Twelve Nights with the Ruthless Billionaire: His Christmas Captive

Three

Fifty thousand dollars for twelve days?

I stared at Omarion Montgomery, trying to find the catch in those blue-gray eyes.

“As long as you’re there for her consistently over the holiday, the money is yours.”

I almost laughed. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to look completely unhinged in the middle of the hallway.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a black card with crisp silver lettering, and held it out between his fingers. His name and direct number were printed on the front.

“Call me by noon tomorrow if you accept. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll make other arrangements.”

I took the card, my hand trembling.

“For Zara’s sake, I hope you honor this,” he said before turning toward the classroom.

“Mr. Montgomery!”

A parent rushed forward, and then more gathered around him, competing for his attention. He handled them smoothly, answering questions and accepting greetings before stopping by the teaching staff. He handed each teacher a cream envelope filled with holiday cash, then headed back toward the exit.

What the f**k just happened?

I remained outside, still trying to wrap my mind around fifty thousand dollars, when he started walking in my direction.

I turned toward the wall and pretended to check the posted schedule. Anything was better than standing there staring at him like I'd never seen a rich man before.

Our eyes met in the reflection of the glass display.

His gaze dropped to my throat, then traveled slowly down the front of my sweater. It followed the curve of my waist and lingered long enough to make goosebumps prickle across my skin.

I knew that look. I'd spent years learning how to deal with the attention my body got from men.

Usually, I got irritated by predators who whistled, ogled, or stared for too long. But with Omarion, it felt different. For some reason, a strange pulse ran through me.

He walked past me and out the front doors without another word. I returned to my desk on autopilot, then remembered Zara's card tucked inside my cardigan pocket.

When I opened the envelope, five thousand dollars in crisp hundred-dollar bills sat folded behind a holiday card.

I lowered myself into my chair and rested my forehead against the wooden desk.

It wasn't just the amount. It was the timing.

I'd spent the entire morning sitting there with my bills, trying to figure out which ones I could delay and how much more debt I could carry. Now, within the span of an hour, I had five thousand dollars from a child who loved my class and a fifty-thousand-dollar offer from her father.

I pressed both hands over my face and let the tears fall without a sound.

---

Jasmine stared at me like I'd just told her I'd won the lottery.

“Fifty thousand dollars for twelve days? You're not pulling my leg, are you?”

“I wish I were lying.”

I opened a browser window and typed Omarion Montgomery into the search bar. Photos from magazines, gala red carpets, and business interviews filled the screen.

The Montgomerys controlled an empire that stretched across commercial banking, international shipping, and pharmaceuticals. They'd even merged several holdings with another major corporate dynasty.

Fifty thousand dollars probably was pocket change to him.

Jasmine clicked open his Wikipedia page.

Spouse: Eliana Sutton Montgomery.

Died last year.

We scrolled through the news headlines.

Billionaire Omarion Montgomery Loses Wife in Tragic Death

Montgomery Holdings CEO Mourns Wife

Eliana Montgomery, 27, Dies on Christmas Day

There was no cause of death listed.

I already knew he was a widower. I knew Zara's silence was tied to losing her mother. But until now, I'd never had a reason to look into his family.

“I’m not surprised he wants you,” Jasmine said, turning the laptop toward herself. “Zara barely acknowledges anyone else when you're in the room. But fifty thousand dollars? That's insane.”

I slid the laptop shut.

“I don't know if I should accept.”

Jasmine looked at me like I'd completely lost my mind.

“I don't feel comfortable around men who wield that kind of power. And the way he looked at me earlier...” I shook my head. “It felt like he was sizing me up. I'm not interested in giving a man access to my body just because he put a price tag on my time.”

The memory of his eyes lingering on my hips sent another flush across my skin.

Jasmine laughed.

“Lisa, first of all, you're broke and need urgent cash. Getting offered fifty thousand dollars to watch a kid for twelve days is a freaking miracle. Second, that man is Omarion Montgomery. If he wanted women, he'd have a line around the block waiting for an invitation.”

I leaned back against the couch cushions.

“So my instincts don't matter?”

“They matter, but you might be reading too much into a glance. Your hips aren't invisible, Lisa. Men look. Hell, even a saint would look.”

I snorted despite myself.

“Two things can be true at once,” she added, leaning across the coffee table. “He can think you're attractive and still genuinely want you around because you're the only person reaching his daughter. And if he does like what he sees, you'll never have to worry about your mom's hospital bills or some scumbag lawyer who was f*****g your pathetic excuse for an ex.”

I stayed quiet, letting that sink in.

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

“Lisa, this entire year has beaten you down. Taking a well-paid job doesn't make you cheap. How many people get offered fifty thousand dollars for twelve days of work?”

“I guess,” I mumbled.

“Exactly. So call him.”

“The deadline is noon tomorrow.”

“Girl! Call or text him right now and tell him you accept. Do it before you overthink yourself out of this juicy offer.”

She grabbed my phone from the table and pushed it into my hand.