“Honestly,I don't know how Grant manages to function given that he has to haul around his massive fucking ego,” Walker slurred. He had snuck a huge container of the boozy eggnog out of the party and almost sloshed it on me as we got into my luxury sports car. I would also have bet good money Walker had Christmas cookies wrapped in a napkin snuffed in his pocket. My COO had a sweet tooth.
My only vice was fast cars. In my tower, I had a whole floor of them. Usually I was too busy to drive them, but sometimes, late at night, when the roads were clear, I would take them out, zipping down the long avenues or out into the countryside.
My COO pulled a Christmas cookie out of his coat pocket, showering me with crumbs. I sighed. “I'm already ready for Christmas to be over.”
“Buckle up, Blitzen, because we are just getting started!”
I dropped Walker off at his condo building then drove home to the Quantum Cyber tower. My offices were in two-thirds of the building; the rest of the floors contained one of Archer Svensson’s hotels. Several condos were also part of the hotel. I owned three of them.
I loved my penthouse. It occupied three stories, with a sick roof deck and a master suite that was bigger than most Manhattan apartments. So sue me. I liked nice things.
To combat all the sweetness from the holiday party, I opened the fridge and pulled out my Thanksgiving leftovers. One thing I would say for the Svenssons: they could throw a good Thanksgiving. Or rather, their girlfriends could. Corn-bread stuffing, deep-fried turkey, green bean casserole—I snacked on it as I went upstairs to the master suite.
Curious. The bathroom light was on. Usually I was particular about turning the lights off. Maybe the holidays were starting to mess with my brain.
The room was hot. I threw open all the French doors to the balcony. It was way too warm; I usually kept the penthouse just warm enough so the pipes wouldn’t freeze. I started to undress, stripping down to my boxer briefs, ready for an ice-cold shower. Cold water was better for one’s health. I hung my pants on a hanger that had been lying on the bed. Also curious. Usually I didn't leave the hangers strewn about the room. I was about to pull the boxer briefs down when I realized there was someone in the room with me.
3
Holly
Iwas huffing and puffing as I pushed the trolley into the private elevator lobby.
“Man, I need to cut down on the holiday treats!”
“Don't blame the holidays. You've been stress eating since March,” Morticia said. I stuck my tongue out at her.
“Not that it doesn't look good on you, though your Christmas mugs do runneth over,” she said, gesturing to my chest then helping me roll the trolley over the hardwood floors. “Gunnar Svensson, one of the show's producers, thinks people will love you. I really talked you and your baking boxes up to Penny. She wants to do a special for theVanity Rag. She's basically running things over there. Good thing, especially since Evan Harrington is a moron.”
“He's rich and handsome!”
“And engaged to a harpy.”
“This is the place where the contestants are staying?” I said in awe when we walked into the penthouse. It was huge!
“Vanity Ragdoing a web special on decking the penthouse halls,” Morticia explained as we went back to heaving the cart. “I need to buy decorations.”
I had a flash of an apocalyptic holiday scene—black snow, a burned tree, a weeping angel—it would look likeThe Nightmare Before Christmas.
“I'll come with you to help pick out décor,” I said hastily.
“Good choice,” Morticia replied.
“This penthouse is nuts.” I said, trying not to drool. “There is an actual staircase! I can wrap it in garland, real garland that smells like pine, with cranberries, big white ribbons, and fairy lights!”
Morticia smirked and tucked a strand of her long black hair behind her ear, showing the piercings. “I knew you would want to jizz Christmas all over this place.”
“How is Romance Creative able to afford all this?” I asked her.
“They worked out some deal with the tower owner to filmTheGreat Christmas Bake-Offhere,” Morticia said, sauntering into a large living room. It was fancy but bare.
“I hope this is on the list to be decorated.”
“Of course,” Morticia said.
“And no skeleton reindeer or creepy elves on the shelf,” I added.
“The elf on the shelf is not creepy!”
