Free A Very Merry Billionaire Christmas (Special Edition Holiday Novella) by Melanie Marchande

Chapter One

    The Westbrook, Billionaire's Row
    Apartment 3607
    The afternoon of December 10 th

    "No."
    The curvy redhead shakes her wild curls, glancing at the home theater screen, then to her husband, and then back again.  
    "No? Why not ?" Tall and lean, all hard edges where she is all soft peaks and valleys, Adrian Risinger points at the image on the screen. "Look at that."
    "I'm looking," she insists. "I'm looking, and I'm horrified."
    "It's amazing. Did you see the falcon?"
    "I saw the falcon. I'm not clear on why a falcon flying directly at the camera is supposed to make me want to buy a hideous five million dollar house."
    Adrian tosses the remote down on the plush red sofa. "You're no fun," he says. "The implication is that the grounds are big enough to go falcon hunting."
    "The grounds ? Are you listening to yourself right now?" She leans on the back of the sofa, and Adrian reaches for her hand, smiling absently as their fingers intertwine without any conscious effort. "And don't even get me started on the interiors. This house looks like Tony Montana's wet dream."
    "Exactly."
    She snorts. "You are unbelievably tacky."
    "We're going to need a house eventually."
    "Why? This place is perfectly nice."
    "Sure, but it's no place to raise a family."
    "What on earth makes you think I want to raise your demon spawn?"
    "You seemed pretty eager last night."
    "That was just roleplay. Plenty of things are hot in roleplay, but that doesn't mean I really want to be kidnapped by a ruthless mobster. Or spend the rest of my life barefoot and pregnant in... that kitchen."
    "Don't be ridiculous, we'll have a staff. In fact, they come with the house."
    "You know, I'm pretty sure I saw that in a horror movie once. I don't think it ended well."
    He grins, patting his thigh, and she only hesitates a moment before rounding the corner of the sofa and sitting down on his lap. "I promise you," he says, winding his arms around her waist, "if we find a redheaded maid that I see as Alexandra Breckenridge, and you see as Frances Conry as a cloudy eye...we'll sell the house immediately."
    "After you have your way with her, you mean."
    "Well, obviously. I'm not going to pass up the opportunity to fuck a ghost. That doesn't just come along every day." He smiles, nuzzling against her neck. "Be serious for a minute, love."
    "You know that's impossible."
    "We need a house." He kisses her gently, just under her earlobe, before continuing. "Doesn't have to be in the kitchen, but I do want to see you barefoot and pregnant. I know you want it too. What I don't want is to raise kids in this soulless high-rise. Am I wrong, Megs?"
    "You know you never are." She sighs, smiling a little. "I want to have so many of your children. Like, twenty. They'll drive me insane but I'll love them more than I thought possible. Just like their dad. I draw the line at barefoot, though. I'm going to keep wearing shoes."
    Adrian lets out a dramatic sigh of disappointment. "Well, I think we should at least look at the place. For science."
    "Can't we make an appointment some other time?" Meg wrinkles her nose slightly. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd love to go to a crazy billionaire's Christmas party, slash house showing, but not as much as I'd love not to."
    "The house showing is just a rumor," her husband reminds her. "Besides, think of the stories we can tell the children." He grins. "All twenty of them."
    "You know the only way that's actually going to happen is if you figure out a way to splice your DNA with a seahorse and bear at least eighteen of them yourself," Meg snickers.  
    He wants to tell her how sexy she is, how sexy she'll be when she's swollen with his seed, but he can't quite find a non-laughable way to word it. He wants to tell her that her stretch marks will only add character. That he hates the idea that a woman's body is destroyed by the one thing everyone thinks she's supposed to do with her life.  
    But he's acted like enough of a sap