Love Letters from a Billionaire (Lone Star Billionaires, #1) Read online

  She said, “Not yet. I see it all over the place with the movie ads, and I was interested.”

  I’d also seen the ads for the Red World movie coming out. I said, “It’s good, but you’ll like it more if you read book one first.”

  She made a little shrug and put the hardback novel back on its shelf. “Maybe another time. I don’t have a lot of free time for reading fiction, and I’m afraid if I get started, it will take over my life.”

  “I listen to audio books more than I actually read,” I told her. “That way, I can listen to books while I’m travelling or working out.”

  She nodded. “Good multi-tasking. I’d do it when I clean, but we’re not allowed to use headphones and it seems weird to have a book being narrated to an entire room.”

  “No headphones? What are you talking about?”

  “It’s one of the rules for Nilsson Tower maintenance crew. No headphones. I suppose it’s a safety issue to make sure we pay attention to what we’re doing and can communicate with each other.”

  “But you work by yourself in my apartment.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I don’t have a problem with your wearing headphones while you work in my apartment.”

  She smiled. “Okay. Great. Thanks.”

  Her smile lit up her face and made me smile, too. I realized, belatedly, that I was just standing there, talking to her, keeping her from doing her work, keeping myself from doing mine. “Goodbye, then,” I said. “And I apologize again for not setting the alarm.”

  She said, “No problem. It was a shock, but it could have been worse if you were just stepping out of the shower. I mean, at least you had underwear on.” She stumbled over the words, but she held her chin high. “It’s no different than meeting somebody at a swimming pool.”

  I agreed and briefly wondered what kind of swimsuit Nicole would wear. A brief bikini or a practical one piece?

  But that, like her private life, was none of my business. “Goodbye,” I said abruptly and left the room.

  NICOLE

  NOW THAT I’D SEEN VIDAR in his underwear, I couldn’t unsee it.

  Wowsa.

  I rubbed my hands on my face and gave a nervous little laugh.

  I knew his brother Gareth was fit. I’d seen pictures of him and his gorgeous model wife on beaches on the internet, but Vidar was always the one who stayed in the background.

  Which just goes to show that the quiet geeky boys work out too. I don’t know why I was so surprised. Vidar had a small gym in the apartment complete with a rowing machine and an all-in-one monstrosity with pulleys and bars and a computer that adjusted the tension. I’d researched it online and knew it cost thousands of dollars. Much too pricey for me. The machine had dozens of programmable workouts for every level, and now I could imagine him all hot and sweaty working out in a tank top and shorts.

  But whether he worked out or what programs he used was irrelevant.

  My job was to clean his apartment – nothing more.

  I rolled my shoulders back, put on new gloves, and headed to the master bathroom. But as I sprayed window cleaner on the enormous mirrors, I kept imagining Vidar standing there, brushing his teeth.

  VIDAR

  OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, I thought of Nicole often. I downloaded some of the surveillance footage from the security cameras but watching her clean wasn’t very interesting. I did find it amusing, though, that she sometimes waved at the cameras.

  I would enjoy talking with her but decided that it was best to keep my distance.

  And then in April, everything changed.

  I was called one evening and informed that my half-brother Gareth and his wife Yvonne had died in a small plane accident. The US stock market waivered for a few days, not knowing what would happen to Nilsson Technologies without Gareth at the helm, but I made a public announcement that I would be acting CEO until further notice.

  When my Grandfather Nilsson was alive, he ran the entire family with an iron fist and now, without him, my extended family was less organized than it had been before. With the crisis of Gareth’s death, we all called each other, wondering who would take charge. Grandma Rika wanted to help, but she wasn’t capable. She was still strong-willed and feisty, but her memory was not what it used to be. I offered to help Gareth’s mother DeeDee plan the funeral, but she refused. She has never liked me, and I suppose the feeling is mutual.

