One Midnight Kiss: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Holiday Romance
One Midnight Kiss: Chapter 13

It was Monday, and the first public advertisements for Hanna had gone live on Friday without a hitch. As stressful as it was, excitement thrummed through me too. I made it a point to go over every ad, double checking every detail. The last thing I wanted to do was promise consumers Hanna would do the dishes and change the sheets.

A dry amusement came over me at the thought. What a blip that would be. An AI that could fold laundry or wash the dishes. It had all the makings of a futuristic domestic thriller from the fifties. But honestly, that was where things were headed. Humanoid robots were already in the works. Hanna was a first step toward that reality.

I went to my office and could feel the energy. We had all put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into Hanna. We were so close to sending our baby out into the world.

I popped my head into the corner where our social media gurus hung out. They were all kids, fresh out of high school and college. They knew all there was to know about Tik Tok, Instagram, and the world of hashtags.

They would be the ones responsible for making Hanna known to the world. They were taking the marketing campaign and basically putting it on steroids. Natalia’s team had provided the hashtags and given them guidelines on how to push it. Although my guys would add their own special touches.

“Hey, guys,” I greeted them. “How is it going? Are the ads hitting?”

“Like a storm!” Jamie, the youngest of the group, answered enthusiastically. “Twitter is going crazy with #HelloHanna and potential customers are buzzing about it on Reddit.”

“That’s good to hear, I think,” I replied.

“Yes, it’s a good thing,” he said. “People are engaging.”

I felt a jolt of excitement and pride. This was it. This was what all our hard work had led to.

The only gray cloud in my sunny sky was Natalia. She wasn’t returning my calls. In fact, I hadn’t talked to her since I rescued her from the side of the road. I didn’t think we were going to be best buds, but I did expect us to at least be on speaking terms.

I had a feeling she was avoiding me on purpose.

Her pride was wounded. I got it, but I actually needed to talk to her about the symposium. I needed to do it today, before I bought her a plane ticket and reserved a hotel room for her. I also needed the information her team had put together for my Hanna pitch at the symposium.

Both reasons were good excuses to see her in person. I didn’t want to do email or keep playing phone tag. Hell, at this point I felt like I knew her assistant Penelope as well as I knew my own sister-in-law.

Deep down, if I was being honest, I could admit I kind of just wanted to see her. I missed a woman I didn’t even know. She didn’t like me. That much she made very clear. Maybe it was the challenge that had me walking right back to the elevators. I wasn’t used to women being so averse to spending time with me. Usually, I was pushing them away.

Upstairs, I barely made it down the hall before Penelope shot me a murderous glare. “Absolutely not,” she said. “I told you the last time you called, you have to make an appointment and I know for a fact you don’t have one.”

“No appointment,” I said, grinning as I approached her desk. “But you like me, right? We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well.”

“Debatable,” Penelope muttered, putting a folder down and turning her full attention to me. “If you’re here to see Natalia, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

I sighed. “Are we really going to play that game?”

“What game are you talking about?”

“You’re going to tell me she’s busy or not in the office and I’m going to have to barge into her office. She gets mad. You get mad. Let’s save ourselves all the drama and just let me in to see her.”

“There will be no more barging from you,” she said. “I have pepper spray and I’m willing to use it.”

I held up my hands in surrender. “Duly noted.”

“Besides, she’s not in her office,” Penelope said.

I sighed. “Is she in the conference room?”

“No. She’s not here. As in, she’s not in the office.”

I frowned. “Will she be in later?”

“She hasn’t been in since Thursday.”

That stopped me in my tracks. Natalia? Missing work? It didn’t fit the image I’d built of her. The sharp, unflinching, power-suited queen of the marketing world didn’t take days off.

“Why not? Is she on vacation? Pretty shitting timing.”

“She’s not on vacation. She’s out sick. Show a little compassion, huh?”

“Sick?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “She has the sniffles or what?”

“I don’t know,” Penelope said. “She just said she was sick. Although it’s strange, because she never uses sick days, let alone a four-day weekend. Is there something urgent you need her for? She did tell me I could call if there was an emergency.”

Yes, I wanted to say. I need to see her. I want to know she’s okay. But I wasn’t about to admit that to Penelope, of all people. “I just needed to go over some details for the symposium,” I said instead. “I’ll catch her when she’s back.”

“You could send her an email. Or have one of your assistants reach out. She’s not on Mars.”

“Between you and me, Penelope, I wanted to thank her personally for the Hanna pitch. It’s perfect.”

