Her Secret Santa

Chapter Two

ZADE

T he vicious pounding of my head and the incessant ringing of my phone wakes me up. Without thought, I reject the call and roll over onto my back with a groan.

Arlo and I maybe went a bit too hard on the tequila last night, and the last thing I need is my phone interrupting my fucking beauty sleep.

It rings again, only seconds after falling silent.

I yank it from my nightstand with a huff of anger and swipe to accept the call without glancing at who it is.

“What?” I snarl, unamused and uncaring of how rude I sound.

“Good morning, Zaiden,” my uncle says. “I need you in the office today. As soon as possible.”

His voice is the kind of even and measured that says he’s righteously pissed , and I'm really not in the mood for it. I don't hide my groan of annoyance, but I don't have a good enough excuse to fuck off for the day. If he has to come drag me to the office by my ear, he will, and I'd really prefer to save myself the annoyance.

“Fine. I'll be there by ten.”

I hang up without waiting for his response and toss my phone to the side. The sun is way too bright, the inside of my mouth feels like cotton, and I’m pretty sure my skull is splitting apart from the inside out. I have absolutely no desire to put on a suit and go to work, but my head hurts too badly to fall back asleep.

Might as well get coffee since I'm up, and if I'm going out then I might as well stop by the office and see what’s got my uncle’s panties in a twist.

It's already past ten when I roll out of bed, but Uncle Pax knows better than to expect me on time. I only spent half an hour in bed after he called, which is better than the usual hour it takes me to get up. Either way, I'll get there when I get there.

I take my time in the shower, letting the hot water and steam work some magic on my muscles and clear some of the hungover fog from my brain. Brushing my teeth gets rid of most of the fuzzy feeling in my mouth, and coffee will fix the rest. At least there’s no nausea. I prefer my privacy, so my housekeeper is never here when I’m home, but she leaves me prepared meals for the week. There should be something in the fridge for breakfast, and if not, I can send someone out to get me food when I get to the office.

I slick my hair back, the dark black a nice contrast against the subtle tan of my skin. My stubble isn’t too long, and I like the way it highlights my cheekbones, so I don’t shave it. After drying off, I pick a suit at random from my closet, a dark gray and imposing Zegna, and give myself a once over in the mirror. The bags under my eyes are pretty harsh, but I doubt anyone will notice. It's not like I haven't shown up hungover a million times before.

I stop for coffee on the way in, grabbing my usual quad shot espresso from the shop right beside the office. The barista tries to flirt with me, and like always, I ignore it.

I’m a few steps through the massive glass doors of the building before my phone buzzes with a text.

My office, now.

For fucks sake. My shoes clip over the waxed tile of the lobby, annoying me. It's rare that my uncle gets snippy with me. He must be really mad, which is not what I want to deal with this morning.

As soon as the elevator spits me out on the top floor, I make my way down the hall, knocking once before stepping into my uncle’s office. He's sitting behind his gleaming mahogany desk, the expanse of New York City stretching out behind him. He looks up, his face unreadable, and nods toward the chair in front of his desk. The door clicks shut behind me as I make my way to lean against the corner of the desk, looking down at him and waiting for him to speak.

“You made headlines again,” he says tersely.

He slides a tablet across the desk closer to me. A quick scroll through the articles he has pulled up tells me all I need to know.

It's the same bullshit as always.

Party Boy Zaiden Hawthorne Strikes Again. Zaiden Hawthorne: Bar Fight, or Just Another Night? Charity vs. Pétrus — Is Zaiden the new Scrooge?

They're getting more imaginative these days, but the contents are always the same. The bar fight last night wasn't even my fault. Arlo was the one who threw a punch, I just didn't stop him.

“So what?” I ask, shoving the tablet back toward him.

My uncle sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Zade, look,” he says, his voice as weary as the look he gives me. “I love you. You’re my nephew, and you're a good kid, and your dad had a lot of faith that you'd be a good fit to take over when he passed. You're good at what you do. Your business decisions and the deals you close are the reason Hawthorne Enterprises has done so well. But the board isn't happy with you, and I can only vouch for you so much.”

I bite back the snarky comment I want to make about him not being in charge here. He’s in charge of operations, and he does see more of the day-to-day around here than I do, but I wasn’t just handed the title of CEO. I worked my ass off after graduating to prove my dad right. Pax has done a lot over the past decade, since my dad passed, to keep Hawthorne Enterprises running, but I’ve been CEO for three years now, and we’re only seeing growth. We’re a multi-billion dollar conglomerate that my dad built from the ground up. We own half of the tech companies that run New York and have at least one major operation in every borough. Hawthorne Mall in Manhattan is one of our smaller operations, and it’s the second biggest mall in the state. Out of all the big players in mergers and acquisitions, no one is on our level, and that’s because of my hard work.

The mention of the board does nothing to fix my mood. They're a bunch of whiny old cowards who’ve spent their entire careers telling other people what to do without taking on any of the risk themselves. They care about what they're paid to care about, and I'm tired of listening to them bitch. Frankly, they can all go fuck themselves.

“The board doesn't know shit about how this place actually operates,” I say acidly.

“Regardless, they're the ones who make the big calls around here,” Pax says. “They're concerned about your image. Hawthorne Enterprises isn't just about you, but you're all the media watches nowadays. The stocks are being affected, and they're not happy about it.”

“Then I’ll replace them with people who understand how a business works,” I snap. “It’s not like they’re going to vote me out, not with the profit I’m bringing in.”

“They’ve already started whispering about it, Zade!” Pax takes a deep breath, reining his temper back in. “I can only smooth things over so much. You need to fix this on your own.”

