MR BILLIONAIRE WANTS A WIFE FOR CHRISTMAS

Chapter 1:

The evening for Andrew Taylor had been hazy with champagne toasts and forced smiles. Stumbling back into his penthouse apartment, the city lights outside twinkled mockingly at his exhausted state. So maybe the charity gala had drained him, but the alcohol numbed the pain.

The face of Linda, his loyal maid, greeted him with concern etched on her face. "Let me help, sir," she said softly, steadying him. Andrew's gaze locked onto hers, and for a moment, he forgot about the gala, the speeches, and the endless small talk.

As she led him into the bedroom, Andrew's inhibitions disappeared. He wrapped his arms around Linda, pulling her tightly to him. Their lips met in a rush of passion, and the room spun around them. The brief resistance from Linda turned into soft gasps and whispered words of encouragement.

At that moment, Andrew forgot all about his wealth, status, and responsibility. Everything was shrouded by the warmth of Linda's body, the taste of her lips, and the fragrance of her perfume. The culmination was animalistic, raw, and unstoppable.

Time lost all meaning as they succumbed to their desires. The world outside receded, and there were only the two of them, lost in a sea of passion. Later, Andrew's memories of the night would be hazy, but the feel of Linda's touch would remain with him forever.

They were gradually subdued as the night wore on, giving way to the softcadence of sleep. Andrew's arm layclasped around Linda, keeping her near. In his sleep, he knew a serenity he never had before.

But as the first light of dawn crept into the room, reality intruded. Linda slipped out of Andrew's arms, silently gathering her clothes. She departed without uttering a word, as Andrew's stare was still oblivious in sleep. Hours later, Andrew awoke to find the spot empty; his head felt heavy with a hangover. His blurred gaze met with the bloodmark on the sheet, a stark reminder of the night that had passed. Bewilderment carved on his face as he tried to remember details.

Andrew's gaze lingered on the bloodstain, his mind racing. Who was she? He couldn't recall her face, her voice, or even her name. The alcohol had blurred everything. But one thing was certain: she was a virgin. The evidence on the sheet was unmistakable.

Panic set in when the consequences came to mind. He had promised marriage, hadn't he? His memories were fuzzy, but the guilt was real. Andrew prided himself on control, and one reckless night had put everything at risk.

He threw off the covers and strode to the bathroom, splashing water on his face. The cold shock helped clear his head. He needed to find her. But how? He remembered only one distinguishing feature—a small birthmark on her back.

Andrew went straight for his phone and dialled his personal assistant, James. "I need your help," he said firmly into the line. "Find any woman who was here last night. She has a distinctive birthmark on her back." James's pause was short. "Consider it done, sir."

Andrew's instructions were concise: discreet enquiries among the staff, review of security footage, and if needed, combing through the city. A feeling he couldn't ignore was that his life was going to change forever.

While waiting for James's update, Andrew found his mind going back to the lady who mysteriously appeared in his bedroom. Who was this enigmatic lady? What drove her to disappear without a word? And why did he feel an inexplicable sense of loss?

The hours dragged on, but with each passing minute, Andrew's anxiety mounted. Pacing his penthouse, his eyes never left the phone, willing James to call with news of who the woman was who had so ensnared him, body and soul. And would she ever forgive him for failing to recall her name?

Andrew's phone shrilled, insistent, piercing the silence. On the other end was his mother, whose voice really contrasted with the turmoil in his mind. "Andrew, you are joking, right?" she asked, her tone tinged with annoyance.

"Mother, what's going on?" Andrew replied, still somewhat dazed by the mysterious woman.

"Don't play dumb, Andrew. You know exactly to what I refer," she snapped. "Your father's inheritance, the company—it all goes to Alexander if you're not married by Christmas. And to think he's bringing his fiancée, Emma, home for the holidays. She's lovely, by the way."

At the mention of his brother's name and Emma, his ex-girlfriend, Andrew's gut twisted. He thought to himself, "Now this strange woman is nowhere to be found, and I'm supposed to produce a wife out of thin air?"

Unbeknownst to Andrew, his maid Linda had a secret: she had silently admired him for years. Her encounter with him had shaken her. She was afraid of some consequence or other and erased the CCTV footage so that no evidence was found by James.

James returned to Andrew and said, "Sir, I have seen the footage; it is not clear. Nobody remembers a woman fitting your description." Andrew was getting frustrated.

As Andrew hung up with James, the ultimatum of his mother sprang into his mind. A wife by Christmas seemed impossible. But the thought of losing all that to Alexander and facing Emma again galvanised him. He would find a solution, no matter the cost. Little did he know, the solution might be closer than he thought, quietly cleaning his penthouse, her heart still reeling.

Linda's mind whirled with panic. "No, he must not find out," she whispered to herself, her body tear-bathed. "I'll lose my job and never see him again." The thought sent a chill through her.

She paced the small staff room, her heart racing. "What if he hates me? What if he throws me out?" The questions swirled, making her dizzy.

Desperate to keep her identity concealed, Linda swore she would remain mom. "I won't say a word, no matter what," she said to herself, wiping away tears.

Just then, a voice from the hallway echoed in Andrew's voice. "Linda! Where have you been?" Her heart jumped in her chest as she smoothed her uniform, composing herself.

As she entered the room, Andrew's gaze locked on hers. For a second, he had the impression that he saw the light of familiarity from hers. "You seem different," he said, frowning.

Linda's pulse raced as Andrew reachedher. "I need to adjust your uniform," he told her, his fingers touching her back. Teasing fingers, like feathers, tickled her skin and jumbled her thinking.

Andrew's hand slipped beneath her blouse, searching for the birthmark. Linda's breath caught as her eyes flashed with panic. "Sir, what are you—?" Just as his fingers grazed the hook of her bra, the doorbell rang, shattering the tension.