Istareafterthewoman, a sense of familiarity warming in my chest as she runs past Annabelle and out of the ballroom. Stunned, I slip the thick envelope she gave me into the inside pocket of my suit jacket. That will have to wait until later. Right now, I have something more pressing to deal with.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Annabelle?”
I haven’t seen Annabelle since her ill-fated request to Santa. Not that she hasn’t tried to see me a few times, but I’ve always had security escort her from the premises. After she showed her true colors last year, I wanted to keep her as far away from me as possible.
Looks like my good luck has finally run out.
“Aw, baby. Don’t be like that,” she pouts. When she steps toward me on sky-high stilettos, the slit in her dress shows more leg than most people consider acceptable in polite company. I don’t recall her being this thirsty before. Has she changed that much?
“What are you doing here? After what happened last year, I would think my company’s Christmas party is the last place you’d want to show your face. How’d you even know where I would be tonight?”
She trails her long manicured fingernails down my arm and a shudder racks my body. I take a step back. This is not the same Annabelle I remember.
She huffs a breath and the scent of vodka wafts past my nose. “Your mother told me where you were. I came to tell you I still love you, and I forgive you.” She flutters her eyelashes, the extensions so long and thick I’m pretty sure they make their own breeze. Those are new, too.
“My mother? What the hell are you doing talking to my mother?” And what is my mother doing talking to her? “What do you mean ‘you forgive me’? You’re the one who cheated on me. What the hell do I need your forgiveness for?”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “She kept in touch with me after that unfortunate incident last year. But enough about her. Don’t you miss me?”
I bark a laugh. “Miss you? You made a sex tape with another man, Annabelle. Why would I miss you? Where is he tonight, anyway? Don’t you have some filming to do?”
She pops a hip and crosses her arms in front of her, examining the nails on one hand. “I never meant for you to find out,” she whines. “I wanted Santa to help me make sure you never saw the video. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t even go to that trainer anymore.” She drops her arms to her side and fixes me with a sultry stare. “So we can be together again, baby. Isn’t that wonderful news?”
“You fucking cheated on me, Annabelle. What on earth makes you think I would take you back?” I take a deep breath, willing myself to calm down.What the fuck? Is she for real?I swivel my head, looking for cameras because even on her drunkest day, Annabelle had never been like this. “Okay, but really. Is this a prank? You can’t be serious. Where’s Ashton?” She glares at me. “You’re serious? Oh. Well, then. Yeah.” I clear my throat, thanking the powers that be, yet again, for showing me that Annabelle and I were not right for each other. She would have driven me insane within a year. “Annabelle, no. We are never getting back together.” The Taylor Swift song plays in my head and I smile.
Would it be too cruel to play it for Annabelle right now? Probably. I pull my phone out of my pocket and open my music player, you know, in case I decide cruelty is the way to go.
“But we were so good together,” she whines. “We look amazing in photos.”
“No, we really weren’t. You were always traveling and we were both too busy with work.. In the six months we were together, we saw each other so infrequently that I wonder how I ever thought we were dating. And who cares about photos? That shit doesn’t matter. You’re a model, Annabelle. It’s literally your job to look good in photos, regardless of who’s in them with you. No, I think this worked out for the best.”
“Doesn’t it matter what I think?” She stamps her foot like a petulant child. “What if I want to get back together?”
I laugh again. If she thinks this is going to work out in her favor, she’s delusional.
Fuck. I need a drink.
“What you think stopped mattering to me the minute you hopped into bed with another guy.”
She huffs a laugh at me. “Well, it’s not my fault you dressed up like Santa Claus. I thought you were one of his official helpers.”
I snort a laugh, appreciating the joke until I look at Annabelle and see she’s not joking. “Wait. Do you…? Annabelle. You don’t think Santa is real, do you?”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “No, Archer. I’m not stupid. I said I thought you were a real Santa’s Helper. Like a trained Santa impersonator. I couldn’t get in touch with my therapist and I thought that a Santa impersonator would be the next best thing. Instead, it was you. I’d never have asked for what I did if I’d known you were in that costume.”
I shake my head, still not sure if she believes in Santa, but not really interested in finding out the answer. If she believes there is such a thing as official Santa’s Helpers, it’s entirely possible she believes in old Saint Nick. I don’t care either way, though.
No, the only thing I want to know right now is, who was that woman I was talking to earlier? Her tear-stained face, wild red hair, and wide smile are stuck in my brain.
Her ass in those leggings wasn’t bad, either.
“Archer. Are you listening to me?” Annabelle snaps her fingers in front of my face to get my attention. “I said, you can take me out tonight and we’ll talk about this.”
I scoff. “You can’t be serious. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Look. You’re not being rational right now. I get it. You’ve had a long day. You deserve some time to yourself after hosting this ridiculous party for the…people in your company.” She shudders. She never agreed with what I wanted to do for my staff. Annabelle figured they weren’t important enough for me to talk to or spend time with, let alone invite to the company Christmas party. I don’t know what I ever saw in her. “They’re so lucky to have a nice boss like you. Of course, you know you can’t afford to throw these parties for them every year. When you go back to the lovely cocktail parties your father used to host, you’ll need someone like me on your arm. A powerful man deserves a beautiful woman to help him look good to investors.” She reaches out to smooth my tie, but I yank it from her hand and step away. “At least you’ve dressed appropriately. I’m so glad you skipped the whole Santa thing this year.”
I shake my head. She always did care more for appearances than anything else. “I didn’t skip it. I changed earlier so I could enjoy the party after I passed out the gifts.”
