One Midnight Kiss: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Holiday Romance
One Midnight Kiss: Chapter 15

I woke up on Natalia’s couch. A crick in my neck told me I had slept deeply, which was something I hadn’t been able to do for a while. My eyes didn’t feel full of sand anymore. I actually felt refreshed.

The living room was lit with early morning sunlight slipping through her half-drawn curtains. It took me a moment to orient myself and remember why I was here.

Everything came flooding back. Natalia was sick.

She had fallen asleep on the other side of the couch, a blanket pulled tight around her shoulders. I had taken her to her bedroom and tucked her in, knowing she would sleep better on a proper mattress. I glanced toward her door, slightly ajar, and for a split second, I debated going in there.

Just to check on her, I told myself, nothing more. She was my patient. I was going to make her another bowl of Theraflu if she still sounded stuffy.

I stood up and tiptoed down the short hallway to peek inside her room. She was still asleep, her dark hair splayed out over the pillow like a messy halo. I didn’t want to disturb her but I needed to check on her. I could hear her breathing, but if she was still running a fever, I was going to find a way to break it.

I walked to the side of her bed, hoping she didn’t wake up and see me looming over her. That would freak her out. I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead. Warm but better than last night. I internally patted myself on the back for my stellar nursing skills. I pulled my hand back and took a moment to look at her.

It was weird seeing her like this, vulnerable and without that usual hard edge she kept on display. I pulled the blanket up a bit higher, tucking it under her chin, and left quietly. I wasn’t going to watch her sleep any longer than I already had.

That was creepy.

I desperately needed coffee. I made my way back to her kitchen that was now flooded with sunlight. That was a rarity. The sun highlighted the yellows and greens of her kitchen. It made it look very cheery. Again, I was surprised by how homey and eclectic her house was. It was very artsy.

Her kitchen was less organized than I had expected, which was a surprise. I hadn’t exactly gone through every drawer the night before, despite what I said, but I had gotten a good idea about where things were. I didn’t remember seeing any coffee. I started rummaging through her cabinets, finally finding her fancy French press tucked behind an entire row of health supplements. A multivitamin, a huge jar of collagen powder, and something called “Mood Magic.” I smirked. I would have to ask her about that one later.

Just as the water began boiling, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Jerrod.

“Morning,” he greeted. I could hear a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Where the hell are you?”

“Good morning to you, too,” I said, pouring the water into the French press. I watched the coffee bloom, the dark liquid swirling, promising a blast of caffeine. “I’m not coming in today.”

“You’re not coming in today,” he repeated flatly. “Care to explain why, or is this another one of your ‘I had a revelation at three a.m. and need to sit on a cliff somewhere to think’ days?”

I snorted. “It’s not that dramatic. I’m just taking care of something.”

“Uh huh. Do you want to hear the numbers from the campaign this weekend?”

“You know I do, you tease.”

He didn’t laugh at my joke. “We’ve got tens of thousands signing up to receive their Hannas once the rollout begins in December. Traffic on the website spiked like crazy, and we’re trending in a few key forums.” He sounded pleased but not overly so. Jerrod was a pessimist until proven otherwise. “The social media kids are pretty excited.”

“They hate when you call them kids,” I reminded him.

“Did anyone actually check their ID?” he asked. “I swear that one kid is like twelve.”

“Everyone looks twelve when you’re pushing forty, Jerrod,” I said, leaning up against the kitchen counter. “They know what they’re doing.”

“We’re both thirty-three,” he retorted.

“Deep down, you’ve always been a fifty-year old man in a younger body,” I said. “Any contracts yet? Any companies willing to do a big buy? Hotels?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But that’s why we’ve got the symposium. You need to charm the pants off these execs, Fox. It’s your superpower, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, if only the public liked me as much as other tech folks do,” I said as I pressed down on the French press plunger. “I’ll work my magic.”

“Where are you, anyway?”

I paused, a smile tugging at my lips. “Nowhere you need to know about.”

“Interesting,” Jerrod drawled. “You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”

“You don’t know I’m smiling.”

“Yes, I do,” he said. “I can hear it in your voice. Did you go out last night? It’s not like you to sleep over.”

“How do you know I slept over somewhere?” I asked.

He chuckled again. “Because you’re talking quietly and you’re not here. You hooked up and you’re doing the whole breakfast thing. Who is this woman that isn’t at work on a Tuesday morning?”

“Maybe she’s a doctor,” I said.

“Or homeless,” he countered.

“You’ll never let me live that down,” I told him. “I hit on a cute girl who turned out to be unhoused one time.”

He chuckled. “You thought she was a model.”

“Yeah, it turned out she was just really hungry,” I said. “But hey, I set her up with a job and an apartment. Last I heard, she got promoted and engaged. She sends me a Christmas card every year.”

“You’re a real saint,” he said sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got to go,” I said. “I’ll check in later.”

I hung up before he could pry any further.

I inhaled the scent of the coffee, appreciating the fact she liked the good stuff. Then again, coffee was like a religion in Seattle. I finally located the mugs, and before I filled one up, I added a touch of cream just the way I liked it. As I took my first sip, tasting the robust flavor of the beans she had selected, my mind raced back to the woman lying sick in her bedroom.

