Chapter 10
TEN
Avery
I’d just sat down in Jim’s office, scrolling on my phone while waiting for him to finish up an email. I still couldn’t believe this man wanted to plan a Christmas event after he practically made choosing cheeseboards for Christmas seem exhausting.
“Now, that’s all finished,” he said, closing down his computer, “we can go to lunch.” He smirked. “Then I will explain how I’m planning my own company party this year.”
My lips twitched. Bless this man’s heart.
“Charcuterie boards and champagne. That was your first planning fail for the holidays this year.” I folded my arms, staring Jim down like he’d just suggested we cancel Christmas and replace it with dental cleanings.
“And now, you want to suddenly plan Christmas on your own? I don’t think so. ”
Jim leaned back in his chair, too comfortably, and the smirk on his face said he knew exactly how much this would piss me off. “There was nothing wrong with that. The idea was efficient, chic, and modern. People don’t need balls and bonuses. Food is always the way to everyone’s hearts.”
“I’m not going to let you die on that hill, Mr. Grinch,” I repeated, blinking at him. “We’re not getting into the cheese tray argument again. I’m hiring the planner. Done.”
“You do that,” he offered too easily, “That way we can and will settle all of this this…the Mitchell family way,” he arched an eyebrow at me.
“Really?” I sat up in my seat across from where he sat behind his desk.
“Because every Mitchell family way of settling on the holidays usually ends up with Jake shitting his brains out in the woods, and then, of course, you in a sleigh, breaking down in the middle of nowhere in the Alps, almost missing out on Christmas entirely.”
“Technicalities, my darling,” he taunted, looking sexier than hell, leaning back in his office chair. “Jake and I were merely settling the score for all the pranks he’s pulled on my ass over the years.”
“And what’s this?”
“Me, having a little fun over the holidays with my wife. Learning who will throw the best party and bring in the holiday cheer.”
“It’s you trying to personally save your ass from looking like a greedy billionaire before allowing me to.”
“Perhaps,” he said, standing. “Now, since you came here to go to lunch with me, let’s do so. I’m starved, and we have business to discuss, Mrs. Mitchell.”
“There’s really nothing to discuss,” I grabbed my purse, following him.
“Oh, there is. Like, perhaps the little detail of why my wife is planning on turning the Huntington Gardens into the North Pole, which is exactly what you and Cat are plotting. Admit it.”
I gasped. “Did Izzy betray me?”
“Little traitor cracked under ice cream interrogation,” he said proudly.
I pointed at him. “You manipulated our daughter with fudge brownie ice cream?”
“Manipulated?” he feigned offense as we stepped into the elevator. “It was a strategy. You’re not the only one who knows how to run a campaign.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Fine. If you want a holiday war, Mitchell family style, then you’ve got one.”
He arched a brow. “Good. The girls are already on my team.”
“You brought the girls into this?” I asked.
He shrugged and nodded. “I needed their creative minds in order to give my planner the proper direction for the perfect Christmas Extravaganza.”
“I can’t compete against my own children.”
“Neither could I,” he winked and kissed me on the cheek. “So, you probably should’ve thought of that before you planned with Cat and possibly all the wives, to form a holiday coup and takeover my company this year.”
“Our girls are really okay with losing? I don’t think so,” I said. “You’re bluffing.”
He smirked, and I knew I was screwed. “Allow me to increase the budgets for the holidays this year, offer the usual bonuses, and we’ll end it all here.”
I arched an eyebrow. “That’s your one play to get out of this?”
“No,” and for the first time, he seemed taken off a beat.
“We’ll go over terms and details later, love,” I said, looping my hand through his arm and proceeding to walk through the grand lobby of Mitchell and Associates’ tower with my husband.
“Hey, Cat,” I said after my newest friend and Christmas-war crime partner picked up my call.
“Hey, Av,” she answered. “Let me guess, we’re changing the corporate yacht into a snow globe over the Pacific while fireworks light up the Los Angeles skyline?”
I chuckled, recalling how I had thrown every impossible Christmas idea at the woman and wondering if she thought I was like the rest of the billionaires’ wives out there, using her extreme talents for social status as well.
“Could it be done, though?” I just had to ask.
“Anything can be done, sweetie,” she laughed. “Ice skating rinks on the deck, a crystal dome blanketing the entire vessel, ice sculptures—”
“I’m so happy Nat introduced us,” I smiled, stepping into the Rover. “Well, it’s not turning a floating boat into a snow globe, but I am calling to change up how we’re going to work all of this.”
“I’m all ears,” she said. “Do you want to meet in my office, or go over the details over the phone?”
“Depends on where you are. I’m getting ready to head to Ash’s office to meet for afternoon coffee. There’s a cute bakery nearby where we usually go to take a break or unwind. It’s in Malibu.”
“I’ll be there in twenty. Text me the name of the place, and we’ll start planning as soon as I arrive.”
“What can I order for you?”
“Spiced cider sounds intoxicating right now,” she said. “I’ll see you there.”
I hit the group chat before starting the car, added Cat, and notified anyone available to join us because plans had changed after Jim suddenly decided to go to war.
The bell jingled as we stepped into Velvet Crumb, and fall practically smacked me in the face.
Cinnamon, nutmeg, pumpkin spice—it was like inhaling a cozy sweater.
Garlands and velvet pumpkins lined the shelves, caramel and maple gleamed from the pastry case, and for one blissful second, I forgot I was at war with my husband.
“Girls!” Marquee called from behind the counter, her big, brown eyes sparkling and curly brown hair forming the perfect, messy bun. “You’re just in time. First batch of cinnamon-pumpkin rolls just came out.”
Nat leaned in with a wicked grin. “Marquee, those things nearly gave me more pleasure than an orgasm last time.”