Before I can argue further, the door swings open behind us.

The absolute last person I want to see waltzes through the door, blazing red hair that clashes horribly with the light blue of his button down and a smarmy smile on his face. If I didn't love my uncle so much, I'd have kicked the kid to the curb years ago. But he, unfortunately, wants to make sure his son is taken care of, even if Landon is a smug little brat.

“Zaiden,” Landon says, my name on his tongue making disgust curl in my gut, “good to see you. I see you had a rather eventful evening. Again.”

I tilt my head in acknowledgement, but don't say anything in response. It's the closest I can get to being respectful, and I try to be civil in front of my uncle, at the very least. The little shit probably doesn’t have any reason to be here right now, but he’s made a habit of including himself in things that aren’t his business. He’s got a lot of fucking audacity for a nepo baby, waltzing in here like he owns the place, but Pax just sighs in exasperation.

He’s always been a pushover when it comes to his son.

“I've hired the top PR consultant in New York,” Pax says, drawing my attention back to him. “She’ll be here tomorrow at eleven for a meeting with the two of us and the rest of her PR team.”

I scoff in disbelief, waiting for the other shoe to drop. My uncle just stares at me, dark blue eyes both firm and pleading. My brows rise in shock when I realize he's being serious, and fury rockets through me.

“A PR meeting? You hired a fucking fixer?” I seethe, my shoulders hunching up in anger. “I'm not a child , Pax, I don't need a goddamn babysitter!”

“You sure about that?” Landon mutters under his breath, shooting me a disapproving look.

“One meeting,” Pax says loudly, cutting off the scathing response I was about to turn on Landon. “That's all I'm asking for. Go to one meeting, pay attention, and listen to what she says. Just don't give the board any more reason to be mad at you right now. Please, Zade. This is serious”

Anger courses through me like a riptide. My uncle thinks everything is serious. I want to yell at Pax and punch Landon in his smug little fucking face, but my uncle looks exhausted, and Landon is just a cunt I can’t touch. I’m annoyed to realize that I can't say no.

Fine.

“I'll be at the goddamn meeting,” I bite out.

Before he can respond, I whirl on my heel and stalk out of the office, shouldering past Landon on my way out. He says something less than complimentary under his breath, but fuck him. My temper is already at its breaking point, and I really don't need to deck him in the middle of my uncle’s office. The only person that would actually hurt is my uncle. He’s the only one I give a shit about, and dealing with his snot nose son just comes with the territory.

I storm down the hallway and into my own office, slamming the door behind me, uncaring of how loud the noise echoes. My body vibrates with anger, and all I want to do is start a fight. I know I can’t do that, so I pull my phone out and call Arlo instead. At the very least, he deserves to listen to me bitch. Last night was his fault.

“Fuck, dude, isn’t it early?” he grumbles in greeting.

He’s probably been up for longer than I have, but he’ll never admit to working as hard as he does.

“Uncle Pax isn’t too happy with the headlines about last night. Can’t keep your fists to yourself for a single night, can you?”

Arlo laughs, loud and unashamed, and I scowl at my desk, flopping into my chair.

“Aw, you get in trouble?” he mocks. “You started it, dipshit. Don’t treat me like I’m your bodyguard and I’ll stop having to hit people for you.”

“Oh yeah, the big scary gangster I keep on my payroll,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.

“C’mon, Zade,” Arlo chides me, chuckling. “You make it sound like I’m some small time thug. You could never pay my salary. At least pretend to take me seriously.”

I snort out a laugh, rolling back and forth lazily in my plush leather chair as I stare out over the city. I’d be an idiot not to take Arlo seriously. I know the shit he does, and I know the shit he’s done to get where he is. It’s just that he’s also my best friend, and I can’t resist an opportunity to rib him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I say. “I need to blow off some steam. Anything fun going on tonight?”

Silence greets me, and I grit my teeth, already knowing what’s coming. Arlo may be the scariest motherfucker I know, but he’s also a massive softie.

“Might be a good idea to stay away from me for a bit,” he suggests, too casual to be anything but intentional. “Hawthorne Enterprises doesn’t need its CEO getting involved with someone like me.”

“Like fuck.”

I hate the idea of stepping back from Arlo because I hate anyone having control over what I do with my life. I’ve done just fine so far, I don’t need a babysitter to make sure the media likes me. And like I said, the asshole is my best friend.

“Seriously, though,” he says, a sigh following his words. “At least in the public eye. Big bad Uncle Pax is right this time. You don’t need to fuck up your life, I did that enough for the both of us.”

Sure, he may not be squeaky clean, but it’s not like Arlo ruined his life and wound up on the street somewhere. His line of work isn’t exactly something you bring home to your mom, but it’s stable, and he’s not hurting for anything. It only makes me hate how goddamn reasonable he sounds even more, and I scowl at the realization that he’s probably right. Which means my uncle is right too.

Fuck, I hate admitting that, even to myself.

“We’ll just fly under the radar for a minute, alright?” Arlo suggests, easy as can be. “It’s been ages since we hit up Eternity. We could both use a different type of distraction for a while, don’t you think?”

Now, that is an appealing idea.

Eternity is plenty private to soothe anyone’s concerns about who I’m seen with—no one will even know I’m there. And the thought of finding a pretty little thing to fuck my frustration out into is a good one.

Yeah, Eternity sounds like exactly what I need right now. Arlo has the best fucking ideas.

“I’ll give Cain a call, get us each a room,” I agree, an excited grin stretching my lips. “What night are you free?”

“Fuck it, book us for the whole weekend. We deserve it.”

Now he’s speaking my language.