Page 52 of Her Secret Santa

“Enough!” Pax shouts, cutting me off. “Landon,out. We have important things to discuss.”

My uncle stares at me, his face impassive in a way that I know means he’s absolutely furious. Landon tries to argue, but Pax shoves him out into the hallway and yanks the door closed.

The three of us stand, silent and tense, in Pax’s office. Snow falls lazily outside, a stark contrast to the harsh energy vibrating around me.

“Things don’t look good,” Gabriela says bluntly.

I fucking know that. The headlines and calls have been flooding my phone and email, painting my relationship with Clara as something dirty and cheap rather than the only purely good thing I’ve ever had in my life. The look in her eyes when she ran off fucking gutted me, and she won’t pick up my calls. I tried to run after her, but the press swarmed me, and by the time I shove my way through, she was already gone. I knew I didn’t have a chance of making things right between us if I couldn’t fix this shit show, so I rushed to the office when my uncle called.

The thought of my reputation ruining this before I even have a chance to change fucking breaks my heart.

“We’ll fix it,” Gabriela promises. “You’re a grown man, you’re allowed to have friends. We can even spin it that she’s been advising you about charities, or, worst case, that she’s been pursuing you.”

Pure fury washes through me at the thought of throwing Clara to the wolves like that, especially when Ipromisedto keep her safe from the media’s wrath. Before I have a chance to go off on her, Pax meets my eyes, concern and curiosity written in the lines of his face.

“Do you love the girl?” he asks.

“What? Yes.” What kind of question is that? How could I not love Clara? She’s everything I could have ever wished for. “Of course I do.”

“Are you prepared to show the world that?” I glance between Pax and Gabriela, unsure of where they’re going with this.

“The best thing for your image right now is honesty,” Gabriela says with consideration. “You’re a man, and you’re in love. You’re human. Show the tabloids that you’re willing to throw away the bad boy persona and be a person. If this Clara girl loves you back, you’ll be golden.”

I blink at her in confusion, disgust settling unpleasantly in my stomach. I know that it’s her job, but is she really thinking about my fucking public image right now? The tabloids are calling Clara a gold digger, and I’m supposed to be worried about howIlook?

“This isn’t about me!” I snap. “I don’t care whether this is good for PR or the press. She’s the kindest, most generous person on the planet, and however this happened, she got humiliated in front of the biggest reporters in the city. Even if she’ll never take me back, she doesn’t deserve to have her name splashed around like this. I don’t want her to believe all these lies.”

My voice breaks on the last word, my heart aching in my chest at the thought. What if she does? I’ve already seen how she believes she’s less important than others. Less valuable. What if she believes all of it, every inflated rumor that I’ve been leading her on, or worse, thatIsee her as the gold digger the media is painting her to be. I was so fucking stupid. I have never given a fuck what the public thinks of me, but Clara… she does care. I should have instantly made a plan and not ignored it like I would usually do for myself.

And Gabriella’s solution is to simply declare that I’m in love. It can’t be that easy.

I’d almost rather let my life go down in flames than see anyone paint Clara in a bad light because of me. There shouldn’t be a single whisper of her goodness being overshadowed by my mistakes and faults. She deserves better than that.

It’s not the first time I’ve thought it, but maybe she deserves better than me.

“Then prove them wrong,” Pax says. “You’re in the public eye. Anything you do is going to be reported on, but you don’t have to pay attention to that. Do what’s right by her. Do what’s right byyou. I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy, Zade.”

My breathing is shaky, panic starting to overwhelm my anger. Anger is easier, lashing out and being what everyone expects. But the fear of losing her is something I don’t know how to handle.

But my uncle is right. Even if she wants nothing to do with me, I can’t let this be how the world sees her. I want everyone to see the perfect, wonderful girl that I see every time I look at her. I want them to know that I was the one who chased after her, and that I was the one who failed to keep my promise. I won’t let the media smear her name like this.

“You seem to think this girl is an angel. She was the one who changed your mind about the donations and the holiday ball, wasn’t she?” Gabriela asks pointedly. “Show the world that. Spread all the good that she does, make her efforts more impactful. It’s my job to keep you looking good in the media, but if she’s this important to you, you can find a happy middle ground here.”

I take several deep, calming breaths, trying to get my whirling thoughts into some semblance of order. I’ve never known anyone asgoodas Clara, and Gabriela is right. Even ifthere’s nothing I can do to convince her that I can do better than this, I still have a chance to make her life better.

I don’t exactly know where to start with that, but I know who will.

“I—I need to go,” I say, already pulling my phone from my pocket to call my driver. “I’ll be back.”

I rush out of the office and toward the elevator, leaving my uncle and Gabriela behind without another word. My driver picks up on the second ring, and I ask him to meet me outside. I probably look like a mess, Landon’s blood on my knuckles, my hair a wreck, lines of worry creasing my eyes. I pay no attention to the swarming press, dashing through the crowd and into the backseat of my car.

“I need to go to Brooklyn Gardens Nursing Home,” I say as soon as I close my door and cut off the shouting reporters from outside.

My driver doesn’t ask any questions, pulling up directions and heading straight there. He keeps his foot heavy on the gas, and I make a mental note to give him a raise or a vacation or something. We make it to Brooklyn in record time, even with Christmas Eve traffic.

I rush inside as soon as the car comes to a stop, not taking a moment to look around the lobby. It’s well lit and warm, but I don’t care about anything but finding Clara’s grandma.

The receptionist is a redhead with a warm, easy smile, and she looks a little concerned about how frantic I seem.

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