Page 8 of Miles & Mistletoe

“My job is a flight attendant for a private airline. My job is to ensure passenger comfort and safety while they are onboard one of our company’s planes. My job is not to be your escort, but since you’re blackmailing me I have no choice. But don’t ever confuse this with my job.”

Ian’s face darkened as he stepped closer, crowding my space. However, I wouldn’t let him intimidate me. Men like Ian Zerlinger got off on even the slightest hint of fear.

“Your snarky and quick comebacks can be construed as cute on occasion, but make no mistake, I’ll only give you so much wiggle room to put me in my place, as you seem to think that’s what you’re doing. You could lose much more than your job, Stacia.” His voice was low and calm as he made the thinly veiled threat.

Why did the gleam in his eye coupled with his nearness cause goosebumps to rise along my arms? And they weren’t a result of fear.

“Let’s go.” He moved from in front of me, and for the first time, I saw the ballroom we were entering. Despite Ian’s coldness of a few seconds ago, a warm feeling moved through me as I took in the winter wonderland theme of the gala. White Christmas trees adorned in red and gold decorations lined the walls. Crystal snowflakes hung from the ceiling, and the tables were decorated in beautiful white china and crystal ware.

“Ian!”

My date stopped, causing me to pause as well as we turned to the female voice that’d just called his name.

“What took you so long? We’ve been waiting. The Collinses arrived fifteen minutes ago.”

I felt Ian’s response even before he opened his mouth. His arm tightened around mine ever so slightly as his body stiffened. Somehow, I knew that meant his anger was rising.

“Jamie, I’m sure you must’ve forgotten who you were speaking to in all of the excitement of the gala. I’ll let it slide this time, but make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he stated coldly.

I looked from Ian’s stern profile to the brunette that’d accompanied him the day before to the homeless shelter. Her eyes widened in shock before they quickly darted in my direction, narrowing. For some reason her hostility seemed to be aimed at me as opposed to the man who’d just handed her a verbal lashing. Odd.

“I will speak with Nikola and Andre eventually. For now, my date and I will be making our rounds.” And with that, Ian started off in the opposite direction Jamie had been trying to lead him in, tugging me ever so gently as our arms were still linked.

“She seemed upset.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“I thought you wanted to speak with the Collinses,” I noted.

“I do and I will. But both men just arrived from Atlanta not long ago. I surmise neither one wants to be bombarded with business inquiries within minutes of entering the gala. I sure wouldn’t, and I’m very familiar with those who try to do so. They don’t tend to get very far with me. We’ll give the Collinses time to relax a little. Champagne?” He casually changed the conversation, offering me a glass of champagne that he’d pulled from a passing waiter.

“Thank you.” I took a sip of the bubbling drink. It went down smooth.

“How is it?”

“Delicious. I can taste the fruitiness without it being too sweet.”

“That’s our rose champagne. I thought it’d be perfect for holiday events. Glad you approve.”

“This is one of your champagnes?”

He nodded. “All of the beverages tonight are courtesy of Zerlinger Beer and Spirits.”

“Good for you.”

“No, good for the company. This is one of our busiest times of the year.”

“Hence all of the engagements you have.”

“Precisely.” He nodded. “Come, I want you to meet someone.” Instead of holding his arm out to me, he took my left hand in his right, in a much more intimate move than before. And somehow it felt natural and right.

Over the course of the next two hours, Ian introduced me to a whirlwind of people. Thankfully, I was good with names and faces and was able to keep track of just about everyone, most of whom hadn’t been in the folder I was given earlier.

“Nikola,” Ian greeted Nikola Collins, a few hours into the event.

I could tell right away Nikola was a man who owned whatever room he walked into. At approximately six foot two inches, he was just an inch shorter than Ian, though he was slightly bulkier—not bulky per se, but a larger frame than Ian’s runner’s physique.

“Zerlinger.” Nikola tilted his head, a neutral expression covering his face. Did these type of men ever smile? I’d noticed early on how Ian rarely smiled.

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