Page 60 of Noel
Chapter19
Noel
Professional jealousy isn’t something I’d considered when trying to figure out the “why” behind all this.
But watching Holly politely—and tastefully—tear her boss a new asshole?
Yeah.I have to admit, it’s looking like a damn good motive.
Carly’s smile has been glued on so tight for the last half hour I’m surprised it hasn’t cracked off and hit the floor.
Ambrose can’t stop stealing glances at my girl.And it’s pissing me off.
So, yeah, I growl a little from where I’m standing in the corner of the room, making him jump and drop his coffee mug—which really puts me in the holiday mood if I do say so myself.
I mean, it’s practically a gift, watching that pencil dick shit himself.
Serves him right, the prick.He has no business checking out Tinsel like that.
And Darlene?First, she tries to catch my attention, flipping her hair and batting her overly done up eyes at me.But I don’t even glance.Why would I?
After all the bullshit, once Holly starts showing them her updated notes—not on the whiteboard they stole from her locked office—they both look like they’d rather be anywhere else.
And Holly?
She’s handling it all like a queen.
Smart.Steady.Sharp as hell.
And of course, gorgeous as fuck.
She’s got a notebook in one hand and her new phone—courtesy of Sigma International Security—in the other as she calmly and precisely corrects every single half-assed assumption these people make about her work.
She doesn’t raise her voice.Doesn’t get flustered.Doesn’t break.
But I see the tension in her shoulders.The micro-tremble in her fingers.
The effort it takes to keep her chin high while Carly tiptoes around phrases likeyou’ve been under a lot of stress,andI just didn’t want the event to fall apart.
What she means is,I saw a shot to take credit for something that wasn’t mine, and I took it.
It takes about an hour to get these clowns up to speed—an hour Holly shouldn't have had to spend justifying the fact that she built this event from the ground up.
Every table, every vendor, every contingency plan.All hers.
And she does it with class.
But if I didn’t have a badge and a badge number—all Sigma employees do,essential for identification, access control, security, and for signifying authority—I’d happily commit a felony in defense of her name right now.
She’s smart as a fucking whip, and she’s right—no one knows this gala like she does.
“Are you sure the florist can manage that one-time install for the mirrored sculpture before the cocktail hour?”Ambrose asks, condescending like she didn’t already handle it three vendors ago.
Soft hands.No scars.He reeks of the kind of guy who uses words like synergy and thinks sending a DoorDash gift card counts as team building.
“Yes,” Holly says, flat.
One word.That’s all she gives him.
