Page 65 of Mistletoe, Mayhem & Mr. Grump
"About manipulating me," she corrects.
"About understanding relationships!" I protest.
"To better manipulate me!" she shouts.
"Actually, that's accurate," Sterling confirms helpfully. "Manipulation through manufactured intimacy was literally in his preliminary report."
"I'm going to murder you," I inform Sterling.
"With what? Your callus? Oh wait, that's fake too. Probably drew it on," Sterling says, examining my hands with disdain.
"The callus is real!" I defend, which sounds pathetic even to me.
"One real callus doesn't make you a real person," Wren says quietly. "Get out."
"Wren, please?—"
"GET OUT!" she screams, throwing a throw pillow at my head. Then another. She has so many throw pillows.
"I'll wait in the car," Sterling says cheerfully. "We have a board meeting via video in twenty minutes. Don't be late."
He leaves, and I'm alone with Wren, who's now armed with a decorative candelabra.
"Wren, put down the candelabra," I plead.
"Why? Worried I'll damage your precious profit margins?" she asks.
"Worried you'll set yourself on fire. That's a lot of candles," I point out.
She looks around at her romantic ambiance setup and starts laughing. But it's not joyous laughter. It's the kind that comes right before crying.
"I made you lunch," she says, gesturing at the maybe-lasagna. "I used a recipe. An actual recipe. I measured things."
"I know," I say softly.
"I burned three batches before this one," she continues. "Giuseppe gave me emergency cooking lessons. Do you know how bad you have to be for Giuseppe to stage an intervention?"
"Wren—"
"I bought wine. Real wine. Not apple juice," she continues, her voice breaking. "I wanted to tell you I was falling in love with you."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "Wren?—"
"But you can't fall in love with someone who doesn't exist, can you?" She wipes her eyes angrily. "Holden Clark doesn't exist. There's just Holden Pierce, corporate spy, and I'm just another acquisition target."
"You're not a target," I insist.
"Really? What am I then?" she challenges.
"You're what I didn't know I was looking for," I say simply. "You're more than I deserve. And you're who I'm going to lose because I thought I could have both worlds."
She stares at me for a long moment. "Pretty words. Did you chart those too?"
Before I can answer, the door flies open and Delia storms in, followed by what appears to be the entire committee.
"We saw Sterling's car," she announces. "A Bentley. In Snowfall Creek. It's like seeing a unicorn, if unicorns were evil and wore Armani."
"It's not Armani, it's Brioni," Sterling calls from outside. "Much more exclusive."
