Chapter 2
Izzy
Izzy fidgeted, her gaze sliding to the windows where outside the storm was building with frightening speed.
This wasn’t good. She needed to get out of here. She needed to get out of here right now. It might already be too late. She
loved her job, but not enough to die doing it.
“It’s incredible. I never realised it could look like this. Never pictured it.” The man gazed at his newly staged home in
awe, oblivious to the snow that pirouetted and twirled beyond his windows. He saw only the visible evidence of his success.
“I almost want to hold on to it myself. Great job. The place is going to sell for top dollar. Your company said you were the
best and you are. And I’m not easy to please.”
No kidding.
Izzy kept a polite smile pinned to her face.
The man had complained, demanded and changed his mind a thousand times over the past few weeks.
She’d been ready to dig a hole and bury him somewhere in the fifty-two acres of land that surrounded his property.
But it had also been a challenge, and she loved a challenge. Exceeding expectations gave her a buzz.
“I’m pleased you’re pleased.”
And she was relieved the job was finally done, not least because the weather was worsening by the second.
Behind her client a wall of glass should have offered breathtaking views across the Green Mountain Range and the National
Forest, but the only thing visible was swirling snow. It was like standing in a snow globe after someone had shaken it hard.
Everyone else with any sense was already heading home to snuggle safely in the warm. At this rate Izzy was going to be the
last person on the roads.
She eyed the snow uneasily. She was a confident driver, but she was also a sensible person and she knew that driving in this
wasn’t sensible.
They’d been predicting this storm for days, which was why Izzy had tried to persuade the client to postpone the final staging
of his property until the New Year, but he’d refused to budge. Like so many wealthy people, he wanted what he wanted, and
he wanted it right now. And her company wanted to retain him as a client, which was why her boss had also dismissed her suggestion
that they postpone until after the holidays.
It’s just a little snow and wind, Izzy. You’ll be fine.
So here she was, three days before Christmas, in a glass-fronted mansion that would have housed an entire basketball team
and all their supporters, with a man who had more money than he knew what to do with and the storm of the century building
outside.
Maybe he could use some of his wealth to pay for her funeral, she thought, because at this rate she was going to need one.
On the positive side, if she was buried in a snowdrift then at least she would be spared the misery of spending Christmas
alone in the soulless studio apartment she was renting.
Most of her belongings were still in boxes in the middle of the floor. Since picking up the keys, she’d been too busy to even
hang a painting on the wall. It was ironic that she staged houses for a living and yet her own apartment had all the charm
of a filing cabinet.
Still, she’d rather be alone in her bare depressing apartment than here with him. There was something about him that made
her uneasy. Yes, he was rich and would probably be considered handsome by some, but he was also a little creepy. Whichever
room she was in, he was there too. He kept looking at her, and every time she started to gather her things together he engaged
her in conversation.
Relieved that she wasn’t alone with him, she glanced across the room to where her colleague Jason was carefully packing up
his camera and the rest of the equipment. He wasn’t technically her colleague because he was freelance, but they’d worked
together on the last eight assignments and so she thought of him that way. And freelance or not, she was pleased he was here,
and not just because she’d had a wild crush on him since the day he’d stepped into the office to discuss working with them
on some of their biggest clients.
He’s expensive, but he’s good, her boss had said, and her friend Chloe had muttered that she was sure he was worth every cent
and that maybe he was on the wrong end of the camera.
His photos had an artistic brilliance that had undoubtedly contributed to the fact that most of the properties he photographed sold for more than their original valuation, but that wasn’t why Izzy liked him.
She liked the way he stayed calm when everyone around him was panicking, and she liked the way he paid attention.
This shoot was another example of that. Whichever room Izzy had been in, Jason had been there too, and now she was wondering if that had been intentional on his part.
Whether he’d also noticed the almost oppressive presence of their demanding client.
He sent a quick glance in her direction and gave a quick nod to indicate that he was ready.
