Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Edries Franklin

E CCENTRIC BILLIONAIRE DIVORCES WIFE AND KEEPS HIS ENTIRE NET WORTH—LEGALLY! NOW ESCAPING ON A ROMANTIC CHRISTMAS GETAWAY WITH A MYSTERY WOMAN.

I smirk at the headline. Honestly, I’m not sure where the ‘eccentric’ comes from, but it’s one of those titles that’s been with me for ages. I can’t seem to shake it. Wear a flamingo print suit to an award ceremony one time and suddenly you’re stuck being eccentric for the rest of your life.

Fuck’s sake, I was sixteen!

However, the rest of it makes me very happy.

Well, happy-ish. I was warned about Bernice since we met.

She only wants to be a trophy wife. She’s not actually interested in you. Everything you see is fake. She wants your money.

While I refused to believe anyone about what they said regarding the woman I thought was the love of my life, there was one thing I did do—protected my assets so she couldn’t touch them. Before we married, I stuck everything in trusts and other protected shit (I don’t understand legality, but my team of lawyers do). Bernice even knew where the money was tied up.

She must have thought I was the stupidest person in the world to have not made her sign a prenup. But… I didn’t. Because I was sure she loved me as much as I loved her.

In hindsight, I’m convinced that it was all an act. She secured a leach position on me until our kids were eighteen in child support. She secured ‘maintenance’ money for the next eight years. Then the rat would be on her own.

The one bit of this I found some satisfaction in after she broke my heart was seeing the rage play out on her face when she realized she couldn’t touch a penny of my money or investments. Including the Winnipeg Avalanche—the pro hockey franchise I bought for our wedding anniversary as a gift.

It’s truly unfortunate for her she didn’t pay more attention to who exactly bought the franchise. Even knowing that everything I’ve worked for (or inherited as it may be) was protected from a gold digger, I really was left devastated.

It’s easy to say that money doesn’t buy happiness when you have money to bathe in, but since I was a kid, the one thing I wanted was a happy home. I wanted a wife, a big house, and kids to spoil. I wanted to take her on romantic couple trips and extravagant family vacations.

From the very beginning, Bernice didn’t like doing couple things. And yet, that was always her favorite part of romance novels and movies. I’ve even heard her talking to friends years ago about the perfect romantic evening. When I tried to recreate that for her, she wanted nothing to do with it.

Since then, I’ve realized that it wasn’t romance she didn’t like. It was me. To her, I was a means to an end. A financial end.

To this day, I’ve never heard words that hurt more than the last ones she said to me. “I can finally marry for love now!”

She looked so triumphant. All I wanted to do was sob.

Closing the app on my phone, I stare out the window at the raging storm just outside my private jet. We’re the last flight in; in hindsight, I should have left hours ago. But I was too busy trying to convince my ex to let me see our kids over the holiday.

Needless to say, she refused. She’s determined to punish me until I give her what she wants—money. Financial security for life, which she was so sure she was going to get in our divorce. The first time I think I saw her true colors—which, admittedly, I’d been trying to ignore since she told me she was leaving me—was when she finally fully understood that she wasn’t getting a penny of my net worth. Nada.

Suddenly, she wanted me back. She wanted our life back. She didn’t want our kids to grow up in a broken home.

For the very first time ever, I heard what she really meant, though. I can’t live without your money.

When I refused, she became nasty, and I thought I was witnessing another first—who Bernice Marinach really was as a person. She was fake since the day we met.

Because our kids are getting older—fourteen, twelve, and ten—I didn’t fight to force her hand in letting me see them. They’re old enough to see what their mother is all about. I already anticipate how this is going to go. I’ve been warned.

And this time, I listened to the warnings. Especially since so many of them were coming from her family.

Bernice was looking for another rich husband, and it was likely that my kids would be the sacrifice to secure what she wanted. They weren’t blind to how Bernice had acted since announcing her departure. They basically heard how she intended to use them as leverage to get exactly everything she wanted from me.

The doting mother who adored her children was no more.

This Christmas is just her first attempt at wrangling me into the chokehold she wants me in. Too bad for her, it’s just not going to work. I may have, accidentally on purpose, spread the rumor that I already have someone new, and I’m treating her to the things Bernice never let me do.

