Page 60 of Santa's Baby

It’s not Creamgirl I want to be in this room tonight. It’s Tiffany.

And all Tiffany wants is to be with Reuben.

I want Reuben so bad it hurts.

Seven more days until our proposal and I wish like crazy that it was tomorrow.

I’m fucked. Really, fucking fucked. I should call my therapist for real.

But it feels so good…

I’m barely conscious by the time the session is over. The butler offers me a towel and I clean myself up. In the silence of the aftermath, he wraps me in a blanket and guides me out of this place into the hall outside. It’s 6 a.m., nobody left around bar me and him, and even though I’ve been fucked half to death,all I can do is stare at his beard, still possessed by the fragment of similarity.

“All done,” he says. “Ready for home?”

I can’t help my usual banter.

“Kinda. Could do a few more rounds, you know me.”

I swap the blanket for my coat and bag, and wait for him to get his car keys, but he doesn’t put on a coat, just looks out into the courtyard as a flash of headlights show.

“Your cab is here,” he tells me.

“My what?”

“Your cab,” he says, like it should be obvious. “You booked it, yes? We got the confirmation via the app earlier.”

I haven’t got a fucking clue what he’s talking about until he opens the door to reveal a Bentley parking up outside.

That’s no fucking cab.

My heart drops through the floor, then zooms up into the fucking sky.

It can’t be.

The driver gets out of the car and I was right. He does have a similar cut of a beard to the butler. Only better.

One billion percent fucking better.

The grin on his face makes my insides melt when he steps up to me.

“Time to go, Creamgirl,” he tells me, and links his arm in mine.

15

TIFFANY

The morning sky is still dark as Reuben leads me towards his flash Bentley. I’m so fucking tired, it’s untrue – but so excited that the adrenaline is spiking in my veins. I can’t comprehend this is happening.

I wait until we’re down the steps and out of earshot before I start firing questions at him.

“What are you doing here? Why did you come and get me? Was there some kind of Agency emergency or something? What’s going on?”

“Get in the car and I’ll explain.”

He opens the passenger door for me, and I stare at the luxury leather seat. The idea of soiling it horrifies me.

“Have you got a seat cover or something?”