That did the trick. The suspicion melted from her face, replaced by a reluctant smile. “It is pretty great,” she admitted. “Her team worked themselves into the ground on that one. I think that’s why she’s sick. She wore herself out.”

“All the more reason to make sure she gets the credit she deserves,” I said smoothly. “Any chance you know where she’s holed up? I could send over some flowers.”

“Flowers, huh?” Penelope’s eyebrows shot up.

“Just trying to be a gentleman,” I replied with a wink, not letting on that I was actually worried about her. If Natalia was sick enough to stay home for days, something was definitely wrong.

“I’m sorry, but she would kill me if I gave you her address. You can send them to the office if you would like.”

There was more than one way to skin a cat. “That’s fine. Thanks, Penelope. Thank you for not pepper spraying me.”

“This time,” she said with a smile.

I left her office and immediately called Wilder. I still didn’t have Natalia’s number. She and her staff were gatekeeping that information. I doubted she would consider giving it to me even if I managed to make her fall in love with me. She was prickly, like trying to get close to a cactus.

Wilder had to know where she lived. He would tell me. But I would have to have a good excuse. I quickly came up with a story and then called him. I told Wilder I needed to have something delivered to Natalia’s house, flowers from the team for helping with the marketing, etc. When Wilder thanked me for being nice and then gave me her address, I was surprised to learn she lived in Kirkland.

I hadn’t pictured that at all. For someone like Natalia Dawkins, I’d imagined a glass-walled penthouse downtown, a sterile space with nothing but white furniture and cold marble floors. I swung by the florist and picked up a bouquet of flowers that was meant to be a thank you and a get-well gift.

GPS led me through a quiet neighborhood and soon I was pulling up to a cozy little house nestled behind a pair of old-growth trees, the kind of place that had ivy creeping up the brick. It looked like something out of a storybook. Like she was a fucking Snow White type of girl feeding birds out of her hands.

That was not the woman I knew.

I killed the engine and sat there for a moment, taking it all in. It was late in the day, and the sun was dipping low, casting a golden light across the yard. With a deep breath, I stepped out of the truck, headed to the front door, and knocked softly. The neighborhood reminded me of a library. I didn’t want to be too loud.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and there she was, wrapped in a thick blanket, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. Her nose was red, her lips chapped, and her eyes were glassy with fever. She looked like a wreck. A very cute, very miserable wreck.

“I assume that the sky is falling if you’re standing at my door,” she croaked, her voice rough like she’d been gargling gravel. “Did something go wrong with the campaign?”

“Quite the opposite,” I announced. “I came to bring you flowers, but now I see I’m making you some soup.” I stepped forward and brushed past her before she could slam the door in my face. “Beep beep. I’m coming inside.”

“What—Fox!” she spluttered, trying to block my way, but I was already in.

I froze once I got a good look at her living room, wondering if I had walked into the wrong house. It was warm, cluttered, and full of color. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books, plants, and little trinkets. A soft blanket was draped over the back of the blue couch, which was decidedly not sleek or modern. A framed photo sat on the mantel—her with a group of friends, all of them laughing. It felt like stepping into another world, one I hadn’t expected to find.

“Your place is nice,” I said, the words coming out more surprised than I’d intended. “Cheerful.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with the hint of a smile. “I don’t let people into my house, you know.”

“Technically, I barged in. Don’t tell Penelope.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Did she tell you where to find me?”

“No, she threatened to pepper spray me.”

Natalia nodded. “Good girl. Now, if there’s no problems with my work, please kindly go away,” she said before she started coughing.

“Sit,” I ordered, pointing to the couch. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, but I gave her a look. She sighed, trudging over to the couch and collapsing into it.

“I’m really not in the mood for company,” she muttered, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

“Surprise, surprise,” I said, heading into her kitchen. “Too bad you need company. And I need to make sure you’re not going to die before the symposium next week. You need soup. Tea. Something.”

The kitchen was as homey as the living room, with pots hanging from a rack and a bowl of fresh lemons on the counter. I made myself at home, opening cabinets until I found one filled with canned foods. I found a can of chicken soup in her pantry. It was expired.

I didn’t know if canned food ever went bad, but I didn’t want to risk making her sicker than she already was.

“What are you even doing here?” she called, her voice muffled by the blanket. “Couldn’t you just call? You know, like a normal person?”

“Didn’t have your number,” I said.

“And yet you didn’t get the hint.” She sighed. There was no real bite in her voice. Either she was that sick or she wasn’t all that mad that I showed up.

I chuckled. “Subtlety is wasted on me. Now relax and let me make you some soup.”