Billionaire Under the Mistletoe Read online

  Hannah Jo Abbott

  Billionaire Under The Mistletoe

  Copyright © 2019 by Hannah Jo Abbott

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  First edition

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  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  Also by Hannah Jo Abbott

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Fa la la la la la la la la,” Abigail Williams sang into her hairbrush as she stood in front of her mirror. The song playing from the radio came to an end, and she looked into the mirror and spoke to herself, “You really should be more serious,” she said. Then she laughed as she picked the brush back up and began singing “Rocking Around the Christmas tree.” Abi danced her way to the kitchen where she poured herself a cup of coffee. She walked to the window feeling hopeful. The weatherman had predicted flurries today. She pulled back the curtain and held her breath. She let out that breath in disappointment. “No snow,” she said. “I shouldn’t have hoped.” Growing up and living in her hometown of Denver, Colorado, she still never grew tired of seeing the snow. She had always felt there was a magic to the season, and that never changed.

  With her cup of coffee in hand she sat at the kitchen table. In the one-bedroom apartment she could see the bedroom and the living room from the kitchen. She pushed a pile of papers out of the way and brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulders as she opened her laptop. She navigated to the job postings page she had been looking at the night before. She would much rather open up the document holding her latest writing project, a romance novel, but she knew she had to put that aside for now. Her stomach growled reminding her that she hadn’t eaten breakfast. She thought about checking the cabinet for something to eat, but knew she would find it empty. Like her stomach. She wasn’t exactly a starving artist, she just hadn’t been to the store this week. And yes, her bank account was running low since she had paid the rent yesterday.

  Abi thought about her last office job and part of her wished she still had a job for the paycheck. But she had felt like working in a cubical had drained every creative thought right out of her. She had scrimped and saved for months, waiting until the right time to quit her job and write full time. But she hadn’t been ready when the company downsized and she was let go before she could carry out her plan.

  Now she sighed as she stared at the computer screen reading over job listings that sounded as bad as her previous employment. She read ten descriptions before slamming the computer shut and leaning back in her chair with her arms across her chest. “I won’t go back to something that soul sucking.” She told herself. “But what else can I do?” She moved the cursor over the file to her story and opened it up before she could tell herself not to. For twenty minutes she lost herself in the world of her characters. Her fingers flying over the keyboard with ease. Until her stomach growled again.

  Standing up from the table she made a decision. I will not go back to a cubical. She promised herself. I need to write. She sighed again, But I also need to eat. And pay the bills. All the things her parents had said came back to whisper in her ears.

  “Honey, you are a talented writer. And I know you love it, but you need to be serious,” her dad had said.

  “It’s fine to write as a hobby,” her mom had said another time, “But you need to keep a real job.”

  “A real job,” Abi said out loud, “A job that will take all your time and drain you of all ability to write ‘as a hobby’.” She shook her head. What would her parents say about her today? Closing the job listing page to write, all while she needed groceries and she didn’t know where her next rent payment was coming from? “I’ve got to do something,” she told herself. An idea came to her then. “Maybe I can get a part-time job so I can pay the bills and still have time to write, yeah that’s it.” She said. She pushed down the negative thoughts in her head saying, Uh yeah, that won’t work. She wouldn’t listen to that today. It could work, she would make it work. If only to keep from having to ask her parents for money.

  Abi took the few steps to her bedroom closet and picked out an outfit that was warm and casual but that she also thought would say, “Hire me.” Dressy jeans and a cream colored sweater was just the thing. She hurried out the door determined to come home with a job.

  ***

  Stewart Vincent couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Please, Joyce, don’t do this. Don’t go. I’ll make it work for you.”

  The woman held her hand up to him “I’ve made my decision,” she said. She went back to her desk and continued packing things into the small box on top.

  “But what will I do?” Stewart’s mind was racing. He paced his six-foot frame back and forth while running his fingers through his short, light brown hair.

  “You’ll find someone else.” Joyce was in her late fifties, and she wagged her finger at him now. “Hopefully someone that you will treat better than me.”

  “Don’t say that,” Stewart’s eyes were sad now, “I haven’t treated you badly, really? Have I?”

  Joyce stopped packing things for just a moment. “Mr. Vincent, you’re not a bad boss in the sense that you’re mean or cruel. But you ask a lot of me, and I just can’t give you that kind of commitment anymore.”

  “But you’re really going to leave me now, when we’re entering the holiday season?”

  “Yes, I am,” Joyce said firmly. “I want to spend the holidays with my family. I don’t want phone calls and texts all day long and I don’t want to watch the snow from my office window this year. I want to go out and walk in the snow. I want to go Christmas shopping with my daughter and make ginger bread houses with my grandchildren.”