The client stepped closer. “How about a Christmas drink to celebrate?”
“Thanks, but it’s getting late and I really should get on the road.” This time Izzy was firm. Yes, he was an important client,
but it didn’t mean she couldn’t have boundaries. She’d done the work. As far as she was concerned, that was the end of it.
“One little drink isn’t going to hurt.”
Jason slung one bag onto his shoulder. “Weather’s closing in and we have to stop at the office on the way back.” His tone
was easy and friendly as he picked up the remaining bags in one hand. “I need to sort through these images and pick the best.”
“You go ahead.” The client gestured to the door. “Izzy will follow.”
Jason didn’t budge. “We came together. She’s with me.”
If only.
Izzy felt a momentary swoop of her stomach and then realised that he wasn’t being romantic or protective. He was simply telling
the truth. They’d driven up from Boston in the same car. His car. It was a statement of fact, that was all.
And thank goodness they had come together, Izzy thought. It gave her the excuse she needed to get out of here.
And then she caught a glimpse of something in the man’s eyes.
An emotion she recognised, and she realised in that moment that all he really wanted was company.
The reason he didn’t want her to leave wasn’t because he had nefarious intentions, but because he didn’t want to be alone.
All that money and a big empty house. But loneliness, she knew, burrowed inside you and chilled you from the inside out.
It had nothing to do with where you were living.
She thought about the day her life had changed shape. The day she’d experienced the true meaning of loneliness. Her father
had married her stepmother and from the moment they’d said “I do,” Izzy had found herself pushed out of a space where once
she’d belonged. She’d had no idea a person could be fired from their own family, but that was how it had felt. There was no
place for her in the new world they’d created for themselves. All she was to her father was a reminder of bad times. I can’t look at you without thinking of your mother.
Thinking back, she realised that in all the many visits she’d made to this client, the place had either been empty, or he’d
been alone. Normally when she staged a house, she had to remove a myriad of personal items. In this house there had been very
few personal items. No photographs, no memorabilia, nothing to suggest this man had a life outside his work. Instead of decluttering,
her role had been to inject warmth into a living space that was startlingly sterile.
Maybe that was the reason he now liked the place. She’d turned his huge, silent mausoleum of a house into an inviting home.
There were even photographs, chosen by her. Prospective buyers would look at those photographs and picture themselves raising
a family here, celebrating with friends and enjoying all the outdoors had to offer.
She felt a stab of sympathy, thinking of him alone here. When they walked out and closed that enormous front door of his behind
them, what would he do? Would he spend the holidays sitting in an echoey silence? Drink champagne by himself? She was so horrified
by the thought of it she almost offered to stay awhile and have that drink after all.
She wanted to say something comforting, but what could she say? She knew nothing about his personal circumstances other than the fact that he was wealthy.
She could feel her phone buzzing in the pocket of her jacket. She ignored it. It would be her boss, asking her how it was
going for the millionth time. It would have gone faster if she hadn’t kept having to stop and answer his calls.
“You’ve turned the place into a home.” The client took a slow look round his newly staged living room. “I was planning to
spend Christmas at my lodge in Aspen, but now I’m wondering if I might just stay here.”
Aspen? How was he planning to get to Aspen? The snow was piling up and at this rate they wouldn’t make it to the end of his
drive.
Unless she started her journey in the next few minutes, they’d all be spending Christmas here. And although she sympathised
with the man, her sympathy didn’t extend to spending the holidays with him, snowed in. She’d definitely kill him, and presumably
a dead body wasn’t what Santa wanted to find waiting for him when he squeezed himself down the chimney.
Her phone buzzed again. She kept her focus on the client. “I’m happy you’re happy. And hopefully now the buyer will be better
able to picture themselves living here.”
“It’s going to make all the difference. Maybe we should even be raising the asking price.” He turned to Jason. “Did you get
good shots?”
Izzy winced. It wasn’t the question to ask Jason, who was considered one of the best photographers in the business.
