"What? He's gorgeous, rich, and clearly obsessed with you. There are worse problems to have."
I turn away, restacking a pile of gift boxes that doesn't need restacking. "Men like that don't get 'obsessed' with women like me. We're not in the same league. Not even playing the same sport."
"You really don't see yourself clearly, do you?" Lily sounds genuinely perplexed. "Sophie, you're beautiful, talented, kind. Any man would be lucky to have you."
"Christian Hawthorne doesn't want to 'have' me," I insist, though even as I say it, I remember the intensity in his eyes when he stood too close in my shop. The way his voice dropped when he said, _"Because I want you there."_
"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Lily checks her watch. "Speaking of which, it's already two. Don't you need to start getting ready soon?"
My stomach drops. "It's only two? The car doesn't come until seven!"
"And you need at least four hours to transform from shop girl to gala goddess. Go!" She makes shooing motions. "I'll close up. Do inventory. Whatever needs doing."
"But—"
"Sophie Winters, so help me, if you show up looking anything less than edible, I will never forgive you. Go home. Soak in a bubble bath. Shave everything. Twice."
"You're making this into something it's not," I protest, but I'm already untying my apron.
"And you're in denial deeper than the snow outside." She takes the apron from me and pushes me toward the back room. "Get the dress and go. Text me when you're ready so I can properly swoon."
I collect the dress and shoes, still arguing even as Lily practically shoves me out the back door. "Remember, this is just?—"
"Business. Right. Tell that to the butterflies currently doing the Nutcracker ballet in your stomach." She grins. "Have fun tonight, Soph. And maybe consider not coming home alone?"
"I hate you," I mutter, but there's no heat in it.
"Love you too. Now go get gorgeous for your billionaire."
"He's not my?—"
She closes the door in my face, leaving me standing in the alley behind my shop, clutching a three-thousand-dollar dress and wondering how my simple life got so complicated in the span of a week.
Because despite all my protests, despite all my insistence that this is just business...I can't deny the thrill that runs through me when I think about seeing Christian tonight. About his eyes on me in this dress. About his hand at the small of my back, guiding me through a room full of strangers.
It's just business, I tell myself again as I trudge up the stairs to my apartment.
But my thundering heartbeat knows better.
Chapter
Three
CHRISTIAN
My driver pullsthe Bentley to a stop outside Winter Wishes at precisely seven o'clock. I don't tolerate lateness—not in business, not in pleasure, and certainly not tonight. The shop is closed, dark except for lights spilling from windows on the second floor. Sophie's apartment. I check my watch, more from habit than necessity. I'm exactly on time, as always. Through the tinted windows, I watch flurries of snow dance in the glow of street lamps, coating Evergreen in pristine white. Appropriate backdrop for what I'm about to acquire.
"Wait here," I tell my driver, not waiting for acknowledgment before stepping out into the cold.
The side entrance leads to a narrow staircase—clean but worn, the banister smooth from years of hands sliding along its surface. Sophie's world. So different from mine. So…quaint. Her door is at the top, forest green with a brass knocker in the shape of a snowflake. Handmade, no doubt.
I rap three times, sharp and commanding. Inside, something crashes, followed by a muffled curse that makes the corner of my mouth twitch upward. She's nervous. Good.
The door swings open, and everything in me goes still.
Sophie Winters stands framed in the doorway, transformed from the shop girl in comfortable sweaters to something ethereal. The dress—emerald velvet that clings to curves I've only imagined until now—catches the light, making her skin glow like fine porcelain. Her honey-blonde hair falls in loose waves past her shoulders, and she's wearing just enough makeup to enhance features already perfect without it. She looks expensive, elegant…and still unmistakably herself. Still Sophie with her wide, wary eyes and the flush that spreads across her cheeks under my scrutiny.
My credit card was well spent.