  Stewart had been contemplating pulling the box away from her, dumping it on the desk and chaining her to the chair. Joyce had been his assistant since almost the beginning of the company. Stewart had started OneSource Technologies when he graduated from college, but he had been building gadgets and computers for himself since he was in high school. Some people might say they couldn’t have dreamed of the success he had found, but Stewart had been planning his business and making goals for as long as he could remember. And once his business became a multi-billion-dollar company, he only continued to push to do more and build better.

  Now he sighed as he spoke to Joyce. “Alright. I understand. But I will never find another assistant as good as you.”

  “Yes,” Joyce said, “I know.” She smiled. “You’re plenty successful. You’ll be just fine. And you’ll have people lined up around the block to apply for the job.”

  Stewart put his hands over his eyes. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” He looked at her now. “Can’t you just work out a
two week notice?” he begged.

  “No. I feel a little bad about that. But I knew if I gave you two weeks, you would use those two weeks to convince me to stay. So I’m going.” She picked up her box. “Goodbye, Mr. Vincent.” She stopped and looked him in the eyes. “I’m going to live my life. I hope that you will find time to do the same.”

  Stewart watched her go and slowly walked back to his own large office. He sank into the leather arm chair and stared at the wall. What in the world am I going to do about an assistant? He wondered to himself. But only for a moment. He would have to take care of that soon, but right now he had a meeting to prepare for. And no one to help him do it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Abi pulled her purse strap up on her shoulder and hoped it would stay there this time. She had parked her car downtown and was walking a row of shops, stopping in each one to ask about applying for a position. It was the holidays, after all, and she was sure that most of them hired seasonal help at the very least. She had filled out an application at a clothing boutique and a bookstore, and she had spoken with the manager at a florist shop. As she approached a coffee shop she had to make a quick decision whether to order breakfast or inquire about a job. The latter won out and she walked in with determination.

  “Hi,” she greeted the girl at the counter with a big grin. “How are you this morning?”

  “Fine,” replied the girl, “What can I get for you?” The girl seemed friendly and Abi hoped this was her moment.

  “I was hoping to speak to the manager. I’m interested in applying for a job.” Abi smiled again.

  “Oh, well I’m not sure we’re hiring right now. We’re pretty well staffed. But if you would like to fill out an application, we can keep it on file.”

  Abi tried not to let her face show any disappointment. But she couldn’t go home without a job, she had to have one today. “Thanks, I can work any shifts, and I could start right away. Today even!”

  The girl looked her over and sighed just a little. “Alright, let me go see if I can get them.” She turned and walked through the door to the back.

  Abi took a deep breath and let it out. Her desperation was running high. She drummed her fingers on the counters while she waited. “I could work here,” she said out loud. She saw a cup on the counter and without thinking she reached up and picked it up. She didn’t hear the door open behind her. “Hi, I’m Abi, our specials today are peppermint hot chocolate and Santa’s sleigh cookies,” she smiled at the fake customer in her mind. “What can I get for you?”

  “I need twenty coffees, and a tray of scones.”

  Abi jumped at the deep voice behind her. She squealed and without thinking she turned and threw the empty coffee cup at the man.

  “What in the world?” he said.

  Abi’s eyes were wide and her mouth dropped open. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

  He rubbed his eyebrow where the paper cup had hit him, “I thought you were asking me what I wanted.”

  “No, I was ummm…I was just practicing.” She stepped back as she took him in. He wore a long coat over his suit, and she couldn’t help but let her eyes roam over his handsome face and blue eyes. His light brown hair was perfect, despite the coffee cup attack.

  “Well listen, I’m in a huge hurry. I need twenty coffees and a tray of scones, plus, I don’t know, like sugar and cream and whatever you would put with a bunch of coffees.”

  “Oh, I’m uhhhh, I’m…” Abi stood frozen, not sure what to say.

  “Please can you help me? If you get the coffee and deliver them to my office in the next fifteen minutes I’ll pay you one hundred dollars.”

  “Really?” Abi said, her face showing her shock.

  “Yes, really. My office is just a couple of blocks away. Can you do it?”

  “Sure!” Abi said.

  “Great, here, this should cover the coffee.” He pressed some money into her hand, “I’’ll pay you the hundred when you deliver. Here’s the office address. Seventh floor.” He handed her a card. “Thanks, and please hurry.” With that he turned and left.

  Abi looked at the money and then turned over the card in her hand. “Stewart Vincent,” she whispered. She continued reading the name of the company “OneSource Technologies,” and her mouth dropped open as she realized who she had been talking to.

