Shelter With A Billionaire

I stared at Mike; confusion spread on my face as our attraction was in the air. But I wasn't buying it. Our lips brushed, I gasped, jumping back, and my hand connected with his cheek in a hard slap. 

"How dare you!" I yelled, my heart racing. 

Mike's eyes flashed with surprise. 

"I should have known the moment your minion called; it was a plan to get me back on your bed!" I turned and marched for the door.

"Christine," Mike leapt in front of me. "Wait. I'm sorry, but that was clearly an act of urge, like old times."

I glared at him and crossed my arms under my breasts. The look in his hazel eyes did not convince me at all. "What do you want, Russo?"

"Let's have a seat and discuss why you're really here."

"Fine!" 

"I didn't mean to upset you, Christine, especially now."

I took a deep breath, feeling my anger soften, and sat on the couch, keeping the distance between us. "I know."

"Let's just start over. What do you say?"

I nodded.

"Would you like a drink?"

"Uhm…no."

Mike's expression softened. "How are the kids holding up? And you? Really?"

I crossed my legs and grasped my fingers on my knee, and a tight knot formed in my throat. "We're taking it one day at a time; we're living with a social worker. Sure, donations came in, but I feel terrible; the kids lost personal stuff that can't be replaced."

As I watched the house burn, I recalled Bunny had been on the couch as we left the house; Kimiko wouldn't sleep without her toy. I ran past the firefighters, ignoring their protests, and into the house; everything was on fire. I managed to save Bunny and got scolded by the fire chief.

The kids were hurt when I revealed the news. Daphne and Millie cried about a framed photo of their late dad that had been in their room. Trophies, photos, diaries—it was all my fault. I should have been more careful.

Gladys would be rolling in her grave. 

Mike nodded. "I understand... what I mean is, perhaps my hotel can offer assistance, school supplies, clothes, shelter—"

I narrowed my eyes at the man before me. "No offense, Mike, but I've seen the strip bar; I'm not sure it'll be good for the kids' morals." I pushed my tongue in my cheek, remembering the Playboy magazine I found hidden under Noah's bed.

Mike's face twisted. "No, Christine, obviously kids aren't allowed in that section. My security team is very tight."

Yes, but they've never met these kids. I thought and shook my head. "I don't mean to be picky."

Mike started talking about how his dad didn't believe anyone should live without a roof above their heads, but I found myself staring at his handsome face, hard jaw, thin lips, and the fact that his Italian skin was tan.

"This hotel is very childproof; hell, I barely sleep in my house."

I widened my eyes. His house was a stylish mansion in the suburbs, with seven bedrooms and lots of spaces. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Huh?"

"We'll take it."

"M…My house?"

I wrapped my arms around his neck in a hug. "Yeah, the kids will stay at your place."

 * * * * * * *

Mike's lips parted in shock and disbelief. "How many kids are under your care exactly?"

"Seven," Christine answered.

"Seven?!" He spat with outrage. He could imagine seven little boys and girls destroying his home and pulling down his seventy-inch flat-screen TV.

"Well, all teenagers except Kimiko," she repeated, pulling out folders from her briefcase.

An image of six teenagers destroying Mike's home by throwing a wild party ran through his mind. This is even worse.

Her face lit up as she opened a folder of a brown-haired girl in glasses, followed by another one who had a slight resemblance. "This is Daphne Tennyson; she's fifteen, along with her twin sister Millicent, but everyone calls her Millie. Oh, and this is Jayden Rawlings, also fifteen; he plays basketball, and look, this is little Miko."

The photos appeared like a blur as she talked about their unique talents; one of them wanted to play pro football at State. He looked at Christine, her eyes shining with tears, and felt a pang of guilt. 

Mike reached for the handkerchief in his pocket and handed it to Christine. One of the many things that made them different was her love for kids; he loved kids...from a distance and not in his home.

"Thank you." She sniffed and dabbed at her teary eyes.

He was so fucked. Mike took a deep breath and weighed his options, his quiet and tidy five-bedroom home... possibly his freedom to the kids all for the PR stunt. He was supposed to set up rooms for them according to the plan.

"And do you?" He swallowed. "Plan to live with them?"

Christine lifted a brow. "Of course I do; I'm their caretaker."

Mike resisted the urge to grin. He liked the option of having Christine in his home again.

She cleared her throat. "It's only for a short period of time."

"Yes, of course." He nodded. "Is the home insured?"

Christine looked away. "There's a lot of procedures; it might take months to get the money."

"Consider it done." He said. "I'll talk to my buddy who works in construction and start the rebuilding."

"Mike," She gasped. "This is too much."

"Not at all. It's the least I could do." He reached for her hands and held.

As Mike's fingers crossed with Christine's, a spark of electricity ran through him. He hadn't felt this connection in years.

Christine's eyes locked onto his, her expression softening.

"Thank you, Mike," she whispered. "You don't know how much this means to me…I mean the kids."

Mike's heart skipped a beat. He knew he was in trouble. Living with Christine again was like…Christmas in February. 

"For you Christine," he replied, his voice low and husky. "Anything."