Christmas with a Bad Boy (Feuding Hearts Christmas)

11. You Deserve It

ELEVEN

YOU DESERVE IT

SARAIYAH

I step into Ruth's Brew and stop dead in my tracks. The place is transformed. Gleaming espresso machines line the counter, their chrome surfaces catching the morning light. The scent of fresh paint mingles with coffee, and I run my hand along the smooth, newly refinished bar top.

"What the hell?" I mutter, taking it all in.

Jamal pops his head out from the back room, grinning. "Morning, boss! Pretty sweet, huh?"

I nod, still stunned. "When did all this happen?"

"Delivery guys were here at dawn. Said it was all taken care of."

My stomach flips. Zale. It has to be.

I move behind the counter, familiarizing myself with the new equipment. It's top-of-the-line stuff, the kind I've only dreamed about affording. As I fiddle with the settings on the espresso machine, my mind races.

Part of me wants to be angry. I didn't ask for this. I don't need his charity. But another part... another part of me is touched. He remembered. All those times I complained about our ancient equipment, how much easier things would be with an upgrade. He listened.

The bell above the door chimes, and I look up, half-expecting to see Zale. Instead, it's our first customer of the day. I paste on a smile and get to work, pushing thoughts of Zale aside for now.

The day flies by in a blur of customers and coffee. By closing time, I'm exhausted but exhilarated. The new machines are a dream to work with, and our regulars have been raving about the improved quality.

As I'm wiping down the counter, the door opens. My heart skips when I see Zale standing there, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever in a tailored suit.

"We're closed," I say, my voice coming out huskier than I intended.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him. "I know. I just wanted to see how things went today."

I straighten up, crossing my arms. "You mean with all the fancy new equipment you snuck in here?"

Zale has the decency to look a little sheepish. "I thought it might help."

"Help what, exactly?" I challenge, even as my traitorous body responds to his nearness.

He takes a step closer, and I catch a whiff of his cologne. It's intoxicating. "Help make your life a little easier," he says softly. "You work so hard, Saraiyah. You deserve the best tools for the job."

I swallow hard, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. "I appreciate the gesture, Zale. But I can't accept?—"

"You can," he interrupts. "And you will. Consider it an investment in the business."

I raise an eyebrow. "An investment?"

He nods, his blue eyes intense. "I believe in you, Saraiyah. In what you're building here. Let me help."

The sincerity in his voice chips away at my resolve. I want to stay angry, to push him away. But looking into his eyes, I see the man beneath the billionaire facade. The man who's trying, in his own way, to make things right.

"Fine," I concede. "But this doesn't change anything between us."

A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "Of course not."

We stand there for a moment, the air between us charged with unspoken tension. I'm acutely aware of every inch of space separating us, of the way his gaze roams over my face.

"I should go," I say, breaking the spell. "Long day tomorrow."

Zale nods, taking a step back. "Let me drive you home."

I open my mouth to refuse, but something stops me. Maybe it's the earnestness in his eyes, or maybe I'm just too tired to argue. "Okay," I hear myself say.

The ride to my apartment is quiet, but not uncomfortable. I steal glances at Zale's profile as he drives, admiring the strong line of his jaw, the way his hands grip the steering wheel. When we pull up in front of my building, neither of us moves to get out.

"Thank you," I say softly. "For the ride. And... everything else."

Zale turns to look at me, his expression unreadable. "You're welcome, Saraiyah."

For a moment, I think he might lean in, might close the distance between us. My heart races at the thought. But then he's opening his door, coming around to open mine.

As I step out of the car, our bodies brush against each other. The touch sends a surge through me, and I must stifle a shiver. Zale's hand comes to rest on the small of my back as he walks me to the door, and I'm hyperaware of the heat of his palm through my thin shirt.

At my door, I turn to face him. "Goodnight, Zale."

He looks down at me, his eyes dark with an emotion I can't quite name. "Goodnight, Saraiyah," he murmurs.

I unlock my door and step inside, my heart pounding. As I close it behind me, I lean against it, closing my eyes. What am I doing? This man turned my world upside down, nearly cost me everything. So why does being near him feel so right?

I push off the door and head to my bedroom, determined to put Zale out of my mind. But as I drift off to sleep, his face is the last thing I see.

