Read the first chapter of Christmas with a Billionaire, my story in the Holiday Hearts anthology that’s available from December 2 to December 12. It’s free to download, and I’ll post the link here and send it out in my newsletter.
I’m still working on finishing up Playing with a Bad Boy, and it will release early next year. In the meantime, you can catch up with Grace and Camden in Flirting with a Quarterback to kick off my latest series. Already read it? You can check out all my other books right here.
And now, get ready to meet Ava and Ben!
First Chapter of Christmas with a Billionaire
Ava
It’s my job to baby-sit a billionaire for the next month. And my promotion rides on how successfully I do it.
From all accounts, he’s not just a billionaire, but also grumpy, eccentric and reclusive. He rarely does interviews, and the few I found online didn’t have any photos or personal information.
Benjamin Devereux.
I have no idea why he’s coming to Whitefish, Montana, and I also don’t care. I just need him to leave a happy man so I can officially introduce myself as the Guest Experience Manager of The Pines Resort and Spa.
“Ava?” Crystal, my manager, dashes over to the concierge desk where I’m stationed with panic all over her face. “Is everything set for Mr. Devereux’s arrival this evening? Miguel just told me that some items on his list were out of stock—”
“Don’t worry, it’s all covered. I’ve been ordering items online for weeks, and I also drove to Kalispell last night to find the rest of the things he wants.”
Crystal lets out a visible sigh of relief, but doesn’t thank me. “The suite should be ready now if you want to set up. And remember, he doesn’t want anyone in the suite when he arrives. Make sure it looks perfect and is fully stocked and then scram.”
“I’ll be like a ghost.”
Our luxury resort hosts many VIP guests, but none quite like Mr. Devereux. All staff signed NDAs, and we’re now legally required to be discrete. I’m not sure why a billionaire staying at a resort is such a big deal, but it’s not my job to know.
I just need to make sure he has the best stay of his life. It would be even better if he told all his rich friends about us, too.
After loading the items I need onto a trolley, I head to the private elevator and use my passkey to access the top floor.
Mr. Devereux is staying alone, and the suite could comfortably sleep a football team. But the ultra-rich are an unusual bunch.
“Hey, Marion,” I say.
My favorite person on the housekeeping team is just leaving the suite when I arrive, and she shoots me a tired smile. In addition to working here, she has two other jobs.
It’s tough to afford anything, even in our small town. That’s why a promotion—and raise—would make such a difference for me.
“If you see anything out of place, page me, okay?” Marion asks.
“You got it. Hey, do you know anything about Mr. Devereux?”
She shakes her head. “He’s probably a balding, portly, middle-aged man, surrounded by beautiful young women who are only attracted to his personality.”
I laugh. “Well, it should be super fun to spend a month with him.”
Marion pushes the cleaning cart out of the doorway so I can get the trolley through.
“What are you even supposed to do with him?” she asks.
I shrug. “White glove service. I’m at his beck and call to make sure he has everything he needs. Apparently, he’s very picky about everything and never happy.”
I’ll still be manning the concierge desk, but Crystal made it clear that Mr. Devereux is my top priority.
Marion eyes the items on my cart, which include exotic fruit, vintage whiskey that cost more than I make in a year, luxury toiletries, a wide variety of freshly cut orange flowers—and only orange—and custom made truffles.
“It’s wild how much money rich people throw away on a whim.”
“Absolutely insane.” I pick up a fruit that looks like a purple apple. “I wonder what a mangosteen tastes like. And he wants all this random stuff restocked daily. You’re seriously telling me that someone consumes multiple mangosteens a day?”
“Girl, billionaires are a different breed.” Marion shakes her head, making her glossy brown ponytail bounce.
We don’t have to worry about anyone overhearing our speculation because Mr. Devereux’s suite takes up the entire top floor.
“There must be something major going on because of the NDA. I mean, we’ve hosted professional athletes and CEOs, and I’ve never had to sign anything.”
“The whole situation is weird. I don’t envy you,” Marion replies.
“Well, if all I have to do is order a bunch of expensive crap, it shouldn’t be too bad.”
“Better you than me,” Marion says. “I’ll text you later. There are still four rooms to clean.”
I push the cart inside the suite, admiring the majestic view through the floor to ceiling windows. Even though I grew up with this backdrop, it never fails to make me pause and fill me with gratitude for my small town.