In a sense, I’m doing just that. I’ve wanted to spend a week on the snow-covered mountain over Christmas with my wife since I was a kid. It was just one of those dreams that I swore I’d do one day. In my mind, there’s simply no place more magical than being surrounded by snow while being warm in a private cabin while you celebrate an intimate, romantic Christmas together.

I’m doing that. Finally. Except for one minor detail.

There is no woman. I’m going alone.

This might royally backfire on me, honestly. I might hate myself more by the end of these ten days after I’ve spent them in solitude, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. This isn’t how I want to spend Christmas.

Well, it is, but with someone I love. Why is that so hard? Are there no genuine people left in the world? What kind of bullshit is that?

I’m literally jerked from my thoughts when the plane roughly hits the asphalt. There’s a wild moment when I think it’s not going to stop. Thankfully, I employ some fine pilots and we all land safely.

As I get to my feet, I meet them at the cockpit. “Please tell me you have somewhere warm and safe tonight,” I say. Usually, I’m better about taking care of my people.

Jeffrey smiles. “Don’t worry, Edries. We’ve got it covered.”

“I’m sorry. I should have checked before we left.”

He shakes his head. “You’ve had a busy couple months. It’s okay. Go before you can’t get to your destination. This storm is nearly on top of us.”

After handing them both gifts—actual gifts and not just money (though there are checks in the packages, too)—I grab my bag and head into the storm. It’s cold. I’m not dressed for the cold. I’m dressed for a luxury plane.

The walk across the tarmac is treacherous with the wind. I feel frostbitten by the time I’m led inside. As ridiculous as it sounds, I stop at the first airport store and purchase stupidly overpriced winter weather gear for the trip.

Clearly I didn’t plan this well. I was too focused on the warm, intimate cabin where it would be warm from a warm fire. I did mention warm, right?

The shuttle is waiting for me, and the ride is more terrifying than the plane landing. I’m reduced to praying to a god I don’t believe in that we arrive safely. And then I’m praying again when the reception tells me that the lodge is completely booked and they’re not sure it’s safe enough to drive me to the cabin I rented.

“I have a thousand bucks if someone will take me,” I say. I’m not fucking sleeping in the waiting room for days! It’s not like they’ll bring me back to town in this storm so I can get a different room, either.

“I’ll take you,” someone says. Thankfully, he’s wearing a uniform. “Ready, sir?”

Flashing a grin at the receptionist, I drag my bag to him and bundle up in my new outdoor gear. It’s still fucking cold as we move through the storm, completely unprotected on the back of the snowmobile. By the time we stop outside the cabin, I’m a shaking mess, but still hand him his well-earned $1,000.

Taking a deep breath as I stand on the porch and watch him disappear into the raging, but beautiful storm, I turn and let myself in the cabin. It’s so warm.

I stand inside the closed door and let the heat from the fireplace melt the snow from me. Shutting my eyes, I inhale the scent of fire smoke, pine, and cinnamon. Classic holiday scents. I wonder if they put something into the fire to make the entire place smell like that.

Eventually, I peel out of my winter clothes and leave the boots by the door and hang my new parka on the hook. The entry leads into an intimate living room, where the fireplace dominates the space, commanding your attention. On either side of the crackling fire are deep set cubbies, piled high with firewood. To the right is a Christmas tree, fully decorated and lit beautifully, with piles of presents underneath. It sits in the corner beside an enormous picture window overlooking the slopes of the mountain.

Not that I can see a thing but blackness outside right now. I bet in a few days when it’s passed, I’ll be able to see the stars clearly and the lights of the ski runs on the slope.

There’s a large round chair, made for two, and a deep-set couch perfect for cuddling. The back wall has smaller windows that flank a television, and there are packages there that I’m unsure of. Several wrapped in brown paper and twine.

There are worse places I could be for Christmas. And there’s very little that could make this scene better.

A note of something savory drifts through the air and I turn toward the only opening that must lead to the kitchen. There’s a light on. As I’m looking down the hall, I see a shadow move. I’m… not alone.

“Hello?” I call.

Something clatters. Silence. And then a man comes around the corner. We stare at each other for a minute. I’m not sure which of us is more shocked.

“Who are you?” he asks. “How did you get into my cabin?”

And…. This is going to be a fucking mess.