Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

by M. Robinson

  The next day Georgia came back, appearing fully recovered, as bright and cheerful as she usually was.

  I knew she hadn’t been pouting or in any way trying to punish or manipulate me the day before. She went home because I’d truly hurt her, and if it would truly hurt her to see me with Stacie on occasion… well, it wasn’t worth that.

  I certainly couldn’t take Stacie to the gala.

  So, I told Georgia something came up and Stacie couldn’t go, after all. I asked if she could fill in for her, and I never saw Stacie outside of the bank she works at again.

  Also, I had a really nice time taking Georgia to the gala. I’d been too afraid before that taking her someplace like that would give her ideas, muddy the waters. If it felt like a date that night, I worried we wouldn’t be able to go back to the boss-employee dynamic the next day.

  I’d been worried for nothing, though. At the gala, it was like being in another world with her, one where I was free to touch her hip or the small of her back and the intimacy seemed casual. Just part of the experience.

  It did feel like a date and I spent half the night thinking about what it would be like to fuck her afterward. But I didn’t act on it, so Monday morning at work, everything flowed as smoothly as it had before. I discovered I could have pockets of time like that with her without putting our relationship at risk, and since then, I’ve been looking forward to another opportunity like that one.

  As soon as I received the Morelli Christmas ball invite, I knew this was it. I could’ve told Georgia about it much sooner, but I wanted her to think I hadn’t been able to find a date, or hadn’t had time. Really, I never considered going with anyone but her.

  The gala in Bishop’s Landing will be extravagant and festive, something I know Georgia will enjoy immensely. It’s a black-tie affair, so I even found time to buy her a dress and shoes to wear to the glamorous event. My lips curve up at the thought of giving them to her.

  “Um, which night?” she asks.

  “Saturday.”

  Her lovely face etched with regret confuses the hell out of me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s about to say no.

  Then she does.

  “I… wish I could, Lee, but I can’t,” she says regretfully.

  Stunned, I simply stare at her. “What?”

  “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head and looks back down at her phone, as if maybe it will change. “I have plans. I totally forgot that was this weekend. I’m going to see The Nutcracker Saturday night.”

  “By yourself?”

  “No.”

  “With a girlfriend? Surely you can reschedule.”

  Her cheeks turn an even rosier shade and she avoids my gaze.

  Dread slides into my stomach. “You have a date.”

  “Yes. If we were doing something else, I could reschedule, but not this. He bought us front seat loge tickets at a sold-out show, and the cost alone… I can’t cancel. I’m sorry.”

  Regret glints in her big green eyes as she looks at me.

  She’s serious.

  She’s really telling me no and going on a date with someone else instead.

  When I was married, there wasn’t much I could say about it when she went out with other men. I suppose there still isn’t, but I have to clench my jaw to keep in what I want to say.

  I’ll be damned if I let her miss the gala with me to go out with someone she won’t even remember this time next year.

  “What’s his name?”

  She drops my gaze and begins awkwardly fidgeting with her purse strap. “Nathan.”

  “Nathan what?”

  My tone was terser than I intended. Her eyebrows knit together and she glances up at me. “That’s an odd question.”

  “I know several Nathans.”

  She rolls her eyes at me, but there’s a faint smile on her face. “It’s no one you know.”

  Tension gathers in my shoulders. Ignoring it and my instinct to keep pushing given her apparent reluctance to share, I let her think I’m letting it go. “All right. Well, I hope you enjoy the show.”

  “Thank you,” she murmurs, looking down at the toe of her shoe as she absently flexes her foot and avoids my gaze. “I’ve always wanted to see it, so I’m sure I will.”

  * * *

  Since I rely on Georgia for pretty much everything, I have to get a little creative when it comes to thwarting her date. I can’t very well ask her for the information I want—I already tried that and she wouldn’t tell me.

  I know I could get it from her if I pushed the matter, but that would arouse her suspicions, so I’d prefer to do it a different way.

  I know she’s friendly with Tatiana, so I call her into my office the next day at work.

  She sits on the chair across from my desk with her back straight, her eyes worried. She probably thinks she’s in some sort of trouble, so she shows signs of visible relief when I tell her, “I need your help with something.”

  She manufactures a bit of a smile. “Of course, Mr. Holden. What can I do for you?”

  “You’re friendly with Georgia, correct?”

  She nods.

  “I need you to find out who she has a date with this weekend. I know his name is Nathan, but not much else. They’re supposed to go see The Nutcracker. I need more information than that.”

  Confused, Tatiana frowns. “About… Georgia’s date?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you just ask her?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Okay,” she drawls, even more confused.

  “But you can,” I point out. “Do it under the guise of friendly girl talk. I need to know his full name at the very least. If you can find out what he does for a living, where he works, those would be helpful details.”

  If she thinks I’m stark-raving mad, she doesn’t show it. Plastering a smile on her face, she says, “I’ll get right on it. I should be able to have that information for you by the end of the day.”

  Some of the tension that has been gathering in my shoulders since the night before begins to ease. I lean back in my chair and fold my hands over my abdomen. “Thank you, Tatiana. I appreciate your help—and your discretion.”

