Page 11 of Her Secret Santa

“Hawthorne Enterprises is doingfine. We've made record profits, and our holiday season projections are through the roof.You have no idea what you’re talking about. Anything in the news about my personal life has jack shit to do with our stocks, and the board, as well as our investors should be smart enough to understand that.”

She blinks slowly and takes a breath as if she’s about to talk to a child. Which, clearly, I’m not.

“You'll start by reinstating the holiday parties,” she tells me, ignoring my frustrated scoff. “Christmas bonuses, too. You'll also be adding donations back into your budgets. I'll provide a list of appropriate charities, things that will tug at people's heartstrings. You need to clean up your image from the ground up.”

Good fucking God, what is she on? And where the hell can I get some? You’d have to be high as a kite to make these suggestions.

“For fuck’s sake, enough about the parties and the bonuses! These people are my employees, not my friends. I'm not doling out presents like I'm Santa.”

A pleased glint shines in her eyes.

“What an excellent comparison,” she says, sounding almost like my mother—detached and vaguely amused. “You'll also be taking over the role of Santa at the Hawthorne Mall for the entirety of the holiday season.”

I laugh incredulously, glancing down and expecting to see my uncle doing the same. Instead, the two of them are smiling politely at each other, clearly in fucking cahoots. My uncle looks up to meet my eyes, utterly serious.

“I’ve shifted the majority of your duties elsewhere to ensure your schedule is free,” Pax says.

Absolute horror rockets through me at the very thought.

Me? PlayingSanta? I don’t want little smelly, dirty brats sitting on my lap, much less close enough to get their snot on me. This is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard, and I work withLandon. I shake my head back and forth, struggling to find words to express how very much I willnotbe doing that, but she continues talking.

“You will be Santa from Black Friday through Christmas, in secret, obviously. It would be counterproductive to flood the place with media. All that hubbub will just chase families elsewhere to go see Santa, and frankly, I don't believe you're capable of staying calm in front of that many reporters,” she says, raking her gaze over me as I stand there in shock.

She doesn't sound likemymother anymore, but she sure sounds like a real parental figure. My mother is a somewhat vacant socialite who turned into a shell of a person when my father died. She was an acceptable parent, but she’s never had any interest in the business side of things. We don’t talk much these days, but I make sure she has money in her account.

It's been a long time since anyone but Pax has told me I'm going to do something, and Gabriela isn’t trying to be polite and diplomatic about it.

I may have misjudged her. I may be really, really fucked.

“You will be friendly to the kind children of New York,” she says briskly. “You will smile, and you will ask them what they want for Christmas, and you will promise they'll get it, and you'll take a million pictures. And you willnotcomplain.”

“This is absurd,” I finally manage. “I—this is—I have acompanyto run, Ms. Rockwell. I don't have time to play dress up.”

She arches a brow at me, entirely unamused, and rests her hands over the papers on the table before her.

“Too bad,” she says, my uncle looking positively radiant. “Youwilldo this, Zade, or you won't have a company to run. Let's face it, short of finding the perfect woman and making a wholesome family image for yourself, this is your best bet. I don't care who you are as a person, but Hawthorne Enterprisesis a stand-up conglomerate that deserves better than a drunk playboy causing problems in the media.”

If I wasn't so pissed, I'd be impressed. Absolutely no one speaks to me this way, and she's doing it without so much as a flinch. As it is, I'm seething with fury.

There’s no way she can make me do all this.

“On Christmas Day, there will be a large media announcement of your participation as Santa at the mall, followed by several sizable donations to children’s centers,” she continues, paying no attention to my rising anger. “If you can't handle doing this much, I'd suggest you save yourself the embarrassment and step down before you're voted out.”

“Like hell Ican'thandle it.”

It's dressing up and signing some papers. It's not like it's hard, it's just childish and ridiculous. I’ll prove to them, to everyone, that I can play their game, even better than they can. Voted out—no one would dare.

“Wonderful to hear,” she says, a bland, professional smile on her face. She slides a manila folder across the desk. “Sign on the dotted line.”

God, this is going to be a nightmare.

Chapter Five

CLARA

Thanksgiving went really well, despite all my worries. My grandma and the other residents enjoyed themselves, and they seem to have made their own little family amongst each other and the staff there. I was worried it would be lonely, but it felt just as homey as the holidays my grandma and I would have at the apartment. The kids were even more excited than I expected about the leftovers I brought.

I’m hoping today will go just as smoothly.

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