  Just then the coffee girl returned from the back. “I’m sorry,” she said. “The manager is busy and said we’re fully staffed, like I said. So if you want I can get you an application.”

  “Okay, thanks. I might come back and do it another time. But could I get twenty black coffees to go? And a tray of scones. And ummm, something to carry it all in?” She gave a pleading smile and hoped the girl didn’t think she was crazy.

  Coffee girl gave her a strange look, but said, “Sure. Cream and sugars?”

  “Yes, yes, please. Plenty of cream and sugars, and umm, maybe some napkins too?”

  “Would you like cups and coffee in a box to go? We usually recommend that over actually carrying twenty cups of coffee.”

  “Oh yes, that sounds good.”

  “Alright, coming right up.”

  It took a few minutes, but when the coffee and scones came out, Abi silently prayed that she would be able to carry it to the office.

  Coffee girl must have read her mind, “I can put it in a box for you to carry.”

  “Oh yes, please, thank you.”

  In the box went two pourable boxes of coffee, a tray of scones and enough cream, sugar, and napkins for a small army. Abi thanked the girl again and picked up the box. She groaned as she felt the weight of it, but smiled and headed out the door. She prayed every step of the two blocks to the office, through the lobby and up the elevator to the seventh floor. The elevator doors opened and she heard male voices down the hallway. She followed the sound and turned towards a slightly opened door. She pushed it open a little further with her foot and stopped at the sight of the long table with leather rolling chairs and several men in very expensive looking suits. She glanced around feeling like a deer in the headlights and then heard a voice she had heard once before today.

  “Thank you. You can put everything on the table.” Stewart Vincent came into view.

  “Alright,” Abi mumbled. She made it to the table and felt her arms practically give a cry of relief as she set the box down. “Would you like it poured in cups or left like this?” she asked no one in particular.

  “This is fine thank you,” Stewart answered. “Gentlemen please help yourselves, I’ll be right back.”

  “Stewart, where is Joyce?” An older man at the end of the table spoke with a look of concern on his face.

  “I’ll explain later, but Joyce is no longer my assistant.”

  “What?” Cries from around the room arose.

  Stewart held up his hands, “I’ll explain. Excuse me for just a moment.” He motioned Abi to go to the door and walked out ahead of her.

  Abi left everything on the table and followed him.

  “Your money,” he said, holding out an envelope to Abi.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “I appreciate you being so prompt.”

  “No problem,” Abi said.

  “So Joyce was your assistant?”

  “Yes,” Stewart said stepping back towards the door.

  “And you fired her?”

  He stopped and looked at her, his eyes narrowed, “I did not fire her. She quit, if you must know. Now please excuse me, I have a meeting to attend. Thank you for your help. I’ll be happy to pass along to the coffee shop manager that she has an excellent employee.”

  Abi bit her lip. She hadn’t lied, but she felt a little guilty letting him think she worked there, “Umm, well…”

  “Have a nice day.” Stewart turned and walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

  Abi crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Rich guys.” She turned to go and made her way to the elevator. As she watched the numbers going down to the first
floor, an idea began to form in her mind. Could I? Should I? she thought to herself. “No.” She shook her head as she said the word out loud. She looked up and decided she shouldn’t talk to herself since she might be on a security camera. But her thoughts continued. Maybe. The more she thought, the more she talked herself into. When the elevator reached the lobby and opened, she pressed the number seven and watched the doors close again.

  ***

  Stewart felt drained from sitting through the meeting. It was unlike him, since he usually felt invigorating by work. But he had explained to his board of directors how his assistant of seven years had walked out. Usually Joyce was beside him in the meetings. She was also the one to get coffee and set up the tables. So it was obvious today when she wasn’t there. He didn’t know how he was going to make it through the rest of today, much less the busy holiday season.

  He sighed as the meeting finally come to a close and each of the board members shook his hand and left. Stewart’s own father was the last to leave, offering condolences on the loss and telling him he better find someone quick, but someone good. Now, alone in the room, he stood ready to head back to his office. But before he could, he realized no one would come to clean up the coffee and straighten the chairs. He considered calling one of his business partners to send an assistant over to take care to it, but changed his mind. He put the lid on the leftover coffee and peeked at the tray of scones to see there was only one left. Only one thing to do, he thought as he picked it up and took a bite.

  “Mr. Vincent?”

  The voice startled him and he felt caught in the act. “Yes,” he turned, mouthful of scone, to see the girl from the coffee shop. He didn’t hide his surprise. But then she had surprised him first thing this morning when she threw a coffee cup at him. He had almost laughed then, and remembering it, he wanted to laugh now. But he swallowed the bite of scone instead and looked at her. “What is it?”