I might not be a saint but I liked helping people when I had occasion to do so. The entire AI project came about because I wanted to make people’s lives easier. The modern world had gotten so complicated. Everyone could use a little help to get through the day.

Running a hand through my disheveled hair, I took another drink, letting the caffeine hit my veins. Natalia’s door creaked open. I popped my head around the corner and watched her wobble out. She was wrapped in her oversized robe like a sickly little burrito. Her face was still pale, eyes half-closed, but there was a spark of life back in them that hadn’t been there the day before. She didn’t look quite as polished as she normally did, but she looked better than yesterday when she answered the door.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” I said. “How did you sleep?”

She grunted. “I slept.”

“Do you want some coffee?”

“Yes.”

I moved to pour her a cup and handed it to her.

She took it warily, eyeing me over the rim as if I might have spiked it with poison. “You’re still here?”

“Of course I’m still here,” I said, feigning offense. “I’m nursing you back to health.”

She didn’t look impressed. “I wasn’t dying.”

“I told you the soup would work, didn’t I?”

Her lips twitched. “That wasn’t soup, Fox. It was Theraflu.”

“Same difference.” I shrugged.

She took a careful sip of the coffee and sighed. “Okay, fine. This is good.”

“High praise.” I grinned. “I aim to please.”

Her gaze drifted to the window. “It’s sunny.”

“I know.”

I walked to the French doors that opened to the backyard. Yes, I was making myself at home. I stepped onto the covered back porch and scanned the tidy backyard. I imagined in the spring there would be lots of flowers. Right then, it was a little dull and drab, but that was to be expected.

“Yes, I know it’s Tuesday. No, I’m not coming in. I’m taking a sick day,” she said, sounding almost pained to admit it.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw her on the phone.

“I’ll be there tomorrow. I’m fine. Just one more day to rest.”

I moved to take a seat in one of the patio chairs. A few moments later, Natalia joined me. She settled into the chair beside mine with the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. She was holding her cup of coffee close to her.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice hesitant, like she was forcing herself to say it.

I raised an eyebrow. “For what? The Theraflu soup or the life-altering coffee?”

“Both.” She hesitated. “And for being here. You didn’t have to.”

“No, I didn’t,” I agreed, leaning back in my chair.

“You’re very blunt,” she said.

“I’ve been told.” I shrugged. “You are as well. Doesn’t it just feel like it works better? Too much bullshit and nonsense trying to sugarcoat stuff.”

“There is a place for tact,” she said. “I can be very tactful with clients.”

“I’m a client.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t be here,” she said.

I ignored her weak protest. We were both enjoying our coffee. I had been waiting for the right moment to ask her about something that had been gnawing at me all night. She was a very secretive woman. Guarded. Like she might be in the witness protection program. I decided to tap into my bluntness and just tell her what was on my mind.

“I looked you up,” I said.

“What?” Her head snapped toward me. There was a look of irritation on her face before she looked away.

“Online,” I clarified. “Your socials are dead. You haven’t posted in six years. Your profile at the firm is bare bones. You’re a bit of a ghost.”

“And?” Her tone was sharp, defensive. “Big deal. Not everyone needs to put their entire lives on the internet. It’s what we call privacy.”

“And you’re divorced.”

I saw the way her shoulders tensed, the way her grip tightened on her coffee mug. She said nothing, just stared out at the tiny patch of backyard visible beyond the porch.

“Why?” I pressed, unable to let it go. “Did you cheat on him, or did that idiot cheat on you?”

She stared at me. For a moment, I thought she was going to tell me to leave, to get out and never come back. She looked like she was debating tossing her mug at me, but then I saw her shoulders relax a little.

“He cheated on me,” she said quietly, almost like she was confessing a secret she had held on to for too long. “And that’s why I will never get married again. “

The silence that followed was heavy. I didn’t know what I had expected her to say, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it.

She gave a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I have moved on. Life happens. I’m not the first woman to be cheated on and I won’t be the last.”

“No, I guess not,” I said quietly.

We sat in silence for a while. I had a lot of questions, but I didn’t want to push it. I didn’t want to bring up bad memories. I watched her from the corner of my eye, trying to figure out what it was about her that had started getting under my skin.

I should have left right then. I knew I was crossing a line sticking around. I didn’t get the feeling she really wanted me there, but then again, she wasn’t telling me to leave either.

“What an idiot,” I muttered finally.

She glanced at me. “Excuse me?”

“Your ex,” I clarified. “He must’ve been an idiot to cheat on you.”

She smiled softly. “He was. But it was his choice. We all have to take responsibility for the choices we make, and we have to live with the consequences.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I replied.

Her words made a lot of sense, more than I cared to admit.

We fell back into an easy silence. I realized it wasn’t just concern that had brought me here last night.

I liked being around her. I liked this side of her that she seemed determined to keep from the rest of the world. The soft, unguarded version of Natalia Dawkins was someone I wanted to get to know better.