1
KATHRYN
I hate Christmas.
The lights, the colors, the same obnoxious songs—even the food. Call me Scrooge, I really don’t give a damn.
But the thing Ireallydespise about Christmas is how it gets in the way of my work.
I’m thirty-one. Youngest female CEO in America, and I didn’t get to where I am today by taking time off. Which is all my employees want this time of year.
They want to go home to be with family so they can unwrap gifts, sing Christmas carols, walk around their neighborhood, and admire the lights.
I don’t have a family. So none of that is an option for me.
Mom died just before I got into Harvard, and Dad died just before I graduated. Ironic, isn’t it?
They’re who I did it for.
All the studying, the late nights, guzzling coffee to keep myself awake. It was all for their approval. And they weren’t even around to see my success.
So when I look out the glass of my office at the office Christmas party, I don’t feel warm and fuzzy like they all do, I just feel…alone.
“Kathryn?” Francesca, my current assistant, knocks cautiously at the door. “I have those papers for you to sign.”
“Bring them in,” I tell her.
My business is an e-commerce business I founded three years ago. Most startups fail within the first few years, but my company is now valued at around 1.2 billion.
She hands me my Montblanc fountain pen. I see she found the red one to go along with the theme of the holiday.
I take it from her and am just about to sign when something over her shoulder catches my eye.
There, smiling beside the Christmas tree, is a man I’ve never seen before.
He’s tall—at least six feet—and although he’s wearing a work shirt and tie, it’s obvious he works out.
Something about him takes my breath away. My heart skips a beat, and it’s like the world goes into slow motion as I stare.
He’s not traditionally good-looking. Not movie star material. But my body instantly warms as my eyes scour his face.
Nothing but sharp lines—a powerful jaw, high cheek bones, and lips any girl would kill to kiss. And his hands…
Big and strong, with thick fingers that look like he could palm a basketball. I realize my skin is tingling and I’m starting to sweat.
Jesus, what is happening to me?
I’ve never had the time or the desire for men. In fact, I’ve started to wonder if I’m actually asexual. But right now, I can only think of one thing…
Him.
“Who is that?” I ask Francesca, pointing discretely in his direction.
She looks back. “Who?”
“Him, right there!” My voice is raised. I’m practically shaking. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “The man standing by the tree.”
“Oh, that’s our new intern, Blake Koch.”