  Taking my pointed, unspoken order not to mention this to Georgia, she rises from her seat and heads out of the office to do my bidding.

  Chapter Four

  Georgia

  Bad news.

  I pause in typing the email I was just working on and glance over at my phone one more time, my brow furrowing with concern as I reread the message that just lit up the screen.

  Ordinarily, unless it’s an emergency, I’d ignore any calls or texts and finish my work before responding. But “bad news” sounds like it could fall within the realm of emergency, so I grab my phone and slide open the message.

  “What’s up?” I reply to Nathan.

  I see the three little bubbles on the screen as he types. My gaze flickers to Lee’s office. I feel especially awkward about texting some other guy on company time, even if he wouldn’t know.

  I look back at my phone. “We aren’t going to be able to do nutcracker this weekend after all.”

  My eyes widen. “What? Why?”

  He texts back, “I have to work on some ‘special project’ my boss just assigned me to last minute. He reimbursed me for the tickets so maybe we can go Sunday instead?”

  “They’re sold out Sunday,” I remind him, but I’m hardly paying attention at this point.

  On one hand, I’m bummed not to get to go see The Nutcracker. I’ve wanted to see the ballet since I was a little girl watching the Barbie version and dancing around my living room.

  On the other hand…

  If our date is canceled, that means I can go to the Christmas ball with Lee!

  I’m smiling more than a jilted girl should be, but he’s canceling, so I don’t have to. He was even reimbursed for the tickets—there is literally no reason for me to feel guilty.

  I suppose I can always go to se
e The Nutcracker next year. A Christmas ball with my ideal Prince Charming? It was hard to pass up to begin with, but now I don’t have to.

  I don’t even wait for Nathan to text me back. I don’t finish the email, either. I’m too eager to tell Lee so he’ll stop looking for someone else to take.

  He’s taking me.

  I can’t bite back a smile as I knock to announce myself and then peek my head inside. “Hey. Are you busy?”

  He shakes his head, his dark eyes shifting to me as he puts the phone back on its cradle. “Come in.”

  I do, smiling helplessly.

  “Everything all right?” he asks cautiously, probably because I’m vibrating with excitement.

  I try to tone it down as I nod my head. “I just wanted to let you know… It turns out I’m free this weekend after all.”

  “Really?” he asks, his eyebrows rising with interest.

  Another burst of happiness brings a big, stupid grin to my face. “My date had to cancel.”

  A little smirk tugs at his full, perfect lips. “You don’t seem too disappointed.”

  I shrug. “I wanted to see The Nutcracker, but there will be other shows. Anyway, now I’m free to go with you—assuming you still need me, of course.”

  His lips curve up in a smile too intimate for the office. “I always need you.”

  My heart skips a beat. I feel my face start to flush.

  Mischief gleams in his eyes, telling me he knew exactly the effect his words would have on me.

  Cocky bastard.

  I love him anyway, so I can’t muster much annoyance. I’m too happy.

  I have an almost-date with the man of my dreams this weekend—talk about a Christmas miracle.

  * * *

  As the weekend draws near, I get a few surprises.

  On Thursday, I find an appointment card on my desk for a lush spa on the Upper East Side. Apparently, Lee bought me a day of pampering before the event Saturday night.

  On Friday, Lee insists I leave on time instead of staying late like I usually do. I’m a little offended, but only until a delivery shows up on my doorstep an hour later. The man brings in a stack of boxes so tall, they obscure his face. I’m surprised when he puts them down and it’s Lee’s driver.

  “What are these?” I ask.

  “Gifts,” he says, grabbing the dress bag draped over the boxes and holding it up. “Go ahead and open them, I’ll wait.”

  I open the boxes and find a luxurious new coat, an expensive pair of shiny nude patent leather heels with signature red soles, and a glittery Jimmy Choo clutch purse with an optional chain strap.

  “Try on the shoes and make sure they fit,” Esteban says.

  I glance up at him, unable to hide my surprise. “He bought me all this for the ball?”

  Esteban nods, then looks pointedly at the shoebox.

  I sit back and kick out a leg so I can try on a heel, but I feel a little ridiculous wearing the elegant shoe with my pink and gray Aristocats pajamas. “I should probably just wear this to the ball, huh?”

  He smiles mildly at my joke and nods in approval as I angle my foot and admire the shoe. “Seems to fit.”

  Once I’ve replaced the shoe in the box, I stand up and turn my attention to the long dress bag Esteban is holding for me. “Is this the dress?” I ask, since that’s the only thing left.

  Rather than answer me, he unzips the bag and pulls the dress free. “You’ll have to try it on and make sure it fits,” he says, handing me the bunch of soft red satin.

  I can’t tell what it looks like, but I hurry to my bedroom to try it on. It takes a couple of tries before I’m sure I’m wearing it right, but my breath catches once I’m finally standing in front of the full-length mirror gazing at my own reflection.

  I’ve never worn such an elegant gown before, and I’ve definitely never worn something so sexy. I’m a little reluctant to walk out and show it to Esteban. I turn and watch the red satin separate and reveal my long leg. I turn even more and peek at my entirely exposed back.

  This is much, much sexier than I was prepared for.

