A Tree for the Billionaire (Southern Billionaire Romance Book 4) Read online

  A Tree for the Billionaire

  By Michelle Pennington

  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

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2018 by Michelle Pennington

  First eBook edition November 2018

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written consent of the author.

  http://www.michelle-pennington.com

  This book is dedicated to:

  All my relatives in North Carolina.

  Roots run deep!

  Chapter One

  And once again, the movies lie, Kate Ryan mused to herself.

  She shook her head while she waited for her order of chocolate croissants and apple strudel to be ready and mentally compared the city before her with the scenes she saw in so many Christmas movies.

  New York on the tenth of December was cold, busy, and gray. Especially before sunrise. In the Christmas romance she’d watched late last night, opening shots showed the Big Apple dressed to the nines for the holiday. Rockefeller Plaza, Times Square, Macy’s...the list went on and on. All of which, it was true, were beautiful and festive.

  But what the movie didn’t show was the trash in the street, the cold, homeless people with reddened faces and dull eyes, miles and miles of concrete and steel and glass, horns honking, and a million strangers who didn’t meet your eyes.

  For Kate, Christmas meant her small hometown—strings of lights over Main Street, a parade with Santa Claus riding the town’s only fire engine, calling “Merry Christmas” to everyone you passed because even if you didn’t know them, you knew they’d return the greeting with a smile. At her parents’ house, there would be a big balsam wreath on the door, a fire on the hearth, and a freshly cut tree in the living room, decorated with old-fashioned lights and handmade ornaments. She hated that she’d missed it for the last two years. She wasn’t going to miss it again.

  She’d made her decision, but it was killing her. The ache inside her grew sharper with every step forward. Fortunately, she’d become a pro at keeping herself outwardly calm even when she was a tempest inside. Otherwise, she would never make it through the day.

  With the pastries in hand, Kate arrived at the exclusive address of 740 Park Avenue at the unholy hour of six in the morning, just as she did every day. The doorman smiled and tipped his hat as he opened the gold-framed door for her. As Mr. Warren’s personal assistant, her entry to the home of some of the world’s richest people was never questioned.

  When she stepped out of the private elevator and onto the landing a minute later, she didn’t so much as glance at the Ming Dynasty vase in the corner of the foyer or the Mongolian tapestry hanging in the gallery. She didn’t even pause to appreciate the Monet hanging over the fireplace in the living room, though she had stopped and gaped at it the first time she’d walked through the luxurious appointments of apartment 16 and 17 C. She never would have thought it, but it didn’t take long to become bored with opulence when surrounded by it all the time.

  When she got to the enormous, professional-grade kitchen, she went right to work. Even though Mr. Warren had a live-in private chef and a housekeeper, it was her job to prepare his morning coffee.

  Kate heard Mr. Warren go into his office, the faint sounds of his movements easy to hear in the silent apartment. She picked up the mahogany tray she’d laid with Blue Mountain coffee and the pastries she brought. She carried The Wall Street Journal and the New Yorker under her arm, and a sealed envelope tucked away in her bag. Kate had not yet decided when to give him the envelope.

  “Good morning, Kate.”

  Her boss never failed to take her breath away. He stood at the corner of his desk, going through a short stack of mail his housekeeper had left for him. His clean-shaven face was a masterpiece with model-worthy cheekbones and a square, resolute jawline, but there was also a boyish cast to his otherwise-masculine face that always reminded her just how young he was. At twenty-nine, he was one of the youngest billionaires in the world—only a few years older than she was herself. But the aura of power and responsibility that he’d inherited along with his father’s business holdings made him seem older. And so very intimidating.

  “Good morning, Mr. Warren.” She never allowed herself to call him Christopher, even in her mind.

  “It looks cold outside today,” Mr. Warren said as he put the mail down and sat at his desk. His words were distant, as if he knew he should make small-talk but his mind had already moved on to other things.

  This was one of the only times throughout the course of the day when she had any time alone with him. Soon they would be leaving for the corporate office where he would be surrounded by his team of secretaries, lawyers, and accountants. He would run them ragged for nine to ten hours, and then she would return with him to his apartment to help him prepare for whatever evening engagements he had. Charity events, dinner with the mayor, evening parties with the world’s elite. When he left, she would run any errands he had given her, stop for dinner—always to go so no one would pity her for eating alone—and spend the night reassuring herself that she wasn’t miserable in her seven-hundred-and-forty-nine-square-foot apartment.

  That would be her life forever unless she did something to change it.

  “Kate?”

  Mr. Warren’s voice startled her from her abstraction. “Uh, yes? I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  He didn’t answer her right away, just stared at her from across his desk. She shifted awkwardly because she knew his piercing green eyes missed very little.

  “You are more solemn than usual, Kate.”

  There was just a touch of concern and even affection in his tone when he said her name, and it sent a shiver of awareness up her spine.