  I was afraid DeeDee might not let any of us attend Gareth’s funeral, but fortunately, my Uncle Theo stepped in and smoothed things over with her. In the end, most of my Nilsson relations were there. Grandma Rika buzzed around on a motorized scooter, terrifying two nurses who had been hired to watch over her. Uncle Theo and Aunt Dawn were there, along with their sons Conrad, Philip, and Bennet. My cousin Selinda came by herself, which was not surprising. Aunt Trudy was touring somewhere in India and couldn’t be bothered to come. She said she wasn’t good at dealing with death.

  But I knew better. If she thought Gareth would leave her something in his will, she would have been there front and center.

  The funeral was private with only family attending, but there was a memorial service open to the public and broadcast on the major television channels.

  As I sat on an uncomfortable folding chair and listened to Gareth’s eulogy, I thought about all the good he had done with his life and the tragic waste of it being cut short. When they played a video with clips of Gareth speaking and a series of photographs, I looked down at my hands clenched together on my lap so I wouldn’t cry.

  I also looked at my Nilsson cousins and thought it strange that Gareth was the only one of us who had gotten married. What was wrong with us? We were all in our early thirties now. I could understand Selinda not wanting to marry after her mother’s example, and I knew why I didn’t want to marry. But what about Conrad, Philip and Bennet? They had perfectly wonderful parents who loved each other and they didn’t seem to have any social disabilities.

  Of course, Conrad was living the rock star life. He might never settle down.

  It was good to see my cousins again, even if it had taken a tragedy to bring us all together. When we were younger, we saw each other at all the major holidays and at least once during every summer, but now that we were adults, busy with the business of making money, we rarely spoke. Philip talked about new developments for Nilsson Worldwide, including a new hotel in Hong Kong, and Bennet said he was working on a documentary on Grandfather’s life.

  Better him than me.

  Phillip teased Conrad and asked him if he was finished adding all the Norse tattoos yet. “I don’t know,” Conrad answered. “I’m a work in progress.”

  When they asked what I was doing at Nilsson Technologies, I said I was thinking a lot, which made them all laugh.

  It was a good-natured laugh rather than a mean one, but they didn’t understand. I could hire people to run my businesses; what interested me the most was product development. I spent much of my days researching and thinking. I might look like I was sitting and doing nothing, just staring into space, but inside I was thinking.

  At the reading of the will a week later, we learned that other than a few bequests, the majority of Gareth’s fortune would pass to his baby daughter Chloe in various trusts, and that I would be awarded guardianship over her, to make all decisions for her physically and financially.

  I sat stunned, saying nothing as DeeDee argued with the lawyer. “That’s impossible. What does Vidar know about babies? Absolutely nothing. I am Chloe’s grandmother. I should be the one to take care of her. That’s what Gareth would have wanted.”

  But that wasn’t what Gareth had put in his will.

  DeeDee had been Chloe’s caretaker since Gareth’s death. I believed that DeeDee cared for Chloe and that she had been an adequate grandmother, but I knew the real reason she wanted custody. Chloe’s estate was worth more than two billion dollars, and DeeDee wanted to have some control over that, especially since my father had left her only a few million in his
will eight years before.

  Did I want to be responsible for Chloe, a five-month-old baby? Absolutely not.

  But I would respect my half-brother’s wishes. Taking care of Chloe was now my duty and I would become a father to her.

  I vowed to do a better job than my own father had done.

  DeeDee refused to relinquish custody of Chloe, so I had to get lawyers involved and file different petitions and restraining orders. She filed counter motions and it took a month before Chloe was released to my custody. I tried to keep our family squabble out of the news, but DeeDee liked attention and soon there were articles about the Billion Dollar Baby.

  I made a public statement requesting that all forms of media refrain from publishing stories and pictures of Chloe until she was legally an adult. I wasn’t sure that was possible, but I wanted to avoid turning Chloe into another Gloria Vanderbilt. Her custody battle had been a circus in the 1930’s.

  I immediately hired a psychologist and parenting expert to be my on-call advisor. I also hired a cook and Miss Jessica; the nanny Gareth and Yvonne had chosen. Poor Chloe must be confused by all the changes in her life, and I wanted to provide as much continuity as possible.