  The thought excites me a little, though.

  If Lee picked out a dress like this for me, he must want to see me in it… right?

  Eagerness tamps down the burst of self-consciousness. I lift the bottom of the dress and parade out into the living room in the sexy red satin number. Esteban’s eyebrows rise in surprise the moment he sees me. He stands a little taller, then regards me as if seeing me clearly for the first time.

  “Well? What do you think?” I ask, doing a little spin so he can see it from all angles.

  “That’s some dress.”

  I crack a smile and turn back to face him. “It sure is.”

  Since I need to know how it will fit the night of the ball, I slip the shoes on and walk around my living room. The shoes aren’t terribly comfortable, but shoes that look that good never are. I prefer kitten heels around the office, these are much higher, but they’re sexier, too.

  I can’t imagine Lee seeing me dressed up like this, but boy, am I looking forward to it.

  Chapter Five

  Georgia

  I can hardly sit still as I wait for Lee to pick me up.

  I was off today, so I haven’t had anything else to focus on. I spent the morning hopped up on nervous energy, then the afternoon being waxed, rubbed, and primped until I looked like the sort of girl who belonged in the beautiful dress he bought me.

  Last time we went to a gala together, it didn’t feel so much like a date. Tonight feels like a date.

  I know it isn’t. I tell myself it isn’t. But it still feels like it is.

  My phone vibrates on the countertop in my kitchen. My heels click against the dingy linoleum as I cross the room to grab it.

  “I’m here,” he wrote.

  My heart begins to beat more rapidly and a shiver of anticipation dances down my spine. “Be right down,” I type back before grabbing the clutch purse and hitting the light as I leave my apartment.

  I’m wearing the lovely coat he bought me, but there’s still a chill in the air the moment I step outside. Happiness warms me back up as I spot his gleaming black limousine parked on the curb outside my building.

  It’s out of place here. No one living in my apartment building rides anywhere in a limo, but his is here pretty often because I have a tendency to work late. Lee’s penthouse isn’t even in the same neighborhood is mine; he lives right off 5th near Central Park. Knowing he goes out of his way to bring me home every night makes me feel special. Protected. Maybe even a little cherished.

  Esteban opens the door for me. I thank him before ducking my head and climbing in.

  Lee is waiting for me in his usual spot. I slide across the smooth leather upholstery and settle into mine.

  I flash him a smile as I settle the small, glittering purse in my lap. “Hey.”

  He nods at me in silent acknowledgement, but his handsome face does all the talking for him. The way his warm brown eyes possessively skim the curve of my legs, rake over the pale exposed skin of my ankle and lead down to the sexy high-heeled shoes he bought me. He looks at me like I belong to him.

  I wish I did.

  I wish he would tell me I look beautiful. I’m fairly certain it’s what he thinks, but he won’t say it.

  That’s fine, I remind myself.

  It’s not a date, I remind myself.

  I still wish he would.

  The drive to Bishop’s Landing takes quite some time, but the company is good, so I don’t mind. I watch the skyscrapers shrink as we drive away from the city. Lee grabs two glasses from the bar and pours some champagne.

  Cracking a smile as he hands me one, I ask, “Do we need to pregame for this?”

  His lips quirk. “We might.”

  Obviously, I keep his calendar, but when it’s an event I don’t need to know the specifics of, I block out the time with “silent auction” or “fundraiser,” something vague to account for his time. Tonight’s
event simply said, “Morelli Christmas ball, Bishop’s Landing.”

  The name is not unfamiliar to me, but if it is the family I’m thinking of, I have no idea why Lee would be attending one of their lavish events.

  Once I’ve swallowed the champagne, I decide to ask. “So, what is the purpose of the gala we’re attending tonight? Business? Pleasure?”

  “A bit of both.”

  “And the Morelli family is hosting?”

  “Correct.” He watches me for a moment, then asks, “Is that a problem?”

  “Not a problem, per se, but I am wondering how you know them. Also, if I should have packed one of those sexy thigh holsters and a gun like lady spies in the movies.”

  His dark eyebrows rise. “A gun?”

  “You know, just in case. I didn’t even think the Morellis ran New York. I mean, I’m obviously no expert in organized crime, but I thought different families ran different cities.”

  Now he’s looking at me rather oddly. “Organized crime?”

  I nod my head expectantly.

  “I think we might know different Morelli families. If you asked a Constantine, they might say these Morellis are criminals, but they’re based in Bishop’s Landing and that’s not exactly what they’re known for.”

  “I see. Well, in Chicago where I’m from, that name means a different thing.”

  His lips tug upward. “A thing that apparently means you would need to wear a thigh holster to one of their parties.”

  “Actually, showing up armed would probably get us killed. Better to show up doe-eyed and pretend I believe Mateo is just an uber-successful businessman. When I was a kid, my mom used to drive me past their mansion at night and tell me stories—” I stop, shaking my head. “That wasn’t the point. Let’s get back to the point. How do we know the Bishop’s Landing Morellis?”

  “Well, obviously you don’t, but if you keep going to these events with me, you’ll get to know at least the main players. We run in a lot of the same circles, so we show up at the same events fairly often.”