Page 13 of A Stolen Christmas

He stared at me for a few beats before he answered.

“You're really serious about her, aren't you?”

“Duh,” I muttered, not my best comeback, but this morning had not been good for my equilibrium. The only plus was spending time with the woman I had been obsessed with for the past one hundred and twenty-nine days.

“If I were you, I would buy a few books to prepare yourself. How did you manage to become her neighbour?” he asked as we stepped out of the lift.

I smiled. “Wouldn't you like to know?”

“I would. That's why I asked you, dumbass.”

I chuckled as the stress of him blowing my cover was over.

Chapter 9

Sirah

I stared at Winthorpe Industries' website page. Saul worked eight floors above me—a global management consulting firm that had a recent merger with Decoseers International. The Winthorpe twins were billionaires who had moved into my building four years ago. I’d never seen either of them once.

“Oh, double trouble. Who are these hotties?”

I quickly minimised the screen that displayed Seth and Saul’s cheesy picture before I faced Beth. Although I couldn’t deny that they did look like they should be half naked, oiled up, and on a calendar for women with a twin fetish.

“They’re both married,” I blurted out, not liking the idea of women ogling them like they were fine pieces of meat.

“Shame. Why are all the good ones taken?” she sighed before she rolled her chair away.

It was a half lie. Seth was married, but Saul was single. They were thirty-six years old, and their father had started their company. I guess billionaires were normal people, after all. I never once got the vibe that Saul was conceited, as many affluent people were prone to do so.

It seemed bizarre that I lived and worked beside a billionaire. My cheeks heated up as I recalled how protective he had been as we huddled together on the Tube this morning. It was kind of sweet or creepy, and I couldn't decide which was more appropriate.

I opened up my drawer for the leaflets on the new property fund that I would pitch as part of a pension package later. I could finish my Google search on Saul’s ass when I was on my lunch break. There were too many eyes in my office.

∞∞∞

I was disappointed when I got home to see Saul’s Christmas lights twinkling away, but the lights in the house were all switched off. I climbed up my black metal stairs only to see the mistletoe dangling between our properties. I recalled his words from this morning.

A man can dream.

The stems of the mistletoe had a red ribbon wrapped around it. I reached up to see if it was fresh or plastic, but when I touched the cool leaves, I could tell it was fresh. At this point, I would need to set up a spreadsheet to capture a sweet or creepy point system for Saul.

“Good evening.”

I screeched and grabbed onto the railing. He caught me red-handed, touching up his mistletoe.

“Oh shit,” he said as he rushed toward me. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“Sorry, I was just checking if it was plastic or not,” I mumbled but couldn't quite meet his eyes.

“You can touch my mistletoe anytime you want,” he said, making me glance at him. He was at eye level with me because he was on my stairs.

“Saul, I've just got divorced. I’m not interested in anything at the moment. It was rough,” I said quietly.

“I’m sure you are better and stronger for it,” he said solemnly.

I smiled wryly. “It doesn't feel that way.”

“You have three weeks to make good use of my mistletoe,” he said with a mischievous grin.

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