Page 46 of Her Secret Santa

And then he reaches up and tugs at the ties of his mask.

The mask clatters to the carpeted floor of the lounge with a quiet noise, but he doesn’t turn immediately. My heart beats so fast in my chest that it hurts, anticipation and anxiety warring in my gut.

“I thought a few nights would be enough,” he says, his voice soft. My heart clenches at the raw emotion in his tone. “It’s not. I want more. I want us, Clara. No more hiding.”

Warmth spikes in my gut at the sound of my name on his tongue. It sounds so new, but familiar at the same time. It sounds right.

He turns, and all thoughts of fairy tales and romance shoot right out of the back of my head, shock overwhelming everything.

It’s the same midnight eyes that I’ve seen so many times, the same pronounced jawline, the same tumble of inky black hair that teases at sharp cheekbones. They’re all features I’m familiar with, all features I fantasize about on a daily basis. I don’t know how it can be such a shock to see them without a mask that doesn’t even cover that much of them.

But coming face to face with Zaiden Hawthorne is the last thing I expect.

I gape at him, shock and confusion and awe and disbelief all streaming through my mind. This makes no sense. He’s filthy rich, famous enough to make headlines, so arrogant that I’ve wanted to wring his neck over rumors I’ve heard. And I’mme. I’m the opposite of him in every way I can come up with. I’m not fancy and rich and special enough to be on his arm, or in the public eye. We come from entirely different worlds, but none ofthis makes sense. Nothing that I know about Zade Hawthorne matches up with the man I’ve gotten to know as my Elite.

And then my shock only doubles because as I stare at him, baffled, he tugs at the hem of his suit jacket and glances off to the side anxiously. The familiarity of the action slams into me, and my jaw drops as I come to another realization. I yank my own mask off to get a better look.

“Santa?” I practically screech the word, my surprise so severe that I can’t control my reaction. “You—you’re Santa? You’re Zade Hawthorne and my Elite and fuckingSanta.”

His face lights up on a smile, and he damn near doubles over in laughter. It’s soft and breathy, not at all what I expected him to sound like when laughing, and he looks so caught off guard that I can’t help but laugh with him.

“Of course that’s your first question.” He doesn’t sound annoyed, or even teasing. He sounds totally adoring, enamored with me, and when he straightens and closes the distance between us, I see nothing but honest affection shining in his eyes. “Yes. Grumpy Santa, that’s me. And Zade. And your Elite.”

I blink in astonishment, staring down at his hands on my shoulders. Those hands have been on my skin so many times before, but it seems so new now.

“I should have told you,” he says. “I knew the first night I saw you at Eternity.”

I flinch at that, instinctive distrust flooding my veins. Did he pick me that night as some sort of joke? Did he just want to get back at me for going off on him? Was this whole thing just to get revenge for?—

“I know it sounds bad,” he says bashfully, an honest apology shining in dark eyes. “I just couldn’t keep my eyes off you, even when you were wearing that ridiculous elf costume. When I saw you there, I couldn’t stay away.”

“Oh.” I blink at him, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. That wasn’t the explanation I expected. “And… the Santa thing?”

“The Santa thing is for PR, we’re keeping it secret until after the holidays,” he explains. “I thought I was going to hate it. Ididhate it. But then there you were, so kind and caring and trying to make the whole thing special for each and every kid, and I couldn’t keep fucking off when I knew how important it was to you. I… I haven’t done much good in my life, not out of the kindness of my heart. I thought it was useless to put other people’s needs before my own, even when I had more than I needed. I’m learning to be less selfish, and it’s because of you, but I can’t deny myself this bit of selfishness. I want you, Clara.”

I can hardly pull in enough breath to stay standing, much less to think straight enough to answer any of that. How could I have done anything to change him so much? Especially without even knowing I was doing anything?

“I know this is a lot,” he continues, a pleading note in his voice. “I’m not asking you to agree to anything permanent right now. I’m just asking for a chance.”

He sounds more vulnerable than I thought him capable of. Like he’s… human. Like he’s just a man.

“A chance?” I ask weakly. “You knew about me this whole time, and now you’re asking for a chance? Wait, is that why you hired me? I knew that job was too good to be true.”

People like Zade Hawthorne don’t ask forchances. They take what they want. But the man in front of me is touching me so gently, looking at me like I’m something precious, and I don’t know how to handle any of that. My Elite always made me feel this way, special and taken care of, but everything I know about Zade Hawthorne doesn’t fit. Even so, the look in his eyes right now is just as tender, just as caring and protective as when he looks at me at Eternity.

But he didn’t say anything until now. Therehasto be a reason. Was he hiding me? Was he ashamed?

“Just one,” he says, his voice shaking. “I made sure you got hired because you’re good at what you do, but also because I wanted to be around you. I had no idea how to tell you any of this, how to ask for anything more than what you already gave me. You dropped your wish list, and I wanted to make all your dreams come true, but I didn’t know how to do it as myself, so I did it as your Elite. But that’s not enough anymore. I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know each other—properly, without hiding behind masks. I want to do it, just me and you. Let me take you out for a day in the city. I’ll pick you up in the morning, and we’ll do anything you want. You’re what I want, Clara. Please, give me one chance to prove it to you.”

There are a million different things I could say. Questions to ask, answers to demand, details to figure out. The job and Eternity and my list, they’re all things I need more than just a choppy, half terrified explanation of. But he’s begging, something I doubt he’s ever done before in his life, and he’s begging forme.

“What about the media?” I ask, instead of demanding answers for anything else. “I… I can’t handle being in the spotlight like that, and I don’t want to hear what the tabloids would have to say about our relationship.”

He shakes his head firmly, steel in his gaze.

“Let me handle that,” he says. “I’ll protect you, I swear it. If anyone says something bad about you, I’ll go to bat for you.”

It can’t just be that easy, can it? I shouldn’t just say yes.

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