I take off my coat, hanging it on the nearly full coatrack by the door. This is the worst. Stuck at aChristmasparty? 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 gotstrippersfor 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…fivestrippers, 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’tcarethat 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 issnakes.
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 Irefuseto 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 afuckingcandy cane.
Despite every urge to spit the liquid back into the cup, I force myself to swallow it. I don’t want to bethatgross 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…?
