Page 24 of Scrooge

“I will get ready here,” I say, nodding. I can’t get ready at home, since it will take his driver almost an hour to drive to our place in Jersey, and then another hour to get back into the city. Especially at that time of night.

He frowns. “I will have Laurent contact you. He will manage everything,” Alex says, and I nod once more. There’s no point in arguing. Might as well get used to this; we’ll be doing these fake dates for a while, at least.

“Fine. I will see you then,darling,” I tease, putting on a fake voice, imagining that is how the local socialites talk as they walk around Maddison Miller Gallery, ready to spend their millions. At least I get something out of our first date other than a headache and media attention.

“See you then, Sunflower,” he murmurs before he does something unexpected and leans forward, planting his lips to my forehead. My breath catches at the tender touch. It is over just as quick as it began, and he is already out the door and walking back to his office a block or two away before I come back to earth.

As my heart thuds, I look out the window at his retreating form and wonder if I am slowly breaking down the ice that encases that man. But then I see it. A photographer with a camera aimed right at me, standing across the street. The truth hits home harder than I care to admit.

Alex did it all for show. I need to remember that.

11

ALEXANDER

Ipull at my cuff, the nervous energy I have pulsating around my body entirely new. Sitting in the back seat, I try to relax as my driver snakes through the streets to Tucker Toys. I am used to attending events, and although I don’t go to many, it isn’t like I am a stranger around town. I have been to the Maddison Miller Gallery a few times, picking some art for my penthouse, and I have been selecting a few new pieces for my house in the Hamptons. Not that I have been there this year. Last time I was there, I went with my father for the weekend. The weekend before he died.

“We’re here, sir.”

I look up at the toy store. The Thanksgiving window sparkles as Dan, my driver, jumps out and opens my door.

“I’ll be five minutes,” I tell him, buttoning my suit jacket and walking briskly inside. The store is empty, and it is quiet, no music playing.

“I'm ready.” I hear Haylee’s voice, and I turn to see her walking out from the back, her sister right behind her.

My breath gets stuck in my throat. Laurent said he organized some clothing and a hair appointment for her, and while I didn’t think too much of it at the time, now I am dazzled.

“Is this alright? Laurent said that…” She might say more, but I can’t hear her as I take her in. Her hair is long and glossy, waving around her face and falling past her shoulders, her complexion almost peaches and cream, her makeup soft and subtle. She is wearing a little black dress and heels, her legs looking fucking fantastic, curves on display, and I finally take in a full breath. She was stunning before and is just as stunning now, but there’s a new confidence about her that’s noticeable in the way she’s carrying herself.

“Perfect. You look… perfect,” I say, rolling my shoulders. What the hell has gotten into me tonight?

Her lips part a little at my statement, her eyes searching mine, so I clear my throat, dismissing whatever thoughts and feelings are starting to whirl around my insides.

“Have a good time and text me when you get on the train,” Jillian says, and I frown.

“I will take you home,” I tell her firmly, and both women look at me.

“It’s a forty-minute train ride. I can take the train. Deloris will look after me,” Haylee says, checking the contents of her purse, not paying much attention to the conversation.

“We will probably be at the gallery for a while, and you are not taking the train at night.” While I haven’t personally taken the train in years, I know the subway at night is not the safest place.

“I will be fine,” Haylee says, looking up at me, confused, as her sister glances between the two of us.

“While I am sure Deloris will look after you, you are now my girlfriend, for all intents and purposes, and as such, a girlfriend of mine would not be taking the train, especially at night.”

“There is nothing wrong with the train.” Facing me completely, hands now on her hips, I see her sister step back a little. Will this woman do anything I ask of her?

“It isn’t safe,” I grit out, frustrated by her stubbornness.

“It's fine.” She tries to wave me off, like I am being silly.

“I have a lot of money, and people find creative ways to get it from me. Including targeting my staff, my friends, and my partners.” I don’t want to raise such an issue, but if it gets her to agree with me, then it is worth it.

“Are you saying I am in danger?” she asks, her voice wavering with alarm. Her sister’s now looking at me like she wants to gut me from nostril to navel.

“No. But I am saying people will be taking your photo tonight, and the news of us dating will be on social media in a matter of minutes of us arriving at the gallery. Paparazzi will follow us when we leave, and there is no way in hell I am dropping you off at the station to catch a fucking train home.” My voice rises a little, my breathing rapid. “A train isn’t safe for you, especially looking like that,” I add, looking her up and down, and her eyes widen.

“Hmmm, so he does have a bit of fire in him after all,” Jillian murmurs, and I scowl at her.

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