Chapter 5
HOLLY
Through my office window, I can see the white snow falling heavily, the darkened sky barely visible.
I’ve been so locked in to what I’m doing, I didn’t realize it was getting late. It’s the end of the week, so I needed to get things done and sorted before going home for the weekend.
Wait, it’s Friday.
The Christmas party.
Shit.
I need to scoot out of here quickly, before anyone tries to convince me to stay and enjoy…festivities. Just the thought sends shivers down my spine.
Grabbing my coat, I throw it on over my blazer. I sling my purse over my shoulder and begin to make my way out of my office.
Music floats through the air in the distance, and if it were anything but Christmas music, I wouldn’t mind. But it is, meaning their party has started.
Damn it. I wanted to be out of here before they got going, but I lost track of time.
As I make my way through the main office space, I squint at the sight of all the tinsel strung about. There are mini-Christmas trees throughout, and ornaments hanging from any available spot in the room.
I give my employees tight-lipped smiles as I make my way past, not stopping to give any of them a chance to say anything.
That is, until Joy spots me. Her eyes widen and she approaches me with a smile. “I didn’t know you were still here, boss.”
“Lost track of time, but I’m on my way now.” My feet don’t stop beneath me, but Joy still walks alongside me.
Just as we reach the door, Joy says, “Boss, the roads are closed until the plows can come by.”
She has to be joking. There’s no way the roads are closed. The odds would just be…it’s impossible. I’m not stuck here.
I open the door, and instantly my hair is blown back from the strong winds, snow coating my face.
“I can walk,” I tell her, though I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself.
Her voice is pleading from behind me. “Come on, boss. You’ll freeze. Just wait it out, and hey…maybe enjoy the party a little bit?”
Reluctantly, I close the door, wiping the snowflakes from my face. Enjoy the party? I thought after all these years, Joy would know just how much I despise Christmas, and everything related.
Turning to face her again, I don’t try to hide my frown. “Fine. I’ll wait. But I won’t enjoy it, I can assure you.”
“Just pretend it’s not a Christmas party.” She gives me a forced smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
I take off my coat, hanging it on the nearly full coatrack by the door. This is the worst. Stuck at a Christmas party? What did I do to deserve this torture?
Following a few steps behind Joy, we return to the party. Everyone in the office is mingling, chatting, and exchanging smiles with drinks in hand.
As a few notice me, their eyes flicker wide and their mouth gape. The reactions are quickly hidden and replaced by smiles—smiles I don’t need or want.
I know they don’t want me here, and I’m sure they know I don’t want to be here.
From the break room, I hear cheering and laughter. That must be where the drinks are, and if I’m going to be stuck here for God knows how long, I’ll need one.
Or two.
Or five.
Hell, if I’m stuck here too long, I’ll need to call an Uber home. Then I’ll get a nice walk in tomorrow to retrieve my car.
When I enter the break room, I see what everyone is hooting and hollering over—strippers.
Joy got strippers for the company Christmas party.
Well, it’s definitely going to be easier to pretend that this isn’t a Christmas party now that I see the entertainment. Particularly, one of the…five strippers, catches my eye.
A tall, muscular man with warm, pale skin. From here, I can see his vibrant, unusual eyes—almost a citrine color.
The part that’s the turnoff? The Santa suit he wears.
I don’t care that it’s open to show off his chiseled chest, like you’d see in the movies, or lower, the deep V that’s droolworthy. All of that is wiped away by the red-and-white suit he has on.
His eyes catch mine staring at him, and beneath his Santa hat, there’s movement. His hair is bright green—no, wait, his hair is snakes.
He must be a gorgon. There’s no other monster I can think of with snakes for hair. That explains the unusual eyes.
He makes his way over to where I stand, towering over me even from a few feet away. “Late to the party?”
“It’s unfortunate I’m even here.” I cross my arms. “Where are the drinks?”
He points behind him, and I brush past him—my sneaky way of feeling the arms hidden by his horrendous costume.
“Unfortunate? I was thinking the opposite,” he says as I practically bounce off of him, his arms hard as rock beneath the velvet coat.
