Snow Job

prologue

Christmas Eve

Fallon

Entering the ominous, pitch-black mansion sends an unsettling chill racing down my spine, leaving a cascade of tingles in its wake. Yet, as a consummate professional, I force a smile and stride purposefully toward the kitchen.

The walls and floors are draped in shades of black, white, and blood-red, and an oppressive aura of death envelops me as I traverse the long, twisting hallway with Eliza and Brady trailing behind, following the rest of my team as we prepare for the party.

There’s not a hint of Christmas cheer in sight. You wouldn’t even realize it was Christmas Eve if it weren’t for tonight’s gathering—it feels more like a scene from a twisted version of The Nightmare Before Christmas than a festive celebration.

"This place is stunning," Eliza whispers, her wide eyes glancing around in awe.

"Stunning isn't the word I'd use; how about creepy?" I respond, keeping my smile intact while stifling a shiver as we pass a brightly lit glass cabinet, its interior lined with urns containing the ashes of long-departed ancestors.

Ancient weapons—mostly guns and razor-sharp daggers—grace the walls, either prized showpieces or sinister reminders of past victories; I can’t tell which, nor do I wish to find out. The rumors that swirl around this mansion spread faster than a California wildfire.

I simply want to set everything up for the party, collect the rest of my payment, and get the fuck out of here.

As I venture deeper into the hall, the images of deceased mob leaders seem to leer at me, their sharp, predatory gazes following me as I approach the kitchen.

How I ended up on the radar of New York's most feared and dangerous man is beyond me, yet here I am, about to cater a Christmas party for him and other powerful figures—men and women—on Christmas Eve, no less.

With half my staff tending to the entrees and the other half focused on decorations and drinks, I wander about to ensure everything runs smoothly while adding finishing touches where needed.

Just then, my brother rushes in, panic etched on his face. "Fallon, have you seen Nina?"

"Um, yeah. I saw her walking down the hall on her phone. But can you not worry about her right now, Brady? We have an hour left until Mr. Foley's guests arrive, and we still have things to finish."

As he ignores my words, I meticulously arrange the Christmas centerpieces, ensuring that every single one mirrors the other, feeling my OCD kick into high gear.

“I need to talk to her, Fallon. It’ll only take a second.” Anxiety coursing through him, Brady runs a hand through his icy blue tousled hair.

“Please go to the back room and bring me another stack of the green cloth napkins first.” I gesture toward the tables, noting how half of them lack adequate napkins.

In a huff, he spins on his heel, retreating in the direction Nina went, completely disregarding me. Fantastic. I don’t have time for drama today; this party has me stressed enough as it is.

Marching toward the back room to fetch the napkins myself, I round the corner, pushing open the door with a firm shove, only to collide with a strikingly handsome man, his muscular form encased in a perfectly tailored black suit, and his feet snug in shiny black shoes I can see my reflection in. Holy hell. It’s him…

His intense gaze pierces through me like daggers, and the seemingly calm smile on his face belies the murderous flicker in his eyes as he holds the door open, waiting for me to step inside.

"I’m so sorry for hitting you with the door, Mr—"

"Foley. Evander Foley." His wicked grin sends shivers down my spine as I enter the room to grab the napkins, the lump in my throat nearly choking me.

"I know who you are, Mr. Foley. Everyone does." I brush past him while a shiver races down my body, tainted by the sharp scent of blood and cigarette smoke that wafts under my nose.

"I’ll take that as a compliment," he replies smoothly, shifting slightly to follow my every move. "And who might you be? I've never seen you here before," he asks, eyebrow raised intriguingly, looking even more alluring as he does.

Control yourself, Fallon; he’s bad news.

“I’m Fallon, the event manager. It’s my company you hired for your Christmas party tonight.” I exhale, relieved, as I reach for the napkins, eager to escape his presence.

He may be drop-dead gorgeous and every inch what a woman could desire, but he’s mafia—no good comes from that, regardless of how tempting he might be.

“I’ve actually been looking for you. I wanted to say it’s looking… festive out there. You’ve outdone yourself, Fallon,” he says, his voice shifting to a sweet, sensual tone that makes my knees weak as I navigate toward the door. Damn it. I really don’t want to pass him again, but I have no choice.

“Thank you, Mr—” I start, but he stops me with an outstretched arm, clutching the napkins tight against my chest as I try to mask my unease with a smile.

“Just Evander, please. Leave the ‘Mr. Foley’ behind.”

“Of course.” He drops his arm, but my feet remain rooted to the marble floor, anxiety gripping me as I maintain my forced smile.

“As I was saying, Evander, we’re just doing our jobs.

I’m glad you’re pleased with the setup.” I hold up the napkins, waving them slightly to keep up the charade.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to get these out there and wrap up a few things before your guests arrive. ”

“By all means… don’t let me keep you.” His smile falters, morphing into a sly smirk as his dark gaze follows my every step toward the door.

“Oh, and Fallon, come find me at the end of the party if I haven’t found you yet for the rest of your payment. My office is at the end of the hall on the first floor,” he says, his voice deep and calculated, sending more chills down my spine.

Something about it freezes my blood, but he is mafia; that explains it. "I will. Thank you, Evander. I hope you enjoy the party." I offer a fake smile, praying it’s convincing enough.

“Oh, I will.” He licks his lips, casting one last predatory glance my way before I slip out of the room.

