Page 41 of Her Secret Santa

That PI finally got back to me, and while I still haven’t had time to look through everything, I memorized her address first thing.

She’s in the Bronx, which already doesn’t make me happy, but seeing the state of her apartment building made me even more concerned. It’s a ragged old building that’s falling apart at the seams, and her actual apartment is the tiniest one bedroom I’ve seen in my entire life. It looked cozy enough at least, and it smelled like her—vanilla and fresh flowers and warmth.

I thought a lot last night about trying to get her to move, but I don’t think she’d agree. Her stubborn streak is a mile wide, and it’s not like she knows who I really am. I’d have no reason to ask her to move unless I told her everything.

She would look so good in my apartment, in my bed, on my couch with her feet up while we watch a movie. I’ve never wanted that with anyone else.

She’s the happiest person I’ve ever met—always kind, always smiling, always bending over backward for everyone else. I have no idea how the fuck she does it all. She gives every penny she gets to someone else, and I just want her to have something nice for once. Somethinghers.

I probably made the decision last night, but sitting up in my king size bed in my silent apartment, alone, that I finally accept it.

I’ve never wanted something like this before, but I’m still Zaiden Hawthorne. I’m still a man who gets everything I want. What I want this time is to stop running. I want to put my mouth where my money is, to step up and take care of my girl properly. I want more than just nights at Eternity. I want lazy mornings and hot coffee with her at my side, I want to make every singlething on her Christmas wish list come true, I want her days—good and bad—I want it all.

No more masks, no more hiding. It’s time to come clean, to tell her everything and hope she’ll accept me as Zade instead of an anonymous Elite.

To start, though, I need to bite the bullet and really clean up my act. There’s not much I can do in the six days I have left until Christmas rolls around, but some effort is better than none. I’m serious about this, and I won’t let myself get in my own way.

She’s too perfect to deserve anything but the best, and unless I can be that, I run the risk of her slipping through my fingers. Not that Landon has a chance with her, but seeing his interest in her makes it obvious that I’m not the only one who notices just how incredible she is. A life without her at my side isn’t something I’m willing to risk.

I’m not supposed to be going into the office today, having a shift as Santa this afternoon, but no one is going to question me calling a meeting. As soon as I finish showering and shaving, I shoot off an email from my phone, asking all the department heads to clear their schedules for a late morning meeting that Gabriela and I will be heading. I text Gabriela to expect me in her office in the next half hour before dressing for the day. I pick something a little less imposing than I usually go for, a dove gray Kiton with a navy tie.

I call Heidi on my way in, stretching out in the backseat of the car as my driver weaves in and out of traffic.

“Good morning,” she answers, a note of confusion in her voice.

“Heidi, can you help me out with a few things?” I ask, glancing down at Clara’s Christmas list where it rests in my palm. “I need to have a meeting with Gabriela this morning, and I won’t have time to get everything else set up.”

I hear the rustling of paper as she pulls a notepad closer to her before she answers me.

“Of course.”

I fire requests off the top of my head, everything that I can think of that would fit into the festive spirit. Catered lunch for the entire office for the rest of the week, hefty gift cards to restaurants and movie theaters for all of the non-executive staff, the biggest tree we can get set up in the lobby on short notice. I want coffee mugs and gift baskets on every employee’s desk by tomorrow morning, and the same delivered to everyone working from home. She doesn’t say a single word until my final request, writing everything down studiously.

“And I want large donations made to Brooklyn Gardens Nursing Home and the Jackson Children’s Home,” I say. “At least half a million. I’ll run the budget to see if we can spare more tomorrow morning.”

“Those two specifically?”

The curiosity in her voice is blatant, but she won’t come out straight and ask me unless I offer more information. She’s known me for my entire life, and I’m sure she has her suspicions already. I haven’t exactly been subtle, after all. I’ll have to tell her the truth about Clara later, but I’d rather do that in the privacy of her office.

“Yes. I’ll have Gabriela get a list of other places together, but start with those two. I’m pulling up to the office now, we can talk more about this after my meeting.”

We hang up as my driver pulls up to the lobby doors, and Gabriela is waiting for me just inside. I head in, my shoes tapping out a crisp staccato against the marble floor, and she falls into step beside me. She looks just as neat and serious as usual, a tablet in her hand, but there’s a sparkle of something akin to pride in her brown eyes.

“You said we’d be heading a meeting this morning?” she asks as we step into the elevator.

“I assume you have a list of charities you’d like me to donate to,” I say, punching in the number for the top floor. “Let’s make a list, get some ideas of places that are close to home for my employees, get a budget set up. Run your articles, set up whatever events you want me to sponsor. Just send me the financials for it all and I’ll approve it.”

She looks over at me, one thin brow arched in surprise. I keep my eyes focused on the shiny metal doors in front of us. My mind is too full of ideas, thoughts on how to show Clara that I’m serious and can be a better person, a partner who might someday be worthy of her.

“Is this meeting to announce that?” she asks, turning her attention back to her tablet and typing feverishly away.

“I’ll also be accepting suggestions on charitable donations from the department heads and VPs,” I say as the doors slide open. “I’ll need you to spearhead making their suggestions actionable and ensuring they’re good for PR.”

She nods sharply as we step out onto the top floor. I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head as she taps out notes.

I suppose I can begrudgingly admit that she’s really fucking good at her job. It may not be her influence that’s making me get my act together, but it’s her expertise that will make the attempt effective.

We step into the meeting room together just as the last few executives are taking their seats.

---