The jagged peaks of the Rocky Mountains cut a dramatic, smoky line through the big blue sky. In the spring and summer, the slopes of the mountains are lush and green. But with only about a month until Christmas, they’re covered in a thick blanket of white, punctuated by glittering frozen rivers and lakes.
Maybe Mr. Devereux is coming to take advantage of the fantastic skiing and snowboarding. Or maybe he’s spending quality time with a starlet half his age. Whatever he’s up to, I’m a willing accomplice. My student debt won’t pay itself, and I need this promotion.
Humming to myself, I unload the trolley as quickly and carefully as possible, finding the perfect spots around the suite to maximize the presentation of Mr. Devereux’s favorite things.
I’m just arranging the final bouquet when the unmistakable beep of the keypad entry fills the silent room like a bomb going off.
Shit!
I glance at my watch and realize Mr. Devereux is six hours earlier than expected. With only seconds to decide, I debate between finding somewhere to hide until I can escape unnoticed, climbing down the balcony, or apologizing profusely while rushing out of the room.
I can’t decide which option is the least likely to get me fired. No matter what, Crystal will blame me for any mishaps because he’s the billionaire and I’m just the hired help.
Hide.
That’s what I need to do.
And as soon as he takes a nap or has a shower, I’ll run for it. But what will I do with the trolley? Where can I hide that’s big enough for me and the cart?
Double shit!
I’m frozen in place when the door opens, revealing the most gorgeous man on the planet. He’s got to be over six feet tall, and he’s wearing a fitted black T-shirt over light wash jeans. His crazily impressive man muscles bulge all over the damn place, and my eyes are everywhere at once.
The guy is sex on legs.
My heart stops, and it takes three tries to swallow over the lump in my throat. When I can finally speak, my voice shakes. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t realize you and your father were arriving early. Everything is all set, so I’ll get out of your way. Again, I’m sorry for intruding.”
“My father?” The perfect male specimen strides toward me, and his face is so sexy, it should be criminal. But he’s frowning, his blue eyes stormy and his stubbly square jaw clenched.
And I most definitely should not be imagining how that stubble would feel against my inner thighs. Nope. I should not.
“Yes… You’re… I mean, your father is Mr. Devereux, right?”
The man standing before me can’t be over thirty. There’s no way this model looking dude is a boring tech billionaire. He must be Mr. Devereux’s trust fund baby, and my actual client should walk in at any moment now, probably wearing a bespoke suit and an equally grim expression.
I had no idea Mr. Devereux was bringing his son, but it’s no problem. I’m adaptable.
“Well, if you want to be technical, we’re both Mr. Devereux. And who the hell are you?”
“My name is… I’m… I’m Ava Harrison. It’s my job to make sure that you—”
“And my father?”
“Y-y-es… That you and your father have a wonderful stay with us. But I understand you didn’t want anyone here upon your arrival—”
“So, why are you here?” he asks.
I try not to huff. If he’d stop interrupting, I could explain. “I was just getting the suite ready for you. I brought all the items you requested and… And now I’m on my way. Again, my sincerest apologies for the intrusion.”
The suite is massive, but somehow this guy takes up so much space. I can barely breathe, and it’s like he’s on top of me, even though he’s at least three feet away.
“I’m staying in the suite alone,” he says, one eyebrow rising as he studies me. “The only Mr. Devereux you need to worry about is me.”
“Wait… Are you saying… Your father isn’t… You’re Benjamin Devereux?” My voice is an uncomfortable squeak, and I’ve never wished harder for a hole to appear in the ground so I could dive in headfirst.
Hell, I should have tried my luck on the balcony.
“Yes, the one and only. Now, let me tell you something, Ava Harrison.” He walks closer, and my skin ignites. I can’t believe I made such a stupid mistake. Apparently, tech billionaires can be twenty-something hotties and I just never got the memo.
I mean, he’s rich as hell and also won the genetic lottery. Who would have thought?
“Yes, sir?”
Heat flickers in his eyes, and my stomach drops like I’m on a rollercoaster. He smells like warm cardamom and smoky cedarwood, and I have to resist an overwhelming urge to bury my face in his very solid chest. At least I could hide my flaming red cheeks.
The man looks like a Roman sculpture, and I wonder how many hours he logs in the gym to be so goddamn chiseled.
Holy wow.
He briefly closes his eyes, and when he reopens them, it’s like he put on a mask. “The best way you can ensure I have a pleasant stay is to leave me alone.”
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Christmas with a Billionaire. It’s one of two holiday gifts I have for my readers, so stay tuned.
Olivia Peters 