A Few Hours Later

With the party underway and everyone enjoying themselves, Eliza and I stand in our designated dresses at the back of the grand hall, observing and ensuring everything flows smoothly.

Brady and his girlfriend are in the midst of an argument—an everyday occurrence since she’s pregnant—so we’ve learned to tune it out.

Staff members scurry about, refilling champagne flutes and topping off spiked eggnog, while the sounds of Christmas music waft joyously through the surround sound speakers as the band performs another set on the stunning hand-crafted stage.

Everything looks perfect, and I can’t help but smile, mentally patting myself on the back for another job well done.

“Let’s go get a drink, Fallon. I think we deserve one after this,” Eliza suggests, tugging my arm toward one of the bars stationed at the side of the room.

“Yeah, you’re right. This has turned out even better than I expected.”

I order a holiday-themed candy cane martini and take a seat at the bar, just as my brother rushes through the doors, looking frantic.

Ugh, what now? I gulp down my drink, finishing it off in just a couple of sips, and slide the empty glass back to the bartender for a refill, craving a slight buzz to brace myself for another round of his complaints.

“What’s wrong now, Brady?” I inquire, irritation creeping into my voice.

"Where's Nina, Fallon?" he asks, his voice tinged with worry.

"I don't know. The last I saw her, she was with you," I point out, enjoying the minty aftertaste of my drink.

"Yeah, she was with me, but then she got mad and disappeared. I've searched everywhere!" He hangs his head, squeezing his bloodshot eyes shut. "She's here somewhere. Maybe she just needs some space."

He raises his head, looking at me with those sad puppy dog eyes that make it hard to resist. "What? You want me to go look for her, don’t you?"

"Could you, please? I’ll stay here with Eliza and make sure the party runs smoothly."

I tip my glass, draining the last of my drink. “Fine. I have to get the check from Foley, anyway.” I roll my eyes, shaking my head in exasperation.

“Have I ever told you you’re the best sister in the world?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind in a tight hug.

“Yeah, yeah. I'll be back. Just make sure my party doesn’t fall apart, Brady, or I swear…” I say quietly, glancing around to ensure no one hears, but he knows I’m serious. "I'll fuck you up, and you know I'm not playing."

Noticing the coasters on the bar are crooked, I straighten them into a perfect line as I get up. Brady shakes his head, letting out a scoff as he downs a shot.

“Fallon, control your crazy,” he laughs, waving me off.

Finally escaping the party’s buzz, I remember exactly where Foley’s office is and apprehensively head that way, holding my breath the entire way.

I’m not sure why this man intimidates me so deeply, but if it weren’t for the fact that he stil fucking owes me a couple grand, I’d be out of here without a second thought; that’s a significant amount of money.

Standing before the imposing black door, I raise my arm and gently knock, hoping he’ll hear me—and he does.

“Come in,” he calls from the other side.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and push the door open. Maintaining a professional smile, I step inside, closing the door behind me and approaching his desk. He stands up, rounding his desk, waving the check mockingly, almost taunting me.

"I take it you're here for this?" he smirks, a wicked grin on his face that matches the nefarious atmosphere of his mansion, sending shivers through me.

“Yes, Evander, I am.” I reach for the check, but just as my fingertips brush against the paper, he snatches it away, gripping my wrist tightly and pulling me against him. The overwhelming scent of cigar smoke and rum fills my senses, sending a delightful tingle through me.

“There’s one more thing I need from you, Fallon,” he murmurs, his eyes darkening with a dangerous gleam as they flick down to my chest, which is spilling enticingly from my dress.

I cringe, my heart pounding in my ears as a lump forms in my throat.

“And what would that be?” I ask, attempting to free my wrist from his grasp, but he only grips it tighter, drawing me even closer.

“Let go of me,” I demand, glaring at him, but all he does is chuckle, a smirk playing on his lips as he licks them, his gaze fixed on my breasts.

“You know who I am, don’t you, Fallon?”

In a swift, ruthless motion, he hoists me over his shoulder, my hands pounding against his back in protest. “Put me down!” I shout.

“Answer the damned question.” I feel his hand slide beneath me, gripping my ass and kneading it like dough, sending tremors spiraling through my body.

“Yes, I know who you are!” I scream, continuing to hit his back, desperate for him to set me down, but to no avail.

“Good, because if you know who I am, then you know that I always get what I want, right, Fallon?” The way he says my name drips with menace, a clear indication he means business.

Sliding his hand up my dress, he grips the waistband of my underwear between his fingers and yanks it down roughly, tearing the delicate fabric from my body and carelessly tossing it aside.

“In case I wasn’t clear enough, it’s you that I want, Fallon.”

He drops me onto the sleek black leather couch, leaning over me, tucking the check I initially sought into my cleavage as he positions himself atop me.

His hand finds my throat, holding me in place with a grip that instills a fear unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, causing my struggles to falter.

“Good girl. This will be much easier if you don’t fight, but I won't mind if you do. I like feisty women.” The sound of his belt unbuckling makes me cringe, and I quickly squeeze my eyes shut, praying for this nightmare to end soon.

“Open your eyes, Fallon. I want you to watch everything I’m going to do to you tonight.”

My eyes snap open as his hands tighten around my throat, almost choking me. In that moment, I wish he would simply end it all…