the girl every few seconds. It was clear that she had not completely gotten over the traumatic experience of the past two days and who could blame her. She put on a brave face for her daughter. If only she would stop pretending that everything was alright with her and let him help her, just a little bit.

  Even now she was trying to convince Miranda. "We'll just have to go back to cousin Janaye's place for a while," she was telling the girl.

  He looked on as the little girl nodded, though she seemed unconvinced. Trinity herself seemed unsure of her own words.

  Even after staying at her side for the whole day and then some, she was not going to ask me for help? He suddenly had an idea and he hoped he could convince her.

  “Miranda, can you come over here please?” The girl skipped to his side, her trusting eyes on him.

  Ignoring Trinity's questioning gaze, he handed Miranda his phone and earbuds. He had downloaded her favorite game on his phone when she requested. He turned up the volume on the game.

  "Why don't you go play with that for a while, while I talk to your mom." He gestured to the couch and she headed there obediently, completely entranced and singing off-key.

  "We need to talk," he started, and she glared at his high-handed manner. He placed his hands in his pockets and knew it probably wasn't the best start for his case, but he needed to know. "Are you going to truthfully answer my questions now?”

  "What questions?" She hunched into herself, and he hated it.

  "About your address," he prompted, waiting for an answer.

  She only glared at him, stubbornly not saying anything.

  "If not for yourself, then let it be for the kid. Please let me help you." Even he wasn’t above blackmailing.

  "I think you've helped us enough and we’ll forever be grateful.”

  She made it sound so offensive he could have smiled.

  "I don’t want your gratitude,” he returned. She tried to cut in, but he didn't let her get a word in. "Think of Miranda,” he added.

  It worked like a charm.

  “My cousin threw me out, but I'll soon get an apartment of my own... Well, I was but then this happened and now I’m missing work."

  She looked so defeated and he wanted to lift her head up, but he knew it would be unwelcomed. It was unlike him to care about making other people feel better.

  "This cousin is the same one you’re planning to return to?" he asked, jaw clenched in irritation. It took a certain type of character to throw out a woman and child in tow.

  "I have no other choice right now, and she won’t leave me hanging after she hears that I got attacked..." Her voice tapered off and she closed her mouth in a snap.

  "What about her father?" he asked.

  Her eyes snapped up to his, glare darkening, if that was possible. "He is not in the picture."

  A little growl was not going to throw him off, he wouldn’t be running a multi-billion-dollar company if he could be so easily warned off.

  "Are you sure about that?" he prompted and received another quick glare before she turned to look at her daughter who was enjoying herself.

  "He’s deceased,” she said in a monotone, before her voice picked up pure hatred. “But not before leaving me in a shit load of debt.”

  If she was hoping for some form of emotional response, he gave none. Very little fazed him these days. Still, the woman worried him for some reason.

  "I see," he said.

  Her nostrils flared after his response, but she said nothing.

  "What about your family? I mean your parents," Michael asked. He was curious to know more about the proud spirited woman.

  "My parents died when I was young and I'm an only child. I was raised in foster care and the one cousin I have isn't really a cousin, we were foster kids together so… Miranda is my only family." She turned away from him, but not before he caught a glint in her eyes.

  He shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to do next. An idea had been rolling around in his mind since he sat beside the frantic little girl waiting for her mother to wake up, and the day he spent with her while she was awake had only helped cement the idea.

  The silence stretched out, but it was not uncomfortable despite the tension between them.

  He mused that it was another thing between them. The silences were not uncomfortable pauses, nor were they power struggle or lulls in conversation. The quietness was oddly restful.

  Despite the flickers of awareness that seemed to charge the atmosphere, he knew a kind of curious peace and he didn't want to lose it. And that was crazy.

  "Why don’t you marry me?"

  Trinity went completely still and her mouth fell open.

  "What did you just say?" the word barely tumbled off her lips, clearly in shock.

  "I asked you to marry me. I know it seems crazy right now, but we can help each other out." He gestured at the bills in her lap, the room around them.

  Her eyes narrowed as she continued to look at him as if he had lost his damn mind.

  He knew his plan was outrageous.

  TRINITY

  T rinity was at a loss for words. Her mind couldn’t think of any appropriate responses for his proposal. She opened and closed her mouth many times. A marriage proposal from this man was totally unexpected.

