Page 1 of On Santa's Lap

Chapter One

Trent

The sound ofJingle Bellsplays through the town speakers as my assistant and I make our way to the mall in the back of my SUV. When I decided to purchase it and revamp the nearly one million square footage two-story mall in Holiday Hills, I never expected to see the growth so instantaneously.

It was as if the people in town wanted to make it happen, which meant the mall’s failure was a management issue. The building nearly two years ago had been in total disrepair. Most stores had vacated the area, leaving a large rent for the remaining stores that were closing because they couldn’t afford to keep their doors open.

With an influx of cash, I was able to repair the structure and bring back stores with the promise not to raise rents for the next five years. This is the fourth mall I have restored in the past two years, and soon I’ll move on to my next corporate takeover and revitalization. It’s a career I’ve loved all my life. At thirty-two, the only thing I’ve devoted myself to is revitalizing my state and helping rebuild the towns in them.

All the storefronts have opened up and are running just as the holiday season rolls in, and the revenue stream is flying in. In no time, the venture will have paid for itself.

“Mr. Nicholas, the mall manager, would like to speak with you urgently,” my assistant Dennis says, lifting his head up from his phone.

“Tell her I’ll meet with her the second I get some coffee and settle into my office.” My head’s pounding this morning, and I’m not ready to deal with her overly anxious concerns.

Marianne Sellers is incredibly brilliant and professional; however, she brings every issue to me while already having the solution in hand. It’s as if she’s waiting for my approval, which I find a waste of my valuable time.

“I’ll let her know.” He shoots a text back to her as we sit in the back of my SUV.

I check my phone because work is never done, and neither is family life. A set of texts from my mother hits my phone. She usually isn’t up this early, but she knows this is when she’ll likely get a quick response from me.

Good morning, darling. I hope I haven’t woken you up.She knows she hasn’t, but she’s polite because the next messages lead to what she wants.

Are you coming for Christmas dinner?

If she weren’t hounding me for a wife, the answer would be a yes.I can’t say for certain. The new mall has me working all hours.

Always work. You need to consider whom you’re working to leave it all for.

I know. I know. Love you.

She wants the best for me, but I haven’t found the woman I want to marry. Besides, she’ll just have some heiresses to mention that are just the right kind of women for me to settle down with. I’m not interested in making a family anytime soon.

Thankfully, my mother stopped having those women just accidentally pop by to wish us a Merry Christmas because that became very annoying, and I had to tell her I’ll stay single forever if she pulled that stunt again. It’s been a quiet two years without any doorbells going off in the middle of dinner.

I take this long drive to work to handle other matters, including the many emails filling my inbox, making myself as efficient as possible. Still, it also puts me in a bad mood when I step out of the vehicle. Many people want answers when they should be taking time off themselves for the holidays.

The mall doesn’t open for another four hours, so we have time to handle any hiccups, and tomorrow we have a big to do, so as long as the problem isn’t with our Santa’s North Pole Village, we set up, I can manage it easily.

My temporary office is set up on the second floor of the building toward the front of the building, where I can observe everything that happens from the overhang in the middle. Dennis hands me my coffee, and the door opens with the mall manager looking professionally frazzled. Her suit looks rumpled, and her face is missing its usual makeup. It’s clear that whatever is on her mind is a big damn deal.

Marianne is waiting for me the second I have my coffee in hand and in my seat. “Okay, what is the major problem that couldn’t wait for you to knock?”

“Our Santa is a registered sex offender.” Her face pales as the words leave her lips.

“What the fuck?” I shoot out of my chair, sending my coffee cup tumbling onto the desk. Luckily, I spring forward, catching it before it ruins all the documents on my desk.

“Yes, I told you it was super important.” She brushes her curly loose strands back behind her ears.

“You should have led with that.”

“I had him pulled last night when Mrs. Claus alerted us quietly after the dress rehearsal, but apparently, the agency that sent him hadn’t done a background check, and he hadn’t revealed his status to the agency either. She quit as well.”

“I want my lawyer called on this now, Dennis.” Son of a bitch. This could get us in big trouble. I look back at Marianne and ask, “Please don’t tell me this sick fuck was a pedo.”

“Unfortunately.” I slam my eyes shut, wishing this was whiskey and not coffee right now.

At least we had the good grace to have a dress rehearsal yesterday, and this happened before the kids appeared. “God. We almost let him go around all those kids.”

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