  If only he hadn’t been so innately kind, she might have been able to withstand his boyish good looks and astounding brilliance. But though he was often too sharply focused on his work to pay much attention to mere mortals, when he did, it was always with respect and genuine interest.

  It was the hint of intimacy that sometimes crept into their interactions that made it so difficult not to fall head over heels in love with someone she could never have. Her growing feelings for him made every day a kind of bittersweet torture. It gave her foolish hopes that would never be realized. If she ever wanted to find love and have a family, she would have to break away from this half-life, even though it would mean never seeing him again.

  “Kate?”

  Right. She needed to answer. “I’m okay, Mr. Warren. I just have a lot on my mind. But I won’t let it distract me again.”

  “I’m not worried about that. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “No. Please don’t worry about me.”

  He studied her a moment longer and nodded. Like any good businessman, he knew when to stop pressing.

  “I need you to go to Tiffany’s and purchase an appropriate gift for Gemma, something to console her after I break up with her tonight.”

>   Kate heard the note of shame and awkwardness in his voice. He hid it well, and if she didn’t know him so well, she would have thought him cold and heartless. But she knew how difficult it was for him to untangle himself from failed attempts at romance. If only he would stop looking for genuine feelings among the glittering celebrities he dated. Maybe look right across his desk for once.

  But even if he did, she knew that it wouldn’t end well for her. If a woman like Gemma Cardiff couldn’t hold his interest, or any of the other women before her, how could a lowly girl from the hills of North Carolina ever hope to? Sure, she had worked hard to blend into the corporate world, but she had no delusions of grandeur. It was better this way, even if the thought of leaving him stabbed at her heart.

  Her decision made, she reached into her bag and drew out the envelope. Her fingers trembled as she laid it on his desk.

  “Yes, Mr. Warren. I’ll go now and meet you at the office. But before I go, I need to give you this.”

  She put the envelope in front of him, laying it down over the business page of the newspaper spread open on his desk.

  He picked it up and turned it over thoughtfully in his long, aristocratic fingers.

  “What is this?”

  “My two weeks’ notice, sir. I’ll be on my way.”

  Kate turned and walked away quickly, like the coward she was. Her heart hammered at twice the speed of her heels clicking on the marble floors. Down the elevator, across the black and white tile of the lobby, past the all-seeing eyes of the doorman—she kept moving even though it felt as if the world had stopped spinning on its axis.

  The doorman flagged down a taxi for her, and she handed him a generous tip when he held the door open for her. Mr. Warren gave her access to obscene amounts of petty cash for such things, as well as a credit card, and now she was going to go spend a giant chunk of change on something sparkly for Gemma Cardiff. Even if the woman was rich enough to buy anything she could possibly dream of, she deserved something to console her for not getting to keep Christopher Warren in her life. But for Kate, who most likely knew him better and cared for him more than any woman ever had, well, she would get nothing. Except perhaps a reference letter.

  Chapter Two

  Chris sat frozen in the silent vacuum left behind after Kate dropped her bomb and ran away. He stared at the envelope in his hand, loathing its existence as much as he had loathed asking Kate to buy a farewell gift for Gemma. He should have gone to do it himself rather than see the look in her expressive blue eyes. She knew him entirely too well. He’d often been called a genius when it came to numbers and business, but he’d give half his fortune to be as perceptive as Kate when it came to people.

  In the two years she’d been working for him, he’d come to depend on her reactions to people—whom he should trust, who was feeding him a line, whom he should pay attention to.

  Unfortunately, she was just as perceptive about his love life, and he had yet to see any sign of approval from her towards anyone he’d dated. She was right, as always. No matter how hard he tried, he could never seem to feel more than a passing interest or slight affection toward the women he carefully chose to date. They were all beautiful, charming, and wealthy enough in their own right that he didn’t have to worry that their interest in him was purely financial.

  Maybe romance just wasn’t in the cards for someone like him. In truth, it was an after-thought in his life anyway. A disappointment there was nothing compared to the blow it was going to be to lose his assistant.

  Restless, he stood up and walked to the window. Looking down on Central Park, he thought of all the small but important ways in which she made his life bearable. Ever since his father had passed away ten years ago, leaving his business holdings and half his fortune to Chris, it had been impossible to ever feel comfortable in the life he’d been handed. He’d been trained for it his whole life, but so often he felt trapped and restive. And always alone.

  But Kate was endlessly serene. She helped him to be calm, to hold back his impulsive reactions until logic settled in. So often she anticipated his next move to the point that he wondered if she had somehow influenced him to make it. He always felt a spark of warmth when he saw her. With everything else in his life so cold and calculating, it was a welcome feeling.

