I can’t lose her.
She was the best of the best. The most amazing hair and makeup artist he had ever worked with. She had made countless shots count because of her great eye to detail and awareness of her surroundings, pointing out things he had missed. When she did, at the start, it had irritated the hell out of him.
She looked like she did, a walking temptation, a pull to her like he had never felt. She made everything magical around her, and because of it, he had been ready to get rid of her. All prepared to fire her after the first four months of working with him. Not only did she make his body harden, he hadn’t been interested in giving any other woman a second look since she had walked into his life. But he hadn’t fired her. The thought of her not being around sucked too much.
Keeping her around had benefited his career, and personally he might have become slightly less of the asshole everyone knew him to be.
Picking up his phone, he called and glared at the screen of his cell at the sound of the voicemail.
“I thought you were my friend,” he hissed, his hands in fists. “Who the fuck do you think you are, man?” he asked before ending the call.
God, he was exhausted.
Mentally and emotionally drained.
Walking into his office, grabbing a bottle of bourbon on his way, he took a seat at his desk. He poured himself a glass before the bottle slipped out of his hand and liquid dripped all over the floor.
“Fuck!” Can life get any worse? he thought to himself as he cleaned up the liquor, then quickly downed the small amount that had made it into his glass.
Thankful the liquid hadn’t touched his computer, Zaiden tapped his fingers on his desk.
Michele.
With her pretty blue eyes and thick-rimmed glasses.
The way her hair changed in color depending on the season or her mood. He loved that about her. He loved how no matter what color or length, it was somehow always silky and smelled like the fucking heavens.
Zaiden gave in and pulled up the file on his computer he kept secret. Image after image, candid and some not so candid moments of the past two years popped up. All of her. God, she was beautiful.
Pulling up his favorite image of her, he zoomed in, letting it fill his large monitor, and sat back.
With heavy eyes, he drifted off to sleep with the image of her face in his mind and the fear of losing her in his heart.
Zaiden
Her hands skimmed upwards on his golden, tanned skin, barely missing the buttons of the dress shirt she had just undone.
“I need you,” her voice rasped in a hushed whisper, and a tingle of erotic sensation ran all the way down and through his toe.
“Fuck.” The curse escaped his lips, heavy and deep. His body was burning up and aching to touch her, to make her his, but he didn’t move.
She was right there. In front of him. Wearing nothing but a white satiny bra and panty set, and his mouth ran dry.
“Michele,” his voice rasped. Her lips quirked upwards, quickly turning into a sexy little grin.
He’d seen glimpses of that little grin in the past. On flights while reading a dirty romance novel, or whenever she looked at a rich, sinful dessert she treated herself to after a long day at work. His mouth watered for her and he took in a deep breath, his nose filled with her sweet scent.
“Please…” her voice pleaded softly, and who was he to deny an angel like her?
He stepped forward, her hands moving quickly. She took his dress shirt off, but when he went to reach for her, he couldn’t seem to get close enough to touch her. He tried again. Nothing.
“What the fuck?” he growled and took in the way she bit her bottom lip. The plush flesh creased downward. He tried to get free but couldn’t. He was stuck in place and quickly realized he wasn’t the one she was touching. It wasn’t his body her hands were gliding over.
What the hell is going on?
“Michele,” he called out, but his call fell on deaf ears. Helplessly, he watched her kiss the strong masculine chest in front of her.
From where he stood, he couldn’t make out the man, but he had to listen to her dirty words being whispered against someone else’s flesh. He tried to break free again of whatever invisible bonds had a hold of him. “Michele!” he yelled, moving side to side, but he couldn’t get free.
Zaiden tried to get her to see him, to notice he was there, so she could stop the fucking madness that was playing out in front of him. Right then, the man moved his head to the side, and when Zaiden caught a glimpse, he wanted to roar in anger.
Andy.
Andy, his own fucking friend.
He was touching Michele like she belonged to him.
“What the fuck?” he growled. “Stop, Andy,” he hissed, struggling to move his body. He pushed right, left, but nothing was working. They either couldn’t hear him or didn’t give a shit.
“Andy,” her voice cried just as the asshole’s mouth fell to her neck. But Zaid couldn’t do anything. No. She was supposed to call out his name, not Andy’s.
“Tell me,” Andy coaxed, and her soft whimpers were like arrows to Zaid’s heart.
“I’m yours,” she whispered, and just like that, Zaid’s heart pitched to his stomach.
No.
She couldn’t be.
She was his.
“For the longest time, I thought you would end up with him,” Andy murmured, his hands in her silky, light brown, wavy hair. Zaid managed to break his hands free and tugged on his own hair.
“What the fuck, man! Don’t touch her!” he yelled. The idea of someone else’s hands on her killed him.
“Zaiden?” she asked, and hearing his name, he stilled, his breath frozen in his lungs.
“Baby. Fuck. Michele!” he yelled, watching her pull away from Andy. Can she hear me?
