Page 43 of Christmas with the Denton Billionaires

The curvy woman spoke quietly as she reached for a binder that had colored sticky notes as tabs down the side. “I was going off the master plan that was approved by the client.”

“I don’t care. I want you to do it my way.” The woman grabbed the binder, yanking it from the woman’s hands, and flung it across the floor.

“Ma’am, if you would please lower your voice,” Patrick said and she turned on him. Fury was rolling off her in waves and she stomped her foot.

“Do not tell me what to do! I’ve had it with incompetent workers.” Her phone rang, her ringtone as shrill as she was. Pulling her phone from her—bra?—she answered it. “What? No, Clarissa, you can’t leave. That is unacceptable. Of course I know there’s a snowstorm coming, but I pay you to take care of my boys and I expect you to do as you’re told. Just put on an extra sweater and take them for their walk.”

What the hell? Is she talking about kids or dogs? Please let it be dogs, Mitch prayed.

She shoved her phone back in her bra and turned back to her employee. Just as she was about to start screaming again, Mitch intervened.

“Ladies. While I realize this is a stressful time for everyone, can I please ask you to keep your voices down? We can hear you on the other side of the lobby.” And that was the wrong thing to say.

The loud woman got in his face, and her finger would have stabbed him in his chest if he hadn’t taken a step back to avoid contact. “Look, I don’t know who the fuck you are or why you’re bothering me, but you need to back away. You’re inmypersonal space.”

The woman continued to advance on him, so he stopped moving and she got within inches of him as she continued to shout. Patrick stepped up right behind him and said quietly, “I’ve alerted security. They’re on their way.”

“What did you say?” the woman demanded.

Mitch ignored her, sidestepping her stabby finger so he could see what was going on while Patrick attempted to speak with her. Big Apple Events hadn’t been his choice of vendor for the gala, which meant his father had overridden his decision and in typical Mitchell Denton Senior fashion, hadn’t bothered to tell him. He should have expected it but given that this year’s event was to include a big announcement, he was annoyed that his father had brought in someone new. He’d lay odds that it was too late to hire someone else.

Looking around at the mess, Mitch could see that only half of the traditional decorations used every year had been brought up from the basement and he could already tell that the life-size nutcrackers that would normally guard the entrance to the ballroom had sustained some damage.

The other woman, who also decided to ignore the screechy one, was attempting to reshape what had looked like one of his mother’s favorite angels, which would hang over the nativity scene. One of the wings was no longer attached and she gave him an apologetic look.

She spoke quietly. “I know this looks bad, but these are amazing decorations and I’m sure most of this damage is fixable.”

“But it won’t be by you. You’re fired.” The screechy woman yanked the angel from her hands and tossed it to the ground. Before the woman could say more, her phone rang again and she tapped to answer the call. “What is it now, Clarissa? No. I don’t care. Just do what I pay you to do.”

She continued to rant at the person on the phone while Mitch thought fast. He turned back to the other woman who looked as though she was fighting back tears as she reached for the angel again. He spotted the binder and picked it up off the floor where it lay open. Leafing through it quickly, he was surprised at how comprehensive it was. There were neat printouts of layouts of the ballroom along with the lobby and the large rotunda that graced the entrance to the hotel. He practically salivated at the color-coded breakdown for the decorating along with a timeline for everything that would need to take place before the event.

Scanning the pages, he was impressed with all the work that went into it. He recognized the layout, which was what they used every year, but there were some subtle differences.

"Who did this?” he asked tilting the binder up. The screechy woman strode over and attempted to pull the binder away but Mitch wasn’t giving it up. Sidestepping her again, he held tight as she glared at him while still talking on the phone. He couldn’t believe that woman created this, which meant it belonged to the other woman. That gave him an idea.

Blowing out a breath, he fought his increasing frustration. Snapping the binder shut, he handed it to the other woman. “Hold onto this and don’t move.” Then turning to the woman on the phone, he calmly said, “Get off the phone. Get your stuff and go.”

She glared at him but had the sense to tell the person she’d call them back. Squeezing her phone, she advanced on him. “What did you say?”

“I said you’re fired. Take your stuff and get out. Your services won’t be needed.” He’d had enough of her behavior, and it ended now.

“What? You can’t fire me. Who the fuck do you think you are?” the woman screeched again. Apparently she only had one volume level, and Mitch wanted her out of his hotel before she gave him a migraine.

“Mitch Denton, and you’re inmyhotel. Well. Not for much longer.”

The woman froze and Mitch knew right when she realized who she was screaming at, but then it was immediately masked by a fake plastic smile. “I wouldn’t be so hasty. Your father is the one who hired my firm and there’s no way you’ll be able to bring anyone else in before the gala. How about if we pretend none of this ever happened?” She reached out to run her fingers down the sleeve of his suit jacket but Mitch shrugged her off.

Turning to the other woman, he pointed at the binder. “Did you do all that work?” At her nod, he smiled. “Good. How would you like to remain to oversee the setup for the gala? You’ll be heavily compensated for your time.”

She clutched the binder to her chest and smiled. “I’d like that.”

Rubbing his hands together. “Excellent.” Then turning back to the other woman, he said, “As you can see, Ihavereplaced you.”

The woman looked like she would argue again, but then she got a malevolent look on her face. “Fine. I’ll leave, but don’t expect a refund on your deposit.” Turning to the other woman, she snapped her fingers. “Give me your shirt.”

The woman’s eyes rounded as she stared at her, pulling the binder tighter against her chest. “Are you kidding me? Miranda, I can’t take my shirt off here. I’ll drop it off at the office.”

Miranda’s eyes turned to slits as she smirked. “No. If you plan on staying here, you will not be representing Big Apple Events. Shirt. Now.”

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