The next morning, I arrive at Ruth's Brew early, eager to get a head start on the day. But as I unlock the door, I'm greeted by the sound of hammering and sawing coming from my office.

"What now?" I mutter, hurrying to investigate.

I push open the office door and stop short. The tiny, cluttered space has been completely transformed. Fresh paint, new furniture, and a state-of-the-art computer setup greet me. In the center of it all stands Zale, sleeves rolled up, looking decidedly un-billionaire-like as he hangs a framed photo on the wall.

He turns at the sound of the door, a sheepish grin on his face. "Surprise?"

I shake my head, torn between exasperation and amusement. "Zale, what are you doing?"

He sets down the hammer. The gesture is so endearingly human, so at odds with his usual polished appearance, that it makes my heart skip.

"I thought you could use a proper workspace," he says. "Something befitting the CEO of a thriving business."

I step further into the room, running my hand along the smooth surface of the new desk. It's beautiful, all sleek lines and rich wood. "This is too much," I say, but there's no real heat behind the words.

Zale moves closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Nothing's too much for you, Saraiyah," he says softly.

I look up at him, my breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. For a moment, we just stand neither speaking or acknowledging that this thing with us is far from over.

Then the front door chimes, signaling Jamal's arrival, and the spell is broken.

I clear my throat, taking a step back. "I should get out there," I say, gesturing vaguely towards the front of the shop.

Zale nods, his expression unreadable. "Of course. I'll finish up in here."

As I head out to start the day, my mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Gratitude for Zale's generosity wars with my stubborn pride. And underneath it all, a current of desire that grows stronger with each passing day.

The rest of the week passes in a blur of surprises and stolen moments. Each day brings a new improvement to Ruth's Brew. A shiny new sign out front, replacing the faded one that's hung there for decades. Gleaming new windows that let in more light than I thought possible. Even a charming outdoor seating area, perfect for the warmer months.

And every night, without fail, Zale is there to drive me home. Our rides are filled with a tension so thick I can almost taste it. We talk about the shop, about my plans for the future, about everything and nothing. But underneath it all is an undercurrent of something more, something neither of us is quite ready to name.

As the week draws to a close, I find myself both dreading and anticipating our nightly rides. I'm torn between my growing feelings for Zale and the voice in my head that warns me to be careful, to protect my heart.

I step into Ruth's Brew on Christmas Eve, the familiar scent of coffee and something new pine fills my senses. I freeze at the sight of a massive Christmas tree standing in the corner, its branches dripping with ornaments and twinkling lights.

My breath catches as I move closer. There, nestled among the glittering bulbs, are the ornaments from my childhood. The faded paper angel I made in kindergarten. The wooden soldier missing an arm that Grandma Ruth always insisted added character. And the delicate glass ballerina that was my most prized possession growing up.

Tears prick my eyes as I gently touch each one, memories flooding back. How did Zale...?

Then I spot them—the new ornaments, each one more meaningful than the last.

A steaming mug of coffee, a nod to this place. A tiny potted plant, a reminder of my love of plants greenery. And a beautiful ceramic figurine, an African woman with her head thrown back in laughter.

I remember mentioning that to Zale once, how I longed for art that celebrated the joy and resilience of Black women. And here it is, immortalized in this perfect little sculpture.

My fingers tremble as I caress the ornament, overcome with emotion. Zale listened. To every word, every passing comment about my hopes and dreams. And he wove them all into this breathtaking display.

The last shred of resistance in my heart melts away. I'm in love with this man—truly, deeply in love. Not just with his grand gestures or his wealth, but with the beautiful soul that shines through in moments like these.

The bell above the door jingles, and I turn to see Zale standing there, a soft smile on his face.

"Merry Christmas, Saraiyah," he says simply.

I cross the room in three strides and throw my arms around him, holding him tight.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "For seeing me. All of me."

His arms tighten around my waist, and I feel him press a tender kiss to my forehead. "You're everything, my love," he murmurs.

In his embrace, surrounded by the reminders of our journey, I know without a doubt that this love is real.

Zale isn't just a chapter in my story—he's the whole damn book. And as we stand in this tight embrace, bathed in the warm glow of the tree, I can't wait to start the next one with him.

