Fa La La La Love Me (Naughty Christmas In July)

Chapter 1

one

Gabriel

“ I want her.”

The thin, angular woman standing in the center of my office crosses her arms and glares through the glass wall at her assistant. “She is not a model.”

“I don’t care. That’s the look I want for the Christmas catalog. I want her .”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Mr. Winter. Her employment contract doesn’t include modeling. The girls I brought over this morning are perfect for your needs.”

She takes a step to one side so I can glance at the trio of models hovering near the elevator. The agency states they specialize in plus-sized models but if any of them are even a true eighteen, I’ll turn in my designer creds. Hell, the blonde would barely fill out a sixteen and only if she puffs out her flat stomach. “No. They’re far from perfect.”

“Fine. Then you are subject to the contract cancellation clause percentages as well as being responsible for today’s auditions cost.”

“I didn’t say I was cancelling the contract, Ms. Abbot. Only that I insist on choosing the model.”

“I brought you the top of our line girls. If they don’t suffice, perhaps you need to go with another agency. But again, you will be responsible for those hefty fees.”

I can afford their ‘hefty’ fees. Angel Night Lingerie may have had a bad year or two during my mother’s illness, but now that I’m in control our profits are once again soaring. There’s no need for me to settle for anything but the best.

Pushing back my chair I stand and match her cross-armed pose. I jerk my head toward her assistant who’s busily doing something at a workstation. I catch her glance toward my office and Ms. Abbot. Her eyes widen briefly before she returns to looking busy.

Her boss gives a harsh, satisfied snort and returns her focus to me. I don’t think the woman has a clue what her assistant does, or doesn’t do, as long as she appears to be focused on work.

“I. Want. Her. I can’t state it any more clearly, Ms. Abbot. If her employment status precludes modeling, change her status. I don’t care what you need to do. That is the woman I want in the studio next Monday morning.”

“No.”

I tighten my expression and for a brief moment doubt and a hint of fear color her haughty demeanor.

She squares her shoulders. “No. Our attorneys will contact you with cancellation documentation and arrange for payment of the fees. Good day, Mr. Winter.”

Stalking toward the door, she calls out, “Olivia. We’re leaving.”

When Olivia looks up, Ms. Abbot’s sharp movements direct her to hurry. A tight fear lances through me. “Ms. Abbot.”

A dull angry red highlights her sharp cheekbones when she swings around and glares at me. “What?”

“I will not have you blaming your assistant for losing this contract.”

“You won’t?” She chuckles and motions for Olivia to join us. “You’re very demanding, Mr. Winter.”

Olivia gives a sharp, quiet knock on the doorframe then enters my office. Her dark eyes dart from her boss to me then back to focus on the woman tapping one foot against the hardwood floor.

Ms. Abbot’s smile turns wickedly sly and the fear of what might happen next lodges in my throat. “So, Olivia, it seems you have… somehow… gained Mr. Winter’s notice. He seems to know what’s best for you. Therefore, I have no recourse but to fire you. Effective immediately.”

Except for the slight parting of her lips, Olivia doesn’t move.

Ripping the stack of folders from Olivia’s slack grip, Ms. Abbot continues. “These are agency property. Security will allow you to enter the building at nine thirty tomorrow morning. You’ll pick up your pay and any personal belongings. If you are not at the door at the appointed time, you will not be allowed in and will forfeit your belongings. And any compensation due to you.”

I take a menacing step toward her. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh, indeed I can. My uncle may be the owner of the agency, but day to day operational decisions are mine. Rest assured, Mr. Winter, I do blame this former employee for the loss of your contract.”

“Ms. Abbot,” I begin but she cuts me off with a slash of one hand.

“No, Mr. Winter. We are through here. Be thankful I haven’t decided to blacklist you with other agencies as a contract breaker. You’ll have a difficult time finding any models willing to work with you if that’s the case. Oh, wait. There’s always those who aren’t quality. The unagented. Those girls who don’t have what it takes to make it in the fashion world.”

She moves toward Olivia and towers over her. “Wannabe’s and pretenders like this one.”

Nearly visible, her vitriol swirls through the room, flowing after her as she stomps toward the trio at the elevator. Waving one hand, she says something to the models and all four turn back to stare into my office. Two of the women join her in laughter, the third pretends but there’s sympathy in her eyes.

Despite the theatrics, I’m relieved to have broken this contract. No matter what it costs me. She mentioned blacklisting? Good chance there will be other companies who step away from business with her agency once I’m through.

A tiny whimper jolts me back to my office and the woman who is still frozen in place just inside the door. Readying my apology, I turn.

She’s staring at the elevator. A single tear trails from the shimmering dampness pooling in her eyes. Her lower lip trembles. Oh hell, I really fucked this one up big time. “Olivia?”

Her gaze lifts to me and my heart pounds hard in my chest. She’s more beautiful than I first thought. Even the agony in her expression calls to me, pulling at a need I barely recognize. Her agony. Shit.

“Olivia,” I say again. I reach to take her hand then reconsider touching her. She’s in a fragile state and I don’t want to make the situation worse by frightening her. I move a step back. “Come over here.”

I encourage her to sit on one of the wingback chairs arranged in a small grouping near the wide window overlooking the city skyline. Staring at her lap, she sniffs then presses the back of her hand under her nose. Panicked, I turn in a circle. I don’t have any tissues. Remembering my assistant recently added to the stack of small napkins in my bar console, I rush to gather a handful and hold them out to her.

She lifts her gaze only as high as my hand. “Thank you, sir.”

At her soft voice, a band tightens around my chest. Our fingers brush when she takes the wad of napkins and awareness shoots straight to my dick. I clear my throat. The interested part of my dick denies my next words with a twitch. “No sir needed.”

She dabs at her eyes, then hunching her shoulders, attempts to hide her actions as she blows her nose. Cutest damn thing I’ve seen in a long time. After wadding the used napkin, she wraps it in another and holds it between tightly clasped hands in her lap.

Taking the chair next to hers, I lean back. I need to be close to her, but not invade her space. Until she wants me to. I hadn’t realized how true my words had been when I told Ms. Abbot I wanted Olivia. Or how deep that need has settled in me, heart, soul, and body.

I shift and her head jerks up. She blinks owlishly as more tears shimmer in her golden-brown eyes. A sigh lifts her chest, drawing my eyes to the plump fullness threatening to pop the buttons on her dress. My mouth waters and I jerk my gaze back to her face. Thank god she’s staring out the window and didn’t notice my inappropriate interest.

“Mr. Winter?” she says without looking at me. “Why does she blame me?”