  “You don’t have to respond yet but think of it. I’ve recently found myself in need of a wife and you’re in need of money. Why don’t we help each other out? I have money, lots of it in fact, and you’re a woman.”

  Trinity shifted uncomfortably on the bed, wondering if she was in the presence of a mad man. He was definitely crazy to want to marry a stranger. Everyone with a brain knew that rescuing a woman and sitting beside her hospital bed did not make a relationship.

  What part
of banged up, in debt, single mother appealed to him?

  He didn't look crazy, Trinity decided as she eyed him skeptically. Not that she knew how to identify it. He didn't start acting crazy until now.

  She couldn't stop herself from staring at him and was startled when he handed her another phone out of his pocket. He had… two?

  "Go ahead," he urged her. "Google me."

  “Why should I do that?”

  “Well I could see doubts written all over your face and I want to prove to you that I am who I say I am and that we can help each other.”

  "I don't know your full name," she said softly while duking her head in shame since she forgot his last name. How could she spend a day in the presence of the man and forget his last name — who really was the insane one here?

  "Michael Christian Harper the third," he offered, his voice sending naughty shivers down her spine. “That's my full name."

  Trinity rubbed at the goosebumps before typing the name into the search engine. Multiple search results arrived almost immediately with pictures. He looked way better in person, that was for sure. She scrolled through his bio page, and for the second time in ten minutes, she was stunned into silence. She saw his net worth and her mouth hung open again.

  He was talking, something about keeping his birthright, but she couldn't hear what he was saying over the rush of blood in her ears.

  This has to be a dream. She put the phone down and pinched herself. She needed to wake up. It wasn’t a dream. This was happening. This man who had rescued her, took care of her daughter while she was unconscious, was now proposing to her.

  This beautiful man who was looking intently at her with alluring grey eyes, and whose magnetism she had been consciously denying all this while, wanted to marry her.

  This man who had been patient with her little girl, who had proposed to her in the most bizarre twist of fate ever... was a billionaire.

  He was the sole heir to a multibillion-dollar empire, which was what the news favored, and favor him they did — the articles featured him continuously in the spotlight and in the company of various influential people. And yet he sat across from her wanting a marriage — what would he gain from that union? He said he needed a wife, but looking at him, she knew that wouldn’t be too hard of a task for him to accomplish. The man was gorgeous.

  "Why?"

  "Why what?" he chorused in confusion.

  "Why are you asking me to marry you? It's not like it would be difficult for you to get some other woman. You’re rich, you’re great with kids, and you’re totally gorgeous with those piercing…" She trailed off noticing that he was amused and realizing she had said too much.

  "You think I’m gorgeous?" he asked, one eyebrow arched teasingly.

  Trinity flushed and bit her lips. Every time she was snared into that silvery gray gaze, her pulse quickened. Every time she caught his interaction with Miranda, her heart swooned.

  He was virile and powerful. From the teasing looks he was leveling her way right now, he knew it.

  "I can see now why another woman won’t have you. It’s the ego."

  "Must you always fight?" the husky question gathered all her jittery nerves and shredded them in one quick move.

  She tried to turn her face away from the danger of it, but he looked at her too coolly, his face a steely challenge... daring her to deny it, to turn away.

  She found herself trapped in his gaze, slowly losing her senses and air.

  Breathe!

  He was suddenly so close, his musky scent seemed to surround her. When she raised her eye, she noticed he was right beside her bed with his hand inches from her face.

  She whimpered, a small tortured sound and his hand stalled in midair before retreating, and the charged atmosphere effectively broken.

  "My grandfather has threatened to sell the business if I don’t get married. I am not one to normally give into ultimatums, but I really want to get the old man off my back. I’ve contributed too much of my time and life into the business only to have it sold out from under me," he explained easily, too easily for her, of course there had to be more.

  "You want to get married so that you can keep the business?" she asked, skeptical.

  "Yes, basically. You’ll benefit from this marriage as well. I have unlimited insurance and enough money to burn," he replied.

  "Marrying a stranger seems like quite a brazen move. Don’t you have a girlfriend or someone within your circle who can help you?"

  He arched his eyebrows and she ducked away from the look “The women in my circle are all the same; pretentious. Plus, they would require more than I’m able to give. I am looking for a business arrangement where each party gets what they want. You need money and I need a wife. We have no other expectations of each other," he murmured. He was right about her needing money.