  I brought Chloe back to Dallas, where I was most comfortable, and it was sufficiently far away from DeeDee in California that I hoped she wouldn’t stir up more trouble.

  When we all arrived at Nilsson Tower, I relaxed for the first time in two months. It was good to be home, As Miss Jessica carried Chloe into her newly decorated bedroom to get her settled, I walked into the kitchen and glanced at the refrigerator. No yellow sticky notes.

  When I opened the refrigerator door, I hoped that there might be some homemade chicken soup, but the carefully stock shelves seemed to mock me.

  No soup from Nicole.

  I wasn’t even certain she still worked at Nilsson Tower, and I knew it would be awkward to ask.

  CHAPTER THREE

  NICOLE

  Mr. Cline pulled me aside and told me about the changes at Nilsson Tower. Vidar was now the guardian of his niece Chloe, so she would be living upstairs with him. Two full-time nannies and a cook had been given apartments on the floor below him.

  “What about me?” I asked. “Does he want to hire a different housekeeper?”

  “No. He said he wants to keep you.”

  “Good. Thanks.” As odd as it might sound, I had missed him the past two months. I still came every day to his penthouse apartment to clean because that’s what he wanted, but I didn’t have to work long hours. There wasn’t much to clean – other than dust – when no one lived there.

  With the new occupants, the protocol for cleaning had also changed. After I scanned my thumbprint, I could either be cleared to enter because no one was present, or because someone inside granted permission. This could be the new cook, Mrs. Perez, or one of the two nannies. Apparently one nanny, Brooke, would take care of baby Chloe from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. and the other nanny, Jessica would take care of her from 2 p.m. to 9 p.m. six days a week.

  It looked like Vidar had the baby situation covered, but I wondered how he would deal with so many people in his space.

  He was a private man and didn’t like company.

  Brooke was the one to let me in. She was holding Chloe in her arms, rocking her gently. “Oh hi,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Brooke. What’s your name?”

  “Nicole.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she gushed. “Some employers expect the Nanny to clean everything, and I was thrilled to learn that you would be coming. Not that I won’t try to keep things tidy, I will, but I’d really rather not have to clean the bathrooms, if you know what I mean. No offense.”

  None taken. How could I take offense from such a friendly motherly woman? Brooke was younger than I was, probably twenty or twenty-one, softly plump and pretty with a round face and curly hair styled up on top of her head, looking like a fountain. Her curls bounced when she talked, and I assumed a baby would like that.

  “Don’t worry,” I said dryly. “I’m perfectly happy cleaning bathrooms.”

  “Do you come every day?” she asked as she followed me into the kitchen.

  “Every day except Sunday.”

  “I have Sunday off as well,” she said and giggled. “I don’t know how Mr. Nilsson will handle that.”

  “Maybe he’ll hire a weekend Nanny.”

  Brooke nodded. “Probably.”

  I asked, “Is he here right now?”

  “No, he left the minute I arrived. He looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep. Poor guy.”

  Naturally I was sympathetic to his plight, but I wouldn’t call him a poor guy. He was a very rich guy who could hire half a dozen people to help him take care of one baby.

  I said, “So, this is Chloe?”

  Brooke adjusted her so I could see her face more clearly. “Yep, she is the Billion Dollar Baby, although we’re not supposed to call her that. Isn’t she cute?”

  Most babies were cute, but Chloe was darling. She had reddish brown fuzz on top of her head and her ears stuck out a little, but her eyes were a deep, dark blue. She looked at me solemnly as if she knew the secrets of the universe.

  “She’s adorable,” I said. Unlike some of my single girlfriends, I wasn’t baby hungry. I could admire a beautiful baby without wanting one of my own.

  Brooke bounced her up and down. “She’s a little fussy today because she’s teething. Her lower incisors are coming in.” She opened Chloe’s mouth to show me two raised bumps on her lower gumline. “See?”

