Page 2 of Tempted By December

"I don't go to jail," I mumble.

"Exactly."

"You should never go into politics or motivational speaking. You suck at it."

She rolls her eyes at me, flopping down on her bed on her back. That lasts for all of two seconds before she pops back up, curling one leg beneath her. "I'm serious, December. If none of your worst-case scenarios happen, at the end of winter break, you have three full weeks of working with Alaric Parrish under your belt. That'sthree weeksto show him what you're made of and prove that you deserve a spot at his company. Once he sees your designs, he won't freaking care that you aren't me."

I hesitate, torn. She's swaying me to the dark side, just like always. No matter how terrible her ideas are, she always manages to sway me because she makes them sound so darn compelling. I'm a sucker, honestly.

"You really think I'm that good?"

"Uh, hello?" She bounds to her feet and does a pirouette so the asymmetrical hem of her red and white dress swishes around her legs. "You've been dressing me exclusively since we were sixteen! And everyone around here thinks I'm fashionable."

"You are fashionable." I smile.

"Yeah, because of your designs!"

I chew on my bottom lip, positive this will blow up in my face. But I want this. I want it so freaking bad. It's been six years, and I've never forgotten about Alaric or quit dreaming about him. He's still the only man who makes my heart race or my entire body clench with desire. I want to see him again, even if it's only to convince myself that I'm a long-forgotten memory to him.

"I'll do it," I say, squaring my shoulders.

Jillian squeals.

Chapter Two

Alaric

"Whatthefuckisthis?" I growl, dropping an application on Ruby's desk.

She glances up from her computer screen, fixating her wizened eyes on me over the wire rims of her bifocals. "It's the application packet for our newest intern, Alaric," she says, speaking as if I'm slow. "You told me to hire someone to help out through the holiday season. I hired Jillian Rhett."

No, she didn't hire Jillian Rhett. Because the raven-haired beauty with the big, guileless blue eyes staring up from the photo is December Rhett. I know because I met December six years ago. It was the same week Ma was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer.

My world felt like it was crashing to the ground, and this little ball of light stepped out of the darkness to offer me hope. She made me laugh when nothing else did, and then she sent flowers when Ma died less than a year later. I haven't seen her since that night in the garden, but whenever I need a little light in my life, my mind inevitably drifts to her.

"When does she start?"

"She started this morning." Ruby purses her lips and shakes her poufy gray head. "Honestly, Alaric. I sent everything in an email, like you asked. If you'd clean out that nightmare of an inbox once in a while, you might be able to find things. I don't see how you accomplish anything."

Her diatribe makes me smile. Ruby went to work for Daphne Parrish & Co when my mom opened the doors two decades ago. She still forgets that I'm not the same impish little boy who used to run through the building raising hell. Forget reminding her that I own a fifty percent stake. She doesn't give a shit. As far as she's concerned, age trumps all that nonsense. She's as likely to tell me to do something myself as she is to do it for me.

But she'll always have a place here. She's family. My older brother Blaze and I treat everyone here the same way. We may run one of the most prestigious fashion lines in the world, but the people who come to work here are the most valuable assets we've got. They're what make this company what it is.

"And the girl in the photo is the one who started this morning? You're certain of that?"

"Yes. I met her in the lobby myself. Sweet girl." Ruby smiles, a grandmotherly, affectionate smile. She likes her. "She's very quiet."

"Can you send her to my office, please?"

"Why?" Ruby gives me the side-eye, suspicion glittering in the blue depths. "If this is because she's the mayor's daughter…."

"Fuck the mayor," I growl.

"Alaric James!" Ruby chides, though I don't miss the way her lips twitch. She doesn't like the pompous prick either. He's a career politician. Every move he makes is to protect his precious image and curry favor with his base. He has no opinions that aren't filtered through his party and what's likely to win him an election. I have no patience for men with no spine.

"I'll play nice," I grit out, snatching December's—or Jillian's—file from Ruby's desk. The designs inside are exceptional, whichever of the sisters created them. "Just send her to my office, Ruby."

"Fine, but I'm telling your brother that you're causing problems with the mayor again!"

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