Page 4 of Her Secret Santa

I slick my hair back, the dark black a nice contrast against the subtle tan of my skin. My stubble isn’t too long, and I like the way it highlights my cheekbones, so I don’t shave it. After drying off, I pick a suit at random from my closet, a dark gray and imposing Zegna, and give myself a once over in the mirror. The bags under my eyes are pretty harsh, but I doubt anyone will notice. It's not like I haven't shown up hungover a million times before.

I stop for coffee on the way in, grabbing my usual quad shot espresso from the shop right beside the office. The barista tries to flirt with me, and like always, I ignore it.

I’m a few steps through the massive glass doors of the building before my phone buzzes with a text.

My office, now.

For fucks sake. My shoes clip over the waxed tile of the lobby, annoying me. It's rare that my uncle gets snippy with me. He must be really mad, which is not what I want to deal with this morning.

As soon as the elevator spits me out on the top floor, I make my way down the hall, knocking once before stepping into my uncle’s office. He's sitting behind his gleaming mahogany desk, the expanse of New York City stretching out behind him. He looks up, his face unreadable, and nods toward the chair in front of his desk. The door clicks shut behind me as I make my way to lean against the corner of the desk, looking down at him and waiting for him to speak.

“You made headlines again,” he says tersely.

He slides a tablet across the desk closer to me. A quick scroll through the articles he has pulled up tells me all I need to know.

It's the same bullshit as always.

Party Boy Zaiden Hawthorne Strikes Again. Zaiden Hawthorne: Bar Fight, or Just Another Night? Charity vs. Pétrus — Is Zaiden the new Scrooge?

They're getting more imaginative these days, but the contents are always the same. The bar fight last night wasn't even my fault. Arlo was the one who threw a punch, I just didn't stop him.

“So what?” I ask, shoving the tablet back toward him.

My uncle sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Zade, look,” he says, his voice as weary as the look he gives me. “I love you. You’re my nephew, and you're a good kid, andyour dad had alotof faith that you'd be a good fit to take over when he passed. You're good at what you do. Your business decisions and the deals you close are the reason Hawthorne Enterprises has done so well. But the board isn't happy with you, and I can only vouch for you so much.”

I bite back the snarky comment I want to make about him not being in charge here. He’s in charge of operations, and he does see more of the day-to-day around here than I do, but I wasn’t just handed the title of CEO. I worked my ass off after graduating to prove my dad right. Pax has done a lot over the past decade, since my dad passed, to keep Hawthorne Enterprises running, but I’ve been CEO for three years now, and we’re only seeing growth. We’re a multi-billion dollar conglomerate that my dad built from the ground up. We own half of the tech companies that run New York and have at least one major operation in every borough. Hawthorne Mall in Manhattan is one of our smaller operations, and it’s the second biggest mall in the state. Out of all the big players in mergers and acquisitions, no one is on our level, and that’s because of my hard work.

The mention of the board does nothing to fix my mood. They're a bunch of whiny old cowards who’ve spent their entire careers telling other people what to do without taking on any of the risk themselves. They care about what they're paid to care about, and I'm tired of listening to them bitch. Frankly, they can all go fuck themselves.

“The board doesn't know shit about how this place actually operates,” I say acidly.

“Regardless, they're the ones who make the big calls around here,” Pax says. “They're concerned about your image. Hawthorne Enterprises isn't just about you, but you're all the media watches nowadays. The stocks are being affected, and they're not happy about it.”

“Then I’ll replace them with people who understand how a business works,” I snap. “It’s not like they’re going to vote me out, not with the profit I’m bringing in.”

“They’ve already started whispering about it, Zade!” Pax takes a deep breath, reining his temper back in. “I can only smooth things over so much. You need to fix this on your own.”

Before I can argue further, the door swings open behind us.

The absolute last person I want to see waltzes through the door, blazing red hair that clashes horribly with the light blue of his button down and a smarmy smile on his face. If I didn't love my uncle so much, I'd have kicked the kid to the curb years ago. But he, unfortunately, wants to make sure his son is taken care of, even if Landon is a smug little brat.

“Zaiden,” Landon says, my name on his tongue making disgust curl in my gut, “good to see you. I see you had a rather eventful evening. Again.”

I tilt my head in acknowledgement, but don't say anything in response. It's the closest I can get to being respectful, and I try to be civil in front of my uncle, at the very least. The little shit probably doesn’t have any reason to be here right now, but he’s made a habit of including himself in things that aren’t his business. He’s got a lot of fucking audacity for a nepo baby, waltzing in here like he owns the place, but Pax just sighs in exasperation.

He’s always been a pushover when it comes to his son.

“I've hired the top PR consultant in New York,” Pax says, drawing my attention back to him. “She’ll be here tomorrow at eleven for a meeting with the two of us and the rest of her PR team.”

I scoff in disbelief, waiting for the other shoe to drop. My uncle just stares at me, dark blue eyes both firm and pleading. My brows rise in shock when I realize he's being serious, and fury rockets through me.

“A PR meeting? You hired a fucking fixer?” I seethe, my shoulders hunching up in anger. “I'm not achild, Pax, I don't need a goddamn babysitter!”

“You sure about that?” Landon mutters under his breath, shooting me a disapproving look.

“One meeting,” Pax says loudly, cutting off the scathing response I was about to turn on Landon. “That's all I'm asking for. Go to one meeting, pay attention, and listen to what she says. Just don't give the board any more reason to be mad at you right now. Please, Zade. This is serious”

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