Still, she took advantage of the brief interlude to finally check her phone.
She had fourteen messages.
One was from Chloe, her closest friend who also happened to be her colleague.
You’ve seen the severe weather warning? I hope you’ve already left, but if you haven’t get on the road right now or you’ll be spending Christmas with that creep.
And also from her boss, Howard.
Is he happy? I’d like an update before I leave the office. I’m counting on you to bring this home.
She managed not to roll her eyes. Good to know her boss was concerned for her welfare. Not.
There was a message on the whole company messaging loop.
Christmas drinks cancelled because of the weather. We’ll do something in January.
Thank goodness for that, Izzy thought. The last thing she’d wanted to do was stand around making stilted conversation over cheap fizz or disgusting
egg-nogg with Howard and the rest of the senior leadership team.
She messaged Howard first. Just finishing up here. Will call from the car. All good!
Then she replied to the work loop. Such a shame! Happy Holidays to all.
She grinned as she sent it, well able to imagine Chloe’s expression as she read it.
Chloe messaged her back immediately. Shame? I’m celebrating. How is sexy Jason? Is he making you reconsider dating again after that cheat Darren. Why do you always
pick guys who are so obviously wrong for you?
That was far too complicated a question to be answered in a message.
She wasn’t good at relationships and it was her fault. She knew it was her fault. Darren’s words still echoed in her head. You’re not capable of commitment. You broke my heart, Izzy. I wish I’d never met you.
Those words had settled inside her. Yes, he was the one who had cheated but she’d hurt him, and she didn’t want to risk hurting
anyone else. She definitely wasn’t going to inflict herself on Jason.
She’d given up on relationships for the time being, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fantasise.
Checking quickly that Jason was still in conversation with their client, Izzy replied. Jason still sexy last time I looked—which was five seconds ago. With luck we’ll be caught in a snowdrift on the way home and
he’ll be forced to warm my naked body with his. Or maybe not. He’s so hot he’d probably melt all the snow.
She wasn’t serious of course. Jason seemed like an all-around good guy. He was the sort who did everything well, and that
probably included relationships. He didn’t need someone like her messing up his life.
She pressed Send on the message.
Jason’s phone buzzed and she saw him reach for it at the same moment Chloe messaged her back.
You sent that last message to the whole group! Delete! Delete!
What? No, surely not. That couldn’t be right.
Her heart rate accelerated. Panic made her hands slippery on the phone and it took her a few precious seconds to see that
she had indeed sent that message to the whole work loop rather than Chloe as intended.
No, no no!
Face burning, she hit “delete for everyone” and hoped that most people were too busy navigating their way home in a snowstorm to read their messages.
But what if someone had read it? What if Jason had read it? He’d definitely looked at his phone, but he could have been reading
the messages about Christmas drinks.
Please let him have been reading the messages about Christmas drinks.
Turning away to hide her flaming face, she packed the last of her bags and then sneaked a glance at him.
“Happy Holidays,” he said to the client. “We should get on the road, or we’ll be stuck in a snowdrift.”
Stuck in a snowdrift?
Was that phrase a coincidence or was he subtly letting her know he’d read the message that wasn’t intended for him?
She suppressed a whimper and for a moment wished she’d brought her own car. But she hadn’t, which meant she was going to be
trapped with Jason for the whole drive back to Boston. Which, in this weather, could take a while.
Awkward didn’t begin to describe it.
This was all her boss’s fault. If he hadn’t insisted on her taking this trip to the client’s house, she wouldn’t be in this
situation. She’d be at home, safe and warm and unpacking boxes in an attempt to make her place look vaguely inhabitable. She’d
be decorating her houseplant and watching Christmas movies and trying not to compare those happy, smiling people and their
perfect candy cane life with her soulless, Santa-free existence.
Still, at least the roads would be empty for their journey.
No one else would be mad enough to be travelling in this weather.
Copyright ? 2026 by Sarah Morgan