  I grimaced. “Sounds painful.”

  “It is, but Chloe’s a brave little girl, isn’t she?” Brook said and spoke directly to the baby. “Yes, ma’am, you are,” she crooned. “You’re a brave little girl.”

  I could see that if I weren’t careful, my cleaning times could easily become play-with-Chloe times, so I said, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Brooke, and Baby Chloe, but I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Fine, and we’ll try to stay out of your way,” Brooke promised.

  THREE DAYS LATER, ON Sunday, I got an emergency call from Mr. Cline. “Can you come and clean Mr. Nilsson’s apartment?”

  “Right now?” I asked. I enjoyed my days off and I didn’t want to move, let alone figure out the bus schedule.

  “He’ll pay overtime. Double time. Whatever you want.”

  “What happened?”

  “He said something about an exploding diaper?”

  I laughed. “All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I took an Uber and was keying in my code at Nilsson Tower forty minutes later.

  “What took you so long?” Vidar demanded as I opened the door.

  “How’s Chloe?” I asked.

  “She’s fine. Taking a nap. Finally.”

  He looked like he was at his wit’s end. His crisply ironed blue oxford cloth shirt was stained and half untucked from his pants. His hair was standing on end. There was a smudge of something orange on his forehead.

  He was picture perfect for a befuddled uncle left with a new baby for the first time.

  I glanced around the kitchen, which looked like a bomb had gone off. There was an assortment of bottles, spoons, baby food jars and bowls on the table and the counters.

  On the counter, there was a Vitamix with some brown colored sludge at the bottom of the glass blender container.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “Sweet potatoes and avocado. She didn’t like the bottled food.”

  “Maybe she wasn’t hungry,” I said. “You know, not all six-month-old babies eat solid foods.”

  He said, “My mother says I did.”

  I smiled. I found it endearing that he was asking his mother for advice. I said dryly, “Maybe you were very advanced.” I motioned to the kitchen. “Before I start cleaning up here, I want to take a tour of the apartment to see the entire picture.”

  “Go ahead.”

  I walked into the nursery and saw that Chloe was sleeping peacefully i
n the crib. She lay on her stomach with her rump up in the air, covered with a blanket. There were clothes on the floor – some of them coated in runny baby poop. Fortunately, the floor was hardwood instead of carpet, so it would be easier to clean.

  “Wow,” I said quietly. “Mr. Cline wasn’t exaggerating when he said you had an exploding diaper.”

  Vidar said, “She ruined a shirt of mine as well. It’s in the laundry in the master bath.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.” I did not normally do Vidar’s laundry, it was all bagged up and professionally laundered, but there was a washer and dryer in the apartment for incidentals.

  Vidar said, “Do you think she’s sick? I’ve been reading online and it seems that loose bowels can be normal?”

  I gathered up the dirty clothes and pointed to the bedroom door, so we could leave quietly. Once we were outside the room, I smiled and said, “Unfortunately, yes, it is normal.”

  He followed me to the laundry room. “But how can it be normal for babies to have diarrhea?”

  I shrugged. “It just happens. And sometimes, when babies eat a new food, like that sweet potatoes and avocado concoction, their immature digestive systems react violently.”

  “Well, it took me by surprise. She was crying. I had to change clothes, so I just put her in the crib, while I took care of myself, and then I wiped her down and got another diaper on her.”

  “Did you give her a bath?”

  He blanched. “I didn’t think of that. I just wiped her off with the diaper wipes. I’m getting better with changing diapers, but I’ve never given her a bath.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll learn,” I said. “And she seems fine.” I wasn’t too worried. Brooke would be there in the morning and give Chloe a bath. Vidar watched as I rinsed the stained clothes and then left them to soak in an enzyme cleaner in a dishpan. I loaded the washing machine with Chloe’s other clothes and started a wash.

  He said, “I appreciate your coming on short notice.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  “But I would like you to be closer next time. Would you like to have an apartment in Nilsson Tower?”