Marquee snorted. “If only I could get you to write that as a review, I’d double my business overnight.”
“Business is already booming,” Nat shot back. “I tell everyone I know.”
“And that,” I cut in, eyeing the full café, “is probably why we don’t have a table.”
“Not a problem.” Marquee tipped her head toward the patio. “Just finished a remodel—awning, pumpkins, ocean view. It’s all yours.”
Before I could answer, Cat’s voice floated in behind us. “Afternoon, Marquee. Your desserts were perfect for the Halloween benefit. Thank you again.”
“My pleasure,” Marquee said warmly.
I chewed my lip, realizing Cat was already familiar with this bakery, and then asked the question I shouldn’t: “Marquee, you do big events, too?”
“Of course. Worked with the University culinary team, baked for thousands. Why?”
Nat’s eyes lit up. “Because we need her for the Winter Extravaganza.”
“Booked already,” Marquee said, scrolling her iPad. “First week of December, Master’s Ball. Second week, Crocker Gala.”
“Perfect,” I said too fast. “That leaves—”
Her smile faltered. “Actually, the third week was just taken this morning.”
“Damn it,” I muttered.
“By whom?” Cat asked.
Marquee hesitated, then looked at me. “Mitchell and Associates.”
I froze. Jim. That smug, cheese-tray-pushing man had beaten me here.
I pasted on a smile. “Of course. How… thoughtful of him.”
Cat’s brows shot up. “I’m not sure I’m following.”
Laney swooped in, stopping me from saying anymore. “Let’s order all of our yummy food and coffees and let Avery fill us in outside.”
We loaded up—ciders, lattes, a mountain of pumpkin rolls—and followed Marquee’s direction toward the patio she’d just remodeled.
The awning stretched overhead in crisp white canvas, twinkle lights strung across beams, with pumpkins and gourds spilling out of rustic baskets around every corner.
Beyond the railing, the Pacific shimmered blissfully.
I should’ve been calm. Instead, I was buzzing with sugar, caffeine, and the need to throttle my husband.
Once everyone settled in, I tore a piece from a cinnamon roll and sighed because damn—Nat wasn’t wrong, those things were sinful.
“So, here’s the thing,” I said, eyes darting to Cat.
“The other night, I busted Jim’s ass for being a cheap scrooge on Christmas, and somehow, he and Izzy have ended up turning this into a competition.
By this afternoon, my previously sulking husband began to look like the transformed Grinch who wanted to give back Christmas. ”
Ash groaned, rubbing her forehead. “Don’t tell me…”
“Yep.” I chewed, swallowed, and braced myself. “Jim’s the one who booked Marquee, not me.”
Nat let out an evil laugh. “Ohhh, this just got interesting.”
“And it gets better,” I added. “To use my husband’s words, this is a Mitchell family holiday planning war.”
“Oh, shit,” Nat said, eyes gleaming. “Are the men involved?”
“Not that I know of yet.” I sighed. “Right now, he’s just manipulated our daughters into his little spy ring.”
“Jesus,” Laney muttered with a laugh, glancing at Cat. “Fair warning—when these guys get involved in the holidays, it turns into a saga. You probably shouldn’t judge us by what happens next.”
Cat didn’t look the least bit intimidated. If anything, her smile said she was ready for blood. “Honey, this is exactly the kind of challenge in planning these grand-scale events that I live for.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Nat warned with mock-seriousness. “Last time, it was a disaster story we’re still talking about.”
“Why can’t we ever have a normal holiday season?” Ash groaned. “If the men aren’t on Jim’s side now, they will be soon.”
“No complaining. You know what you married into.” I stabbed my fork into a chunk of cinnamon roll and pointed it toward Cat.
“And that’s exactly why we have Cat. We’re competing for the best holiday event.
I want private jets flying in associates from all his global offices.
I want every employee there that is able to make it, there.
And for God’s sake, don’t breathe a word in front of the girls. They’re already reporting back to him.”
“And Huntington Gardens is out,” I informed Cat. “He already knows about it.”
Cat nodded. “No problem. I’ll find us a bigger, better venue. We’ll crush him.”
Nat clapped. “That’s the holiday spirit.”
Laney groaned into her latte. “Just please don’t judge us, Cat. If my husband gets his way, every single male employee ends up with a life-sized nutcracker.”
Cat smirked. “Let them prank. We’ll win with class. If the men want carnival, we’ll create a Winter Wonderland with hotels, parties, and a night no one forgets.”
“You really think you can pull this off?” I asked.
Her dark eyes gleamed. “Darling, this is what I do. I’ll even arrange for Marquee to cater, if that’s your wish.”
I hesitated. “I don’t want to overwork her.”
“Not to worry,” Cat said. “I’ll bring in pastry chefs and a full team to support her.”
Nat winked at me. “That’s the voice of a champion.”
“Also,” I looked at Cat, “Jim and I are very much about helping those in need. Anything or anyone hired, we both would actually like our events contributing toward their growth for their businesses.”
“Beautiful approach,” she answered.
“Thanks,” I smiled, “I know there are a lot of businesses out there struggling and so does Jim, so his approach has always been with any expenses for his company parties is to give them a boost financially. Jim has actually helped expand many small businesses this way.”
“Consider it noted and done,” Cat said, “A perfect way to not just throw money around and create grand events. I’m looking forward to seeing the smiles on many independent contractor’s faces when I hire them.”
I grinned, adrenaline buzzing. “Then it’s official, ladies. Christmas planning has officially begun.”
Suddenly, I wasn’t dreading Jim’s little stunt anymore.
I was excited. This would be fun, this would be festive, and somehow, it was the perfect way for all of us to come together, even if it were through some silly competitions to give everyone under the Mitchell and Associates’ umbrella the best Christmas event they’d ever attended.