  "But don’t you think this is too quick? We hardly know each other."

  Why do I suddenly sound bitter? She wondered if maybe it had something to do with the fact that this perfect man insisted on taunting her with visions of a future where she had enough money to care for her basic needs.

  "We know what we should know about each other. The important stuff. We’d be starting this marriage with no false expectations," he replied.

  "We’re not compatible; the women in your circle are more suited for..." She leveled her hand towards him. “You.”

  He looked at her for the longest time until she started to fidget, regretting whatever word she had said to make him stare.

  "So, you're saying I deserve a vapid airhead whose conversation comprises of price tags and expensive locations, just as long as she knows how to properly use a shrimp fork?"

  She gaped — that was the longest sentence he ever directed at her.

  "No, that's not what I meant."

  "Enlighten me," he growled, his voice a low timbre that played over her senses and travelled down her body to tighten her core.

  "I am sorry." The words were barely a whisper, but he heard it. "I thought you'll be more suited to a person of your class, someone who can...."

  "Use a shrimp fork,” he cut in as if mocking her.

  "Those were your words not mine; I don’t even know how to use a shrimp fork!”

  He stared at her, his lips blossoming into a smile. Trinity had to bite her lips to hold in the gasp. This man had too much over her, too much control and he knew it. She was not about to give him more.

  No matter how enticing he was, no matter how alluring his eyes were, no matter how blinding his smile, that sensuous slide of lips edged by pearly whites drove the twist in her core tighter, she wouldn't — couldn't — allow to show emotion.

  "I don’t care about that."

  "What?"

  "I have not asked you to use a shrimp fork," he reiterated.

  Trinity huffed in disgust at her own body's reaction to his every action. "Yet."

  He shifted forward in his chair. "Think about it, for her sake. Imagine all your debt cleared off and more than enough money in your bank account to pursue your passions. It will only be for about a year, and after that, we go our separate ways. I’ll even establish a trust fund for Miranda."

  Her eyes strayed to her daughter who was still fiddling with the piece of technology in her hand before turning to the man who Trinity perceived as the embodiment of temptation.

  He was promising her heaven — everything she ever wanted, but she just couldn’t understand what the catch was. Could I really marry another man who promised me the world? He knew the right buttons to push, too, he knew she would do anything for her daughter, and go to any length to prevent the recurrence of the past.

  "If I agree to this, I want everything written up in a contract. I’ll need a bit of time to think this over.”

  "Take your time." Even she could catch the faint mocking in his voice.

  "I also have to talk with my daughter about it since this affects her life as well." "And as a gesture of faith, I’ll pay this bill and then take yo
u ladies out to breakfast."

  “That’s not necessary.”

  "Well I insist," he countered as he quickly scooped up the papers from the table and headed out of the room while ignoring her demand to return her papers.

  

  Trinity glanced around the table, more than a little miffed. It was an appetizing breakfast, and everything was served in beautiful, delicate China that she had eyed initially with trepidation.

  When she mentioned that she feared Miranda could break one of them, Michael simply told her that accidents happened and that it was just a plate.

  The meal was delicious, which included pancakes and golden syrup that melted into her mouth. Miranda was smiling, but it only reminded Trinity of a problem.

  Not the smile, she would do anything to keep the smile on her face, even marry this man, though that was hardly a hardship.

  Miranda seemed comfortable enough with him. Since they sat down for breakfast, she had focused squarely on the man and told him all about her friends from school.

  For a mother who had never had to share her daughter, she couldn't stop the sudden wave of jealousy. It was them against the world, and now her daughter was smitten with someone else. In retrospect, so was she, and she blamed that on him rescuing her.

  Trinity raised her hand to clean Miranda’s mouth, but Michael beat her to it in a quick, effortless move that surprised her. To her surprise, she noticed that Miranda was not complaining.

  He turned to Trinity, asking, "Did you enjoy your food?"

  "I did. The pancakes were nice and fluffy," she replied before returning her attention to her daughter who was drinking her orange juice.

  "Miranda, slow down. Small sips, remember?" she said. The little girl rolled her eyes but dutifully dropped the glass with both hands on the table.

  "Miranda, honey," she started, unsure of how to explain the new turn of events.

  "Mommy?"

  "What do you think of us living with Michael for a while?" she blurted, the easiest way she could.