Maybe if he takes that damn thing off, I’ll be able to appreciate his physique better. Also, is he flirting with me? Unlikely. He’s here to make money. If I get a lap dance or watch him perform, he’ll expect payment. Which is fair, it is his work—but I refuse to spend money at a Christmas event.
I pour myself a drink, taking a sip before I turn to face him. Instead of keeping my stoic expression though, I grimace as the taste of the drink hits my tongue.
It’s minty yet sweet—like a fucking candy cane.
Despite every urge to spit the liquid back into the cup, I force myself to swallow it. I don’t want to be that gross in front of this sexy stripper…but is he worth consuming a Christmas beverage?
“Don’t like the drink?” he asks, letting out a chuckle that I feel run through my entire body.
I shake my head, glancing down at the cup before bringing my gaze back up to his. “It tastes like candy cane.”
He nods, grinning. “That’s the point, it’s festive.”
“It’s disgusting,” I say, blinking at him.
My comment doesn’t seem to faze him, though. To my shock, he takes the cup from my hand, the action stunning me to the point of being frozen in place.
What is he…?
He dumps it out before tossing the cup away. I open my mouth to snap at him for just taking my drink from me, but I stop when I see him grab a fresh cup.
I take control of my legs and follow him to the counter where all the liquors and mixers are. He begins to pour an array of things into the cup, using a coffee stir stick to swirl it together.
When he’s done, he turns, holding it out to me. “Try this.”
Narrowing my eyes, I take it slowly. Heat travels through my fingertips as they brush his, and our eyes flick to meet each other’s.
Bringing the cup to my lips, I hold his gaze as I take a sip. This tastes much better than the last monstrosity—and I’ll admit, I’m surprised.
It’s a creamier drink than the last, its sweet richness flowing easily across my tongue. There are hints of vanilla, mixed with what I think is Baileys.
“This is good—what is it?” I ask before taking another sip.
He grins at me, giving me a wink. “It’s a sugar cookie martini. It has Baileys, vanilla vodka, amaretto, and a bit of milk.”
Sugar cookie? That’s…still festive. Though, I suppose I can maybe tolerate it. Only because it tastes so good, and sugar cookies are a year-round treat—unlike gingerbread, or candy canes.
Still, it’s a bit strange of a combination—specifically, the addition of milk. He’s clearly onto something.
“Well, thank you.” I move to take a step past him, but he tilts his head, his snakes all slowly looking at me as they let out small hisses.
Freezing in place, I can’t help but examine them. It’s slightly unsettling, but also intriguing. What are they, or he, thinking that makes their attention lock onto me?
“You don’t want to stay a while? Watch the show, maybe get a dance?” He winks again.
I raise a brow at him. “Are you that desperate for tips you need to beg to give someone a dance?”
“No.” He shakes his head, giving me a sultry smile that causes a flutter between the legs. “I want to give you a dance.”
As much as I don’t want it to, the comment makes the fluttering stick around, heat building between my legs—and in my face. God, I am not blushing over someone in a Santa suit.
But if I look past the suit…
No, I need to stop. The Christmas music must be making me sick in the head. Or maybe it’s just his face making me forget about all the reasons I hate Christmas.
“Are you offering me a complimentary dance…” I go to say his name, but realize I don’t know it. I could only refer to him as Santa or snake head, and neither of those appeals.
He grins at me, and I notice his has two particularly sharp teeth, similar to snake fangs. “Felix—and absolutely I am.”
Well, it might help make time go by quicker while I wait for the roads to be plowed. But that’s the only reason I would even consider accepting.
“Are these dances private?” I lower my voice as I ask. The last thing I need is my employees seeing an unprofessional side of me.
His head tilts as he shakes it. “I’m a stripper, not a prostitute.”
For the first time in…well, a while, my cheeks get warm. I was not insinuating we go hook up somewhere.
If we’re going to hook up, like hell it’s going to be at my workplace. He can just come back to my place.
And that sounds like a reward to myself for being stuck in this excessively decorated, overly cheery place.