Page 3 of Husband for the Holidays

“What? Why?”

Ilias’s shock echoed hers. She moved closer to eavesdrop, hearing the rustle of Konstantin’s overcoat as he slipped it on. His voice lowered, but she heard his rumbled words.

“Your sister is cute, but I don’t want to encourage her.”

Oh, Gawd.

She covered her face, mortified that she’d misinterpreted that moment and made such a fool of herself that Konstantin couldn’t even stick around to face her.

“I’d hoped she’d grown out of that.” Ilias’s voice held humor. “Thanks for not making me call you out for pistols at dawn. We’ll talk soon.”

The door closed and she wanted to run into her room and hide. She made herself go back to the tree and pretend she hadn’t overheard anything.

“That looks good,” Ilias said behind her. At least he was kind enough not to tease her.

“I think so,” she lied, refusing to look at him. She hated this tree. The whole season was ruined. Based on how sick she felt, she doubted she would ever enjoy Christmas again.

CHAPTER ONE

Present day...

THETWELVEDAYSof Christmas was turning into twelve nights of acute anxiety.

Eloise glanced again to be sure she had the right name on the present and knocked on the door of the Manhattan high-rise apartment.

A woman in silk slacks and a cowl-neck sweater answered the door. Her blond hair was in a ponytail, but the loose, messy kind that had been teased to look casual. Her makeup was fresh enough to signal she had plans for the evening. She gave Eloise’s elf costume a pithy once-over and sighed.

Eloise knew what an atrocity it was. Even the smallest uniform had been too big for her and the fabric was so cheap static made it cling in all the wrong places. Plaits of orange yarn protruded from either side of her green bent cone hat behind pointed ears. The whole thing was probably askew because the yarn was itchy and she kept flicking it away from her face. Fake fur trimmed the green vest she wore over a long-sleeved turtleneck of red-and-white stripes. Her green skirt fell to mid-thigh and ended in triangles adorned with bells. Her legs were made to look like candy canes complete with shoes that turned up at the toes.

She was a caricature looking at a version of the affluent person she used to be.

“Good evening,” she said with a polite smile. “I believe the doorman announced me? You ordered Twelve Days for Noah?”

“My sister-in-law did. She must be mad at me.” The woman turned to call out, “Noah? There’s someone here to see you.”

“Again?” A four-year-old boy ran to the door in his pajamas.

“Hi, Noah!” Eloise crouched and dug deep for a voice that was playful and filled with the magic and wonder of the season. “I’m Merrilee. I think you met Rocket yesterday? I’m another one of Santa’s helpers. He asked me to bring you this.” She offered the gift.

“Cool!” He grabbed the gift. “Can I open it?” He was already retreating back into the apartment.

“Say thank you first,” the woman said in a harried voice.

“Thank you,” Noah called back, but he was gone.

“See you tomorrow,” Eloise said as she stood, but the door was already shutting in her face. “Merry Christmas,” she added, faint and facetious.

She might once have been as rich and well-dressed as that woman, but she had never been that awful to people who were just trying to make ends meet. She had definitely taken for granted living in places like this, though. And having plans on Tuesday night and being showered with gifts just because.

She dragged her oversized velvet sack full of gifts back to the elevator. It was affixed to a square of wood on casters and was worse than walking a dog, wandering every direction and clipping her heel when she least expected it.

Once in the elevator, she dug for the next parcel, checking the time and the address on her phone. The building was only a few blocks away, but dragging this cloth bag through the streets was a lot harder than it looked. Snow clogged up the casters and—

Wait. Were there two kids at this next address? She pawed deeper into the bag, vaguely aware the elevator had halted and the doors opened to the lobby. This one? She turned the gift over inside the bag.

“Up or out?” a gruff male voice asked with tested patience.

That voice.

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