Page 24 of Her Secret Santa

“I’m on my way out the door,” she says as she rushes away from her locker, not even bothering to close it all the way. “I’ll see you in half an hour, alright? I love you!”

Her words fade along with the sight of her, but just as the door drifts closed behind her, I see a paper slip free from her backpack and fall to the ground. It’s none of my business, sure, but that’s not going to stop me. If it’s nothing interesting, I’ll just put it in her locker so she finds it when she comes in for her next shift, but I’m a curious man at heart.

I walk over and bend to pick it up from the floor.

It’s lined yellow paper, the kind from a legal pad, folded into a neat square and crinkled around the edges. I carefully unfold it, running my thumbs over the seams. Her handwriting is neat and bubbly, exactly what I’d expect from someone like her.

I’m surprised at the laugh that falls from my mouth when I realize it’s a Christmas wish list.

Normally, I’d scoff at something like this, especially from an adult, but I can practically feel the genuine excitement in the words. She wants a laptop and a job in graphic design, and to go to the spa and have a Christmas Day right out of a fairy tale. It’s kind of a sad list. I could make all of those things happen with a snap of my fingers. The bullet point about experiencing her sexual desires makes me smirk, as does the big check mark beside it. She’s only gotten the tip of the iceberg so far.

I already knew it was Clara writhing under me last night, and her conversation with her friend this morning confirmed that. She tasted so good on my tongue, submitted so sweetly for me, no hesitation in those pretty blue eyes as I fucked her into incoherency.

I turn the letter over in my hands, considering. How hard her life must really be if these are things she’s wishing for. I could make all of these wishes come true without blinking. I’m more than a little surprised to realize that Iwantto.

I know damn well that I want her again, and that I’m not going to stop thinking about it until I absolutely demolish her. IfI’m being honest, I want to give her everything on this list and more.

With everyone else finally gone, I change out of the Santa costume and into a bulky hoodie to hide my face, then tuck the list in my pocket and rush out to my car. As soon as my driver ushers me into the car, I pull my phone and the list from my pocket and dial up Arlo’s number.

“If it isn’t the secret Santa,” Arlo says in greeting.

I scowl at my phone, strongly considering hanging up as I put up the partition to ensure my conversation stays private.

“Ha, ha,” I say drily. “You’re so funny, asshole.”

He laughs raucously, unashamed of his teasing. I’ve given him plenty of shit over the years, so it’s fair for it to come back around to me.

“You need something, Santa baby?” he asks, his grin obvious in his voice. “Got some shit I need to handle.”

I don’t even want to know what that means.

“You’ve got a PI, yeah?”

“I’ve got a couple guys who work above board,” he says. “I can send their information your way.”

He may be a shady motherfucker sometimes, but I appreciate the lack of questions.

“Just send me your best. I need to look into someone from last night.”

“The great Zaiden Hawthorne, chasing after a girl?” Arlo says with a laugh. “Hell must have frozen over.”

I scoff at him, but don’t bother to deny it.

“Send your guy to me,” I tell him. “Go handle your shit.”

Arlo laughs at my brusque tone before hanging up. A moment later a text arrives with an email address.

I’m still sitting in the parking garage, too keyed up to head home until I get the ball rolling on this. I waste no time typing out a message requesting everything the guy can get me onClara, telling him that Arlo sent me. I want her phone number, her address, everywhere she’s ever worked, her favorite ice cream, who her family is, where her grandma lives. I want to know everything about her.

I get an email back within minutes—an invoice and a promise to get the information over to me immediately.

I hardly glance at the cost before sending the money over. No matter how much, it’ll be worth it. One taste of her wasn’t anywhere near enough. I need her again.

And I’m a man who gets what I want.

Chapter Eleven

CLARA

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