Later, as we pull up in front of my building, I turn to Zale before he can get out to open my door.

I turn to face Zale, my heart pounding in my chest. The words I'm about to say feel monumental, like they'll change everything between us. And maybe they will. But I'm ready.

"Zale," I begin, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me. "I've been doing a lot of thinking these past week."

He studies me intently, his blue eyes searching mine. I can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers wrap around the steering wheel. He's bracing himself for whatever I'm about to say.

I take a deep breath and continue. "When you first told me about the building sale, I was devastated. It felt like a betrayal, like you were trying to take away everything that mattered to me."

Zale opens his mouth, but I hold up a hand, silencing him. I need to get this out.

"But then something shifted," I say softly. "In the midst of all the chaos and the hurt, I felt...relief. A tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, this was my chance to finally pursue my own dreams."

Zale's brow furrows, but he remains silent, letting me speak.

"All this time, I've been so focused on honoring Grandma Ruth's legacy that I lost sight of my own path. I was so afraid of disappointing her, of letting go of the past, that I sacrificed my future."

I place a hand over his, thankful for the feel of his skin beneath my fingertips. And like always, fireworks explode inside, reminding me of the depth of my feelings for this man.

"And then you started fixing up the shop," I continue, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Pouring your heart and soul into making it better, even after everything that happened between us. That's when I realized something..."

I trail off, searching for the right words. Zale's gaze is intense, his body taut with anticipation.

"You were fixing the shop," I say finally, "but God was fixing my heart. Helping me see that I don't have to choose between my dreams and my family's legacy. That I can honor Grandma Ruth by creating something new, something that's truly mine."

Zale's eyes widen, and I can see the emotions flickering across his face—surprise, hope, longing.

"Saraiyah..." he breathes, his voice rough with feeling.

I step even closer, until our bodies are nearly touching. "I forgive you, Zale," I whisper. "For everything. Because in the end, your actions brought me to this moment of clarity. Of understanding that my worth isn't tied to a building or a business. It's tied to the people I love, and the dreams I have yet to chase."

Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them away, determined to get the words out. "I love you, Zale Fulton. Not for what you've done for the shop, or for the grand gestures, but for the way you've helped me find myself again. For the way you've loved me, even when I was too stubborn to see it."

Zale's hands come up to cup my face, his touch achingly tender. "Saraiyah," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "You are everything to me. Your dreams, your passions, your incredible spirit—I love every part of you."

He leans in, resting his forehead against mine. "I'm sorry for the pain I caused, but I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you'll let me."

I nod, a watery laugh escaping my lips. "I'm all in, Zale."

And then his lips are on mine, and everything else fades away. The hurt, the anger, the fear—it all melts into the heat of his kiss, the way his arms wrap around me like he'll never let go.

In this moment, I know with absolute certainty that I've found my path. It's not the one I expected, but it's the one my heart has been leading me toward all along. A future with Zale by my side, our dreams intertwined, our love a force that can overcome any obstacle.

"But, why did you have to do all this?" I ask, the question that's been burning inside me all week finally spilling out.

Zale looks at me, his blue eyes soft in the dim light of the car. "Because you deserve it," he says simply. "Because I want to make things right."

I shake my head, frustration bubbling up. "But it's so much, Zale. The equipment, the office, everything. I can't?—"

"You can," he interrupts gently. "And you will. Saraiyah, you're one of the most incredible women I've ever met. You work so hard, you care so deeply. Let someone care for you for once."

"I should go," I say, even as every fiber of my being screams to stay.

Zale nods, understanding in his eyes. "Of course. But Saraiyah?"

"Yes?"

A slow smile spreads across his face. "I have one more surprise for you."

Tomorrow is Christmas and I don't know what else this man could possibly do.

I groan, but there's no real annoyance behind it. "Zale, I don't know if my heart can take any more surprises."

He chuckles, the sound sending warmth spreading through my chest. "Just one more, I promise. You'll love it."

As we climb out of the car and head up to my apartment, my mind is racing. What could this final surprise be? And more importantly, am I ready for whatever it might mean for us?

Zale kisses me outside the door, I open it and for a second hesitate, wondering if I should invite him in. But he resolves the issues.

"I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

Then I stop him with a hand on his arm. "Can I spend Christmas Eve with you?"