“Yeah. Always thought you two…” Andy let his voice drift off. Zaiden had had enough. Fighting the constraints, he broke free and shot to her side.
“No,” she answered all too quickly, and he almost fell to his knees. How can she answer so instantly?
“I was never his type,” she confessed, her voice honest, like she believed her words, and Zaiden could feel his entire face clench. Had he made her feel that way? Didn’t she know she was the only one who could ever be his type? “Let’s not talk about him. Not now. That’s… He’s the past. He’s gone.”
“He was an idiot. He didn’t see what he had right in front of him,” Andy said to her, but Zaiden could still see the shadows behind her baby blue eyes.
“I see you, babe. I do,” Zaiden found himself telling her, and for a second it felt like she could see him. Her blue eyes blinked once, then twice. He went to touch her face, but his hand went through her as if she was nothing more than a hologram in front of him. What the hell!
“I will spend every day making sure you know I see you,” Andy swore, and then Zaiden watched him lift Michele into his arms, carrying her like a groom does a bride on their wedding night.
“Michele!” he yelled out again, and nothing.
When they walked past him and into a bedroom, he sat on the ground, his hands on his head, completely shattered.
Zaiden
December 23rd
“Zaid… Goddamn it, Z, your ass better not be dead and decomposing in here.” He heard a voice in the corner of his mind and opened his eyes, the light too bright in the room.
Heavy footsteps and shuffling sounded, but he couldn’t get himself to move. “Z!” The male voice called again, but Zaiden just settled deeper into wherever the hell he was.
“There you are, man. Thank God, you’re alive. I don’t know what I would have done if I had found your body. Shit. Don’t tell me you drank that whole bottle?” Andy asked him, and Zaiden licked his lips.
His mouth was dry and his head was pounding. He was too fucking old to fall asleep at his desk.
What the fuck happened?
Why the hell was Andy here?
“What the fuck are you
doing here? Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” he asked with closed eyes. The world was too bright and painful to look at.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Andy asked, and Z opened his eyes and stared at the one man he had considered a friend.
The bastard.
“You had to take her, huh?” he growled, his hands resting on top of his head so he wouldn’t kill him.
“Ahh… I see she finally told you,” Andy said, clear relief on his pretty boy face. This guy could not be believed. “Come on, man—”
“What?” he clipped, dropping his hands to his sides as he tried not to wince at the pain sleeping up at his desk had caused to his body.
“Come on, Z, she is fantastic at what she does.”
“I don’t need details.” He clenched his hands on the armrest.
The vision of someone else’s hands on her body, touching her, made his blood boil. It should be his own hands touching her. Only my hands. She was his.
She was supposed to be his.
“Are you kidding me? You know she’s amazing.” Andy kept running his mouth. He didn’t know how much more he could take.
“She is!” Zaid growled trying not to jump out of his seat. “You better treat her like she is and stop with the extra women and—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Andy’s arms went out, getting him to stop talking, “Why do I have a feeling we are talking about two different things?”
“What?” Z clipped, suddenly catching the date on the calendar on his wall.
It was the twenty-third?
What the ever-loving hell was going on?
“Zaid?” Andy raised an eyebrow when confusion stared back at him.
“Who were you with last night?” Z found himself asking, needing to know.
“You know I don’t kiss and—”
“Answer,” he clipped.
“Polly from the new candy campaign.”
“What?” Polly? Not Michelle? Was it all a dream? A bad dream?
“Polly, you know, the leading project manager for that shoot I’m doing for you tomorrow?”
“What?” His breathing was off.
Did I dream it all? Michele and Andy?
“Tomorrow. You asked me to cover for you—”
“Oh.” That sounded like him. ”Wait.” He shook his head.
It had all been a dream.
A nightmare.
But before relief could wash over him, he rubbed his face. “When’s the last time you saw Michele?”
“What?” Andy was now looking at him like he was crazy, and Z couldn’t blame him.
“Tell me.” He had to be sure. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“Umm, I think three weeks ago with you when we passed each other in the airport.”
“Not before that? Not even to meet up when you were poaching—”
“She came to me,” Andy pointed out, and if he was honest, it stung a little she had done that. “She called me two weeks ago. You know better than to think I would steal your girl.”
“My girl?” Zaiden asked, swallowing hard before getting up to grab a water bottle from the small fridge Michele had gifted him, specifically for his home office.
She had teased him about not being able to get out of this space when he dove into his work of looking over images. He was never more thankful for her gift than right then.
“Are you seriously going to tell me you’re not interested in Michele Henlin?” Andy asked. Z opened his mouth but quickly closed it.
He couldn’t deny the truth. Not after so much time or almost losing her or what that nightmare had made him see and feel.
“I love her,” he admitted out loud for the first time since having realized what he was feeling wasn’t just lust but love.
“Then what the fuck are you going to do about it?” his friend asked, and Zaiden sat back in his chair and exhaled.
He didn’t know what to do, but he knew it was time to do something.
