Page 56 of Dirty Little Christmas

Whether he intended to do it or not, he's spent years convincing her that she isn't good enough. His carelessness hurt her deeply in ways I don't think he even understood until today. He's been too goddamn busy with his career to notice the daughters he's been slowly destroying. And it's not just December. He's been doing the same thing to Jillian, albeit in a different way.

She's had to watch her father slowly pick apart the one person she loves more than anyone. She's been treated one way while her best friend was treated another by the man sworn to protect them both. I can’t imagine that's been any easier for her than it has been for December.

"You're right," December sighs.

"Come here."

She burrows into my arms, pressing her face to my chest. I hold her close, just enjoying the feel of her pressed to my heart where she belongs.

"I love you," I remind her.

"I love you too."

"I'm taking you somewhere for Christmas."

She tilts her head back to look up at me. "Where?"

"You'll see," I say, smiling. "We leave tomorrow afternoon."

"I can't leave tomorrow! I have to work."

"Angel, you're sleeping with the owner. You can do whatever the hell you want."

"Don't say that," she says, wrinkling her nose at me. "You make it sound bad."

I smirk, pressing my lips to her ear. "When I get you home, I fully intend to show you how bad it is, December."

"Alaric?"

December and I both turn toward the door to find Sariah standing in the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Concern shoots through me.

"Sariah? What's wrong?"

"I…I think my older brother and his friends broke into your warehouse last night," she whispers, tears welling in her eyes. "They stole hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of clothing from you."

"Oh, no," December whispers.

Chapter Fifteen

December

"Is Sariah okay?" I ask, jumping to my feet as soon as Alaric walks in the front door.

"Yeah," he sighs, tossing his keys toward the credenza table. "She's fine, angel." He rakes a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "She told the detective everything. I doubt we'll get any of the shit back that they stole, but it is what it is."

I cross the living room to him, pushing my way into his arms. "I'm sorry."

He presses his lips to my forehead. "She's afraid we're going to fire her."

"Poor Sariah," I whisper. I thought my family was screwed up, but I guess we all have our own crosses to bear and our own dysfunctional families. This time of year is supposed to bring out the best in people, but sometimes, it seems like it has the opposite effect.

"We aren't firing her," Alaric murmurs. "The thought never even crossed my mind."

"Good. She's an amazing designer."

"Yeah, she is." He runs his hand down my back to slip it under my shirt. "I've been thinking about something your stepfather said this morning."

I've been thinking about a lot of things he said this morning. I'm still not sure where to fit them or how I feel about them. But I think I'm...hopeful. Maybe that makes me naive. I don't know. But I want to believe that he meant what he said. I want to believe that he's proud of me and that I'm good enough for him exactly the way I am. Because I'm tired of trying to be something I'm not. All I want to be now is happy.