Page 4 of He Knows When You're Awake

I pause, realizing I’m rambling. But Cole is watching me intently, genuinely interested. It emboldens me to continue.

“My latest collection, the one I’m trying to launch, it’s called Midnight Frost. It’s inspired by those moments just before dawn in the dead of winter, when everything is still and silent and dangerous. One slip on the ice can break everything. The way icecan be both breathtakingly beautiful and lethal. To be frank, my designs have a BDSM vibe, but I can’t exactly tell possible investors that.”

What. The. Fuck?!?

Why did I just include that last part? What the hell is wrong with me?

Cole’s eyes seem to darken as I speak, a hint of something hungry in his gaze.

Needing to recover fast, I add, “I actually have some sketches with me,” I reach for my phone where my ever-present portfolio is saved. “I always carry them, just in case I run into someone who—”

“Sloane!” Chloe’s voice cuts through the moment. I turn to see her weaving through the crowd, her own ugly sweater a riot of tinsel and blinking lights.

I glance back at Cole. This man is clearly out of my league, probably just being polite to the clumsy woman who ruined his expensive suit. But there’s something in his eyes that makes me hesitate to dismiss our encounter so easily.

“I should go,” I say reluctantly. “My friend...”

Cole nods, understanding. “I won’t keep you from your tradition.”

But as I start to turn away, he catches my hand. The touch of Cole’s fingertips sends an electric current up my arm. His skin is warm, his grip firm but gentle.

Our eyes lock for a moment, and I feel like I’m standing on ice, about to slip and fall. Then Chloe’s hand is on my arm, tugging me away, and the spell is broken.

“Oh my god, what happened to Rudolph?” she asks as we make our way to a table.

I glance back over my shoulder, but Cole has already melted into the crowd with a grace that seems impossible for someone of his size.

“It’s a long story,” I say, unable to keep the wistfulness out of my voice. “Involving a very expensive scotch and a very handsome stranger.”

Chloe’s eyes widen with interest. “Ooh, do tell! Was he hot? Rich? Both?”

I laugh, settling into our usual booth. “Definitely both. But it doesn’t matter. He was just being nice after I ruined his suit.”

“Sure, sure,” Chloe says, clearly not buying it. “That’s why you look like you’ve been hit by a truck. A very sexy truck.”

I roll my eyes, but I can feel heat rising up to my cheeks. “Can we just order our drinks and pretend I’m not a walking disaster?”

The waitress arrives, and we place our usual order of peppermint martinis. As she walks away, Chloe leans in, her expression turning serious.

“So, how did it go today? Any word from the banks?”

I sigh, the brief spark of excitement from my encounter with Cole fading. “Another rejection. Apparently, my ‘lack of collateral’ and ‘unproven market potential’ make me too risky.”

Chloe reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Their loss. Your designs are amazing, Sloane. Someone’s going to see that eventually.”

“Maybe,” I say, not entirely convinced. “But right now, it feels like I’m screaming into the void. No one wants to take a chance on something different.”

Our drinks arrive, and I take a long sip, letting the cool peppermint wash away the taste of disappointment. The familiar flavors remind me of past Christmases, of the excitement and hope I used to feel at this time of year. Now, it just feels like one more reminder of dreams deferred.

“I’ve been thinking,” I say slowly, tracing patterns in the condensation on my glass. “Maybe it’s time for a change. A big one.”

Chloe leans forward, intrigued. “What kind of change are we talking about here?”

I take a deep breath, finally voicing the idea that’s been growing in my mind for weeks. “I’m thinking of leaving Moth to the Flame. Diving off the cliff with no safety net. I need to do something drastic to make this dream of mine happen.”

“Wow.” Chloe breathes. “That’s... that’s huge. Are you sure?”

I nod, feeling a mix of terror and exhilaration at the thought. “I’m suffocating there, Chlo. Every day, I’m forced to create things that don’t represent me, that don’t challenge anyone or anything. If I stay, I’ll lose myself completely.”