Zaiden
December 24th
Pulling up to her house, he could see the soft lights on and frowned wondering how the hell it was that her small home felt nicer to be around than his own. He knew why. It was her. It would always be her. That was why he had to pull out all the stops; hopefully, she wouldn’t completely hate him for lying about today.
As he approached, he could hear her inside. Michele was many things; quiet was not one of them. It was a telltale sign you had fucked up huge when she went silent on you. He felt the sides of his lips quirk upward. He knew her. Really knew her. And, fuck him, he was in trouble because the more he knew, the more he loved her.
He didn’t have to wait long after he knocked on the door, her coffee in one hand and something he had worked on after he had set everything up for today, all wrapped up in silver giftwrap and ribbon, in the other.
He had made her something.
Him.
A homemade gift.
He wasn’t throwing money at something, which was what he usually found the best way to handle a situation. Zaiden Klausen had created something for someone else. Something he had devoted time and effort to making as perfect as he could with his own two hands.
“You’re early,” she pointed out hesitantly, looking at his hands.
“Coffee,” he muttered, handing her the cup, and she mouthed a ‘thank you’ as he stepped in when she cleared the way, inviting him into her home.
Looking around, he let the home-like feel wash over him. Only his grandmother’s home had ever felt this way. Like a place where you want to sit and stay a while.
Though, what he felt with Michele meant he never wanted to leave.
“You didn’t have to stop—”
“I got myself something; it was no big deal.” He shrugged it off.
“Well, thanks,” she mumbled.
“Plus, we both know how you get if you aren’t well caffeinated in the morning. Especially this early,” he shared teasingly and knew she understood what he was doing judging by the mock glare she hit him with.
“Whatever,” she muttered.
“Is this all you need to take?” He pointed toward her traveling makeup kit that was basically a huge luggage on wheels with all sorts of compartments and storage on the inside.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll take it to the car,” he offered but then just stood there staring at her.
“What’s that?” she asked, curious, pointing at his hands. He licked his lips and cleared his throat.
“It’s just something for, you know… you,” he nervously replied.
“Me?” Her eyes went wide and happy all at the same time in a way he wanted to do whatever it would take to keep.
“For Christmas. Whatever. Here.” He handed it to her, kicking himself in the ass immediately for not sounding nicer, and winced.
God, he was a jackass. Stopping in his tracks, he turned to her, her eyes like saucers behind her glasses, surprised gaze pinned on the gift in her hands.
“Merry Christmas,” he told her, trying to go for nicer. “Do me a favor.”
“What’s that?” she asked, now looking directly at him. Her eyes warmed his body up despite the chilly morning air creeping in from the open front door.
“Don’t open that till tomorrow.”
“Why?” she asked, slightly shaking it. “Is it a bomb?”
“If it were a bomb and you shook it like that, it would have gone off in your pretty face.” His tone was sarcastic, and he knew by the roll of her eyes that she wasn’t affected by him.
“Whatever.”
“Just… Please?”
“Please, huh?” Her eyes twinkled at him. “Wow, must be an early Christmas miracle for you to say that word.” She winked at him, placing the gift beneath her festive Christmas tree. “See, I can follow directions.”
“Another Christmas miracle of its own,” he retorted, making her laugh, filling his heart with so much joy he didn’t know what to do with.
He
’d seen her laugh, countless times, but each and every time felt like a special gift. Something to treasure. Something to strive to receive time and time again.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked now standing in front of him, and he shook his head. God, she was going to think he was losing his ever-loving mind zoning out the way he was.
“Like what?” His voice sounded rough to his own ears, and if he wasn’t mistaken, a pink tint brightened the apples of her cheeks.
“Nothing.” She shook her head, quickly looking away from his eyes and grabbing her purse. “Ready?”
“I am.” She had no idea how much he meant those words. “Question is, are you?” She gave a weird laugh and cleared her throat, clearly caught off guard by his attempt at flirting with her.
“You are even more ominous this morning than usual, Z,” she told him, walking in front of him after she locked up her home.
He let her have the last word.
For now.
Michele
He was acting weird.
Weird and suspicious.
Like he had something up his sleeve. And knowing Zaiden, it was going to be about finding a way to make me stay. Why he cared, I had no idea. It wasn’t like he was interested in me, at least not in anything other than the way I wielded a makeup brush and a blow dryer. I snuck a peek at him and hated how attracted I was to him.
It’s more than attraction, I thought to myself and looked away, getting lost in the view of the city passing us by on the freeway.
I loved him.
I wasn’t sure how it had happened or when, but there I was. Like a horrible cliché. The nerdy girl in love with her hot-as-shit boss. But whereas in a romance novel, the boss would love me back, Zaiden could hardly stand being around me. But there I was. Completely and utterly in love with Zaiden Klausen.
“Michele?” I looked at him and couldn’t help but feel how unfair it was. He wasn’t only hot, older, rugged but sophisticated, and utterly talented, but he had a whole other side he didn’t let a lot of people see.
Zaiden: A Scrooged Christmas Page 2
