A Billionaire Boyfriend For Christmas - Holly Rayner Page 0,1

foyer, she realized that she had forgotten her coat. It was late November in New York, and that meant a cold wind that you felt in your bones.

Oh, well. The cold would just make her that much faster.

As she walked across the parking lot, she called her boyfriend.

“Sup?” he answered.

“Hey. I’m running out to my car for a sec. Thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.”

Danny had a cold that morning and had decided to stay home and work his regional manager job remotely.

“I’m okay,” he said. “How is it there?”

“So far, so good.” She’d reached the car and opened the trunk to grab the two plastic bags there. “Oh, hey. Before I forget. Corinne wants to know if we can come over at ten on Thanksgiving. She needs some help with the turkey.”

“Oh. Right.” He sucked in air.

“What?” She closed the car trunk and beelined for the building.

“Sorry, babe. I have to work that day. Just found out.”

Adison’s heart sank. “On Thanksgiving?”

“I know. It’s a bummer. Some of our restaurants are open that day, though.”

“I know, I just…” She shook her head and entered the glorious warmth of the lobby.

“But we’ll be together that night. After you get back from Corinne’s.”

“Yeah,” she grudgingly agreed. She didn’t want to complain. The two of them lived together, after all.

The thing was, this would be their first Thanksgiving together. Ever since her parents died four years before, Adison had spent the holidays with her best friend. It would have been nice to make her boyfriend of almost eleven months a part of the tradition.

She punched the button for the elevator and swallowed her disappointment. “You’re right. At least we’ll have that night together.”

“Sure will. Hey, I gotta go. I’m getting a work call.”

“Okay, see you when I get home. I love—”

He’d already hung up, though.

Taking the phone away from her ear, Adison exited the elevator on the third floor. The work space was over half empty, and other people were putting on their coats. The office took an hour lunch, but she’d brought a sandwich and some fruit and didn’t need to run anywhere.

Which meant she had plenty of time to do up her cubicle exactly as she liked it.

Forty-five minutes later, not only had Adison eaten lunch, but her work space was near perfect. With a red and green garland strung around the cubicle’s perimeter, an advent calendar next to her computer, and a stuffed Santa sitting in the corner, it was beginning to look a whole lot like Christmas.

She’d pick up a poinsettia or two when she had the chance, and maybe a little tree.

Yeah, she definitely needed a mini Christmas tree.

Satisfied, she settled back into her chair as the elevator doors opened and people started spilling back in.

“Hey.” Jazzie unlooped her scarf. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the deli, but you weren’t at your desk.”

“That was thoughtful of you! Thank you. I ran down to my car to get these.” Adison nodded her head and gave a flourish with her arm, smiling at her lunchtime handiwork.

Jazzie’s eyes widened at the Christmas decorations. “Oh. Wow.”

“I figured the place could use a bit of cheer.” Adison bit into her smile. “I noticed there are no holiday decorations around here, even with Thanksgiving in three days.”

“About that…” Jazzie’s gaze slid to the side, locking on someone approaching the other side of Adison’s cubicle.

Spinning her chair around, Adison found a tall, dark-haired man approaching. He caught Adison’s eyes, and it was like a magnetic force pulled all her attention to him. Perfection in a tailor-made suit walked directly toward her.

The man opened his mouth, about to speak to her, but then he clamped his mouth shut as if he had changed his mind.

Jazzie cleared her throat. “Hi, Mr. Montoya.”

Mr. Montoya?

As in Ken Montoya, the founder of the Montoya Foundation? The billionaire who had made a killing in investing during his mid-twenties, then switched gears and shifted to a career in philanthropy? At thirty-five, he was one of the most successful people on the East Coast.

Human resources had hired Adison, and during her two visits to the office for interviews, she hadn’t once seen Mr. Montoya. Wanting to learn everything she could about her prospective employer, she’d of course read up on him—but none of the stuffy business photos she’d seen online did justice to the demigod that stood before her now.

“How are you, Jazzie?” he asked with a curt nod. “And you’re Adison Hale, I take