  And her natural loveliness had certainly not escaped his notice. He didn’t want to be a chauvinist, and he’d never say so to anyone, but he enjoyed looking at her as she moved within the orbit of his life, much as he enjoyed having works of art to rest his eyes on. Kate was a much more pleasant sight than the squiggled up, wrinkled face of Mrs. Pratt, her predecessor.

  Why was she leaving him?

  There was only one way to find out. Sighing, he turned back to his desk and sat down. Picking up his gold letter opener, he sliced through the envelope and pulled out the precisely folded, single sheet of heavy paper. He scanned the words, reading to the end, but it was all formal, impersonal nothingness. She’d appreciated the opportunity, she’d enjoyed working with him, but felt that she needed to take a new direction in life.

  That last bit was the only interesting part of the whole letter. A new direction in life? What did that mean?

  He had no idea, but he was determined to know before the day was over.

  And if he could manage it, he’d get her to take her notice back, because he didn’t know what he’d do without her.

  Moving with decision, he gathered his phone and wallet, and headed for the elevator. It was the first time in ten years he hadn’t read the business pages before leaving for work.

  He texted his driver on the way down to the lobby and then only had to wait a few minutes before the doorman let him know his car was out front.

  “Good morning, Mr. Warren,” Roger said from the driver’s seat. “To the office?”

  “Yes. Quickly, please.”

  “I’ll do my best, but you know what traffic is like this time of day.”

  Chris clenched his teeth. He did know. It was seven o’clock, and New York was a madhouse as everyone scrambled to get to work. Normally, he’d use the time to work or catch up on the news, but nothing held his interest this morning. Christmas decorations were strewn from one end of New York to the other: giant red bows on windows, wreaths on every door, and decorated trees in every lobby. But Christmas was the last thing that he wanted to think about right now.

  Roger pulled into the exclusive parking garage under Warren and Croft Tower and then held the door open for Chris to get out. “Have a good day, Mr. Warren.”

  “You too, Roger. See you later.”

  As Chris moved into the elevator that would take him up to the 32nd floor where his office was, he frowned at the fact that he rarely had deeper conversations with people than the one he’d just had with Roger. The man had been driving for him for ten years. Why didn’t he know more about him? Kate leaving had opened up his eyes to the fact that he knew very little about anyone who worked for him beyond what was on their resume. And with Kate, the need to know more was urgent. She wanted something different, and he’d never be able to convince her to stay until he knew what that something was.

  When he came out of the elevator, there was a moment of hushed, still-drowsy lethargy before his employees saw him and jumped to life. At once, the whole staff became alert and energetic. Three people rushed up to meet him as he walked to his corner office. Two of them were his secretaries, Gerald Simms and Shaun Preston. The third was Kate’s assistant, Mindy Alford.

  As the secretaries peppered him with questions and information, Mindy followed behind quietly. As they all moved into his office, he turned to her and said, “Miss Ryan is on an errand for me. She’ll be back soon.”

  “Yes, Mr. Warren. She contacted me.”

  Of course she had.

  Mindy took his coat and hung it up then started a pot of coffee brewing and turned on the television to the stock-market coverage Chris watched throughout the day. These were all things that Kate usually did. Mindy seemed
to know exactly what he wanted done, but it made him grumpy that Kate wasn’t the one to do them.

  Was this what his future held once Kate left? Efficiency without her presence to look forward to?

  For fifteen minutes, Gerald and Shaun gave him documents to sign, reports to look over, and worked out his schedule for the day. Finally, he was able to dismiss them. He didn’t miss their raised eyebrows as they left, however.

  “Mindy?” Chris smiled to soften his tone. It had sounded harsher than he’d meant. “Did Miss Ryan tell you anything…surprising this morning?”

  “No. Was she supposed to?”

  Chris shook his head and sighed. If Kate had told Mindy she was quitting, there was no way she’d have forgotten. How did he pump her for information without raising alarms? He thought for a moment and then asked, “I want to give Miss Ryan a gift—for Christmas—do you know what would make her happy?”

  Mindy’s eyebrows went higher than Gerald and Shaun’s had. “Time off for Christmas? A plane ticket home?”

  That was not the answer he’d expected or hoped for. His brows drew together as he puzzled out what she’d said. “Where does she come from?”

  “I don’t know. Some small town in North Carolina.”

  “Kate is from a small town?” Chris was surprised into using her first name. He never would have pegged her as being from the country. She was so perfectly at home in the city.

  “Wow. I thought everyone knew that.”

  Chris tensed as his mood darkened. “Thanks, Mindy. That will be all.”

  Mindy’s eyes opened wide, and she seemed embarrassed as she stood and hurried out of the office.

  Chris picked up one of the reports on his desk, but for once, the numbers and graphs made no sense to him. He’d always been this way…like a dog with a bone once he had a problem to solve. It just usually hadn’t involved a personnel problem before. He had people to take care of that for him. He had people to take care of anything and everything. People like Kate.