Page 21 of His Christmas Wife

This was the implacable man she knew so well.

In under five minutes, she’d reclaimed her bag, changed shoes, and he was maneuvering her toward the exit. Once again, he was in total control.

At the reception desk, Destiny stopped them to offer her thanks. “You were both amazing. I’ve heard rave reviews about Santa and his elf.” She studied them both. “Seems like you make a great team.”

Did they?

“It was my pleasure.” Though Frost had responded to Destiny, he’d kept his gaze trained on Kaylee.

Being the object of his total attention gave her an illicit thrill.

After taking a breath, she responded to Destiny. “I had fun. Please thank Milady for thinking of me.”

“Now that you did so well, I’m sure she’ll be asking you to do it again next year.”

The idea plummeted her thoughts into freefall.

Where would she be a year from now? And how would she deal with Frost after they’d shared this experience.

“Shall we?”

His question dragged her back to reality.

Placing his hand possessively on her back, he guided her toward the stairs.

Outside, an oversize SUV with beautiful sleek lines waited at the curb. The back door stood open, and a chauffeur—complete with a black cap—waited.

Frost led her straight toward the vehicle.

Of course he had a private driver. Though the realization didn’t surprise her, it was a jolting reminder of the differences between their backgrounds. He was wealthy beyond belief while she struggled to pay her bills.

She couldn’t allow herself to forget, even for a moment, that what was happening was nothing more than make believe.

Once she was sealed inside the vehicle with its butter-soft leather seats, he slid in beside her and uncapped a chilled bottle of water that was waiting in a cup holder. “Drink some of this.”

Every day at work, she spent her hours catering to his whims. And yet this evening, he’d met her every desire.

He was complex enough to be unfathomable.

Still, because it gave her something to do with her hands, she accepted the bottle.

The drive to her small apartment on the outskirts of the city took much less time than it did during the week. But instead of dropping her at the entrance to her complex, Frost instructed the driver to park in a loading zone—not that it mattered at this time of the night.

The driver jogged around to open the door. “Thank you,” she told the man. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Jennings, ma’am.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Jennings. I appreciate the ride.”

“A pleasure, ma’am.” He doffed his hat.

Frost grabbed her bag and walked her up the stairs and to her door.

“Thank you for an enjoyable evening, Ms. Robbins.”

“Thank you…” At the club, calling him Sir had been natural, but now it would be odd.

“Are you an early riser?”

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