Page 43 of The Crush of Christmas Past
“The founder’s grandsons are talentless parasites who turned abusing three-letter titles into a full-time sport.” I grind my teeth so hard I’m surprised my jaw doesn’t crack. “While I was there, they made a game of breaking in new recruits, betting on who could corrupt them in the most twisted ways. Drugs. Parties. Fake mentorships that fast-tracked to sexual harassment. Nothing was off-limits. Their last name made them untouchable. And the constant churn of entry-level hires helped to cover their tracks.”
Asher’s grimace deepens, and I see the wheels turning in his head. “AdCraft is a global firm. Don’t they have a Human Resources department to protect its employees?”
I scoff. “HR folds the second bloodlines get involved—especially when that blood flows straight back to the man with majority control. A pig who thinks board meetings are beneath him and policies are optional guidelines for peasants.”
My brother’s eyes widen. He slides a hand over his cheek, exhaling like he’s just been slapped. “Is that why you’ve been begging me to convince Isla to give your firm a chance?”
“I want her out of there, Ash.”
“Well, she’s actually—” He stops, abruptly changing direction. “Never mind. You need to talk to her.Reallytalk to her.”
He scans our surroundings, zoning in on the direction of Isla and Willow’s faint chatter. “It’s time, Theo. There are too many things left unsaid. If you wait any longer, someone else will come along and say them for you. And, next time, it won’t be fake. It’ll be real. Permanent.” Stepping into my line of sight, he grips my arm, tugging at it. “What the hell is stopping you?”
The truth claws its way out in one exhaled word. “Fear.”
Fear that six years of distance has made me too late. Fear of finally getting what I want and not knowing what to do with it. Fear of losing her—again.
Asher slaps a hand on my back. “Since when has that bastard ever had a shot against you?”
As he strides away, the forest falls into an eerie silence. And that’s when Isla’s laugh breaks through, its sweet melody carried on the wind.
I clench my fists. Enough. I’ve waited long enough.
Fuck fear.
Fifteen
Isla
Something’soff…
I’m sprawled across Asher’s bed, tapping my stylus against my bottom lip as I glare at the sketch on my tablet.
Damn it.It’s still not right.
Over the past three hours, I’ve reworked the Valentine’s Day promo for Patel’s Petals more times than I care to admit. Record-breaking number of times, really.
And yet…it’s still missingit.
Mrs. Patel wants sweet, sexy, and seductive—something to make customers swoon over the holiday. She’s given me full creative freedom with a stipulation that the images work well for both printand social media.
It should be easy money. Quick work. In another life, it would even be fun. Too badfunis hard to achieve in survival mode.
However, instead of breezing through the project like I usually do, I’m stuck. My mock-ups are stale. The concepts flat. They lack the punch, the sparkle, the energy I’m used to wielding.
AdCraft didn’t just take my job. They fucked with my passion. Cut down my confidence. Trampled on my self-worth and dared me to keep working through the abuse.
Deep down, I know I can’t let them win. I’m certain I’ll get past this. The question is when? How long?
When do I stop feeling like a placeholder in my own success story?
How long until the life I’m fighting for is wholly mine?
I toss my tablet aside and collapse against a mountain of pillows with a groan. The mattress springs let out a squeaky protest as I sink down, and the gingerbread candle on the nightstand flickers. Its sugary scent swirls through the room, stirring with the motion I’ve caused. My favorite smell typically fills me with a soothing type of solace. Today, it just amplifies the frustration gnawing at my chest.
I’m unsettled. Off-kilter.
Exhaling sharply, I try to lose myself in counting the glow-in-the-dark stars on Asher’s ceiling, but my gaze drifts to the undecorated tree in the corner. Its bare branches mock me, their emptiness a stark reminder of the task I’ve been avoiding all week.
