Page 23 of His for Christmas
Maise purred.
“Just don’t eat the tinsel. I’m pretty sure it won’t digest well.”
A knock came at the door. I frowned. The owner of the house had gone to visit her son in Alabama. I was watching Maise until she got back, though to be honest, the gray and white striped cat had taken up residence almost since I’d gotten here. There were a few other people living in the house, but they were at work.
Which meant I had no idea who was knocking on the door.
I pushed a reluctant Maise off my lap and went to peer through the peephole. Oh God. “Mr. Thompson?”
“Gage,” he said.
My heart started beating like crazy. What was he doing here?
Was he finally going to turn me in?
He looked about cold enough to do it, his mouth set in grim lines. In fact his face seemed starker than it had been, shadows under his eyes and a shadow of scruff on his hard jaw.
And deep inside, stupid hope beat against my ribs, clamoring to get out, and God, I didn’t want to be wrong. Not again. Not about this. I needed some kind of protection around my heart, but seeing him standing outside my door in that ratty hallway tore down every defense I might have had.
“It’s Christmas,” I said, stalling.
“That’s why I came today,” he called. “I knew you couldn’t turn me away on Christmas.”
Damn him, he was right. Just like I’d told him he couldn’t fire a guy a week before Christmas. Fear and a small, strange excitement warred inside me as I opened the door a crack.
His expression was reserved. He held up a small box wrapped in red and gold. “I come bearing gifts. Well, one gift.”
If there were handcuffs in there, I was ready to be seriously pissed. Well, unless he had a different use planned for them… But worrying would get me nowhere. I had no choice but to open the door and show him up to my room. Then close the door and take his coat, as if he would be staying awhile. Doing anything else was physically impossible.
“I didn’t take you for a cat person,” he said as Maise twined between his legs.
“She’s not mine.” Just to be contrary I said, “But she’s sweet. I could’ve had a cat.”
“I see you with a dog. Something small but energetic.”
I’d have done anything for a dog. Only, even as a young girl I’d been smart enough not to ask for things. Maybe I hadn’t always been stupid. I’d just spent my brain cells on survival, on staying under my daddy’s radar so he’d never have leverage against me. Never touch me. “I’m not allowed to keep pets here anyway. Maise belongs to the owner of the house.”
He wandered farther into the room. He stooped to examine my pathetic houseplant Christmas tree. I felt overexposed with him seeing where I lived. How I lived. He looked sharp in a suit—even outside of work, on Christmas day. That was him, covered in masculine linen and silk, wrapped like a present.
“I’m starting a new trend,” I said lightly.
When he glanced back at me, his expression was solemn. He looked less like a stranger, more like the Gage Thompson I knew from the office. The Big Bad Billionaire… but even with his stern face, I wasn’t intimidated by him anymore. If he wanted to ruin me, it would be only too easy. With his money and his power, he could ruin anyone. I was completely at his mercy, and I found, for some reason, that I liked it here. It didn’t feel scary.
It felt safe.
I didn’t think he was here to turn me in. “Did you come to offer me a job?”
He glanced at me sideways. “Do you want one?”
“Depends what I’d have to do.”
A small smile turned his lips, challenging and intimate. “What if I said you had to come to my office, late at night when no one else is there?”
My stomach knotted. “I’d say that sounds familiar.”
He withdrew something from his pocket. Folded paper that he opened. “Angel Marie Cole,” he read.
My heart sank. “What is that?”
But I knew. I knew what it was even before he said, “Your job application. And let me tell you, this wasn’t easy to get on Christmas Eve at midnight.”
“You own the company.”
“And as such, I’m considering a complete overhaul of our filing system. It took me two hours to find this.”
Despite my distress, a smile tugged at my lips. He hadn’t wanted to disturb his employees on Christmas Eve, in the middle of the night, so he’d done it himself. I imagined him bumping into file cabinets, swearing under his breath, and thumbing through stacks of files.
But no matter how adorable the image was, it didn’t change what was on that paper.
Anger rose up in me, which was a whole lot easier than dealing with the truth. I didn’t like him being disappointed in me. Didn’t like being disappointed in myself. “You had no right to pull that out.”
