Page 30 of Dirty Little Christmas

I've never let myself think of her as anything more than a light in the dark before today. God, I'm not a complete fucking cretin. But she's always been with me in some way. Remembering her laughter soothes me. Remembering her smile eases the restlessness in my soul. I can't fucking explain it, so I never tried.

I never thought I'd see her again, either…not until I opened that folder and saw her photo staring up at me. She's grown up. Hell, she's grown into an absolute beauty. Her sky-blue eyes and porcelain skin make her seem angelic. But those curves were made for sin.

Why is she pretending to be her sister?

It's a mystery I'd very much like to solve.

I turn from the windows, striding back to my desk to thumb through her application again. None of the information inside matches anything I know about her. Her name, her birthday…it's all wrong. The only part of her that's real is the photo.

The intercom connecting me to Ruby's desk buzzes.

"Is she on the way?" I demand, stabbing the talkback button.

"No. She's busy with HR. It'll be at least an hour before she can get up here."

"Dammit."

"Don't you curse at me, Alaric James Parrish," Ruby says, outrage in her voice. "You'll be answering your own damn phones today."

"Shit. Sorry." I grimace, shoving a hand through my hair. I need to calm the fuck down before Ruby kicks my ass and then sends Blaze to do the same thing. "Just send her up when she's done." I pause. "And why don't you order lunch from that Thai place you like today? My treat."

"Well, now you're being reasonable," Ruby sniffs, making me smile. "Have a good morning, dear."

I release the intercom button, staring blankly at the wall. And then I mutter a curse and slip out of my office to go talk to Blaze. If December is pretending to be Jillian, I don't want him firing her before I have a chance to find out why.

"We have a fox in the henhouse," I announce, stomping into his office.

"Who the fuck is messing with our designers?" Blaze asks, his brows pulling down into a severe scowl as he lifts his dark head from his computer. With the bank of windows at his back, a wall of clouds frame him as if he's Zeus resting high up on Mt. Olympus. "If he's sexually harassing them, get his sorry ass out of here, Alaric."

"What? Who said anything about anyone being sexually harassed?" I throw myself into a chair across from his desk, convinced he's hearing shit.

"You did."

"I did not. I said we have a fox in the henhouse."

"Which means there's a predator on the loose amongst prey," Blaze says.

"Okay, so clearly that doesn't mean what I thought it meant," I mutter, scrubbing a hand across my chin. I just thought it meantthere was something unusual going on, like the fox was in there making friends or some shit. Clearly I've never lived on a farm.

My older brother sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't even want to know what you thought it meant."

Well, damn. He's a grumpy bastard today. Not that I'm surprised. He has been ever since our new model, Georgia Dillard, came to work for us. He's in love with her, which would be funny to watch if he weren't so fucking irritable about it. He needs to handle his business and claim her already, but he's being stubborn about it. Sooner or later, he's going to snap.

I hope I'm around to see it when it happens. She's been doing everything in her power to get him there. It's obvious she's in love with him too. They dance around each other like they're doing the fucking Nutcracker.

"We have a stage player in our midst."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Blaze asks. "And stop speaking in riddles."

"I was speaking in idioms."

"Don't do that either," he mutters, leaning back in his executive chair with his arms crossed. He pins me with a hard stare. "Some of us actually have work to do."

"I work," I protest, smirking at him from the opposite side of his desk. He loves to give me shit about not doing anything around here, and I love to pretend I don't do shit around here, but we both know this place would fall the fuck apart without me.

Blaze isn't good with people. He handles the business shit. I keep our people happy and schmooze with the best of them. I know every employee by name. I know who is in the building and who is taking time off. I know who works better under pressure and who needs stress kept to a minimum. Every deal we've signed, I've helped cultivate.

"Work more, annoy me less," he grumbles.