Her Secret Santa

Chapter Ten

ZADE

C lara and a brunette with wavy hair down to her waist are huddled together in the corner of the break room when I walk in. I’m already in costume to hide my identity from the prying eyes of the media, and I was still stopped about ten times by families wanting photos on the way in. Who knew Santa got more media attention than I did. The day hasn’t even started, and I’m already exhausted.

Seeing that pretty face glowing with a wide smile as she hunches over a cup of coffee with her friend is enough to brighten my mood instantly. She looks good after getting fucked.

“Allie!” Clara gasps, slapping a hand over her mouth to cover a scandalized laugh.

I’m pretty sure her friend is the girl Arlo took upstairs last night. She’s even more his type without the mask. I idly wonder if he’ll invite her back, but, like me, he doesn’t have a habit of it. Neither of them seem to notice me as I fold myself into one of the chairs at the other end of the table.

“I actually have bruises on my ass,” Allie whispers, not at all quietly.

I only just barely hide my snicker into the fake Santa beard that scratches over my cheeks as I take a seat. Arlo must have gone easy on her.

“Lucky,” Clara whines, significantly quieter than her friend. “I don’t have any marks. I was kind of hoping I’d have at least a few. Maybe if I get invited back, I can convince him to really work me over.”

That shoots straight to my cock, and I shift uncomfortably in the cheap folding chair. I already decided before I left last night that I’d be inviting her back, and if she wants some marks, I’d be more than happy to oblige. She’d look so pretty covered in bruises and bite marks.

“I hope we both get invited back,” Allie says with a grin. “Whoever he was, he was fucking amazing.”

I’ll have to pass the compliments along. He won’t be surprised in the slightest.

“Seriously,” Clara says wistfully, leaning in and dropping her voice so low I almost can’t hear her. “He fucked me until I literally passed out , Allie. And he left me a note thanking me and made sure the Floor Master from last night took care of me when I woke up. I got breakfast in bed and flowers .”

My brows wing up in surprise at that. I’ll have to ask Cain to thank the Floor Master from last night for going all out for me.

The two of them continue chatting quietly as the rest of the elves start filtering in, and I lose track of their conversation. Her friend leaves shortly after, and I watch lazily as Clara and the rest of the elves pull on their vests and their ears and the ridiculous shoe covers they all wear. Somehow, she still looks cute even all decked out in ridiculous elf regalia.

“Ready for today, Santa?” Natalise asks me.

My good mood douses immediately at the thought of my role for the day. I almost forget why I’m actually here.

“Sure am.”

I’m sure my abundant enthusiasm reads clearly in the dryness of my tone. This whole thing is pointless, and I can’t believe I’m wasting time playing dress up in a mall I fucking own. Fuck the Christmas spirit.

Clara and the rest of the elves start filing out of the room so I take a deep breath and force myself out of the chair. We make our way down the little aisle toward the elaborate set up, and I settle into the heavily decorated bench, groaning under my breath at the line of kids already waiting for a picture with Santa.

Fuck, why me?

“Smile, Santa,” Clara hisses at me sharply.

She shoots me a harsh glare as she fluffs the pillows on the bench. It’s kind of hot, and I can’t help the grin I send her in response. She frowns at me, clearly confused by the response, and hurries off toward the line of children.

I might actually have to pay attention to playing Santa if I don’t want to get myself in trouble. I can’t really afford to be fantasizing right now, no matter how pretty my little elf looks.

It becomes more and more difficult to keep my eyes off her as the day goes on. Her smile is captivating, and the braids in her hair bounce with every step she takes. She’s more interesting to look at than the kids, which she doesn’t seem to like, and she scolds me about it more than once. At least I’m not being shitty to the kids today. I’ve got too much eye candy to get truly annoyed with everything else around me.

I just can’t help staring at her, entirely too wrapped up in thoughts of her. There are too many things I want to do to her, with her, and it’s almost impossible to keep my mind from wandering, especially when I think about how perfect she was at Eternity. After hearing her conversation with her friend this morning, ideas have run wild through my brain all day.

It’s the biggest relief of my life when the line finally dwindles and we wrap up for the day. I follow hot on Clara’s heels as she rushes to the break room, both because I’m anxious for the day to be over and because I don’t want to let her out of my sight. It would be a horrible idea to reveal the truth of last night, especially right now, but I consider it anyway. Seeing her eyes go wide in shock and watching her face flush red sounds so tempting.

It would easily be one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. I don’t even know the girl, and my uncle is already on my ass about my public image. He’d have a heart attack if my proclivities got out to the media because I broke my damn NDA. Sure, I don’t think Clara would take the opportunity to sell the story, but it’s not a risk I need to take.

Still, the thought is more tempting than it should be.

I’m saved from my own rashness by the sound of her phone ringing.

“Grandma, hi!” she says, sounding flustered as she strips out of the elf vest. “Sorry, I know I’m late—I’m leaving work now.”

She stuffs her keys and a bag full of crafting supplies into her backpack, the zipper still half undone when she pulls it from her locker to sling over her shoulder. I catch the confused glance she shoots my way and realize I’ve been staring this whole time, caught up in the sight of her looking so different from when I had her pinned to the bed beneath me.

She still looks just as sweet.

I force my attention back to my locker, shaking my head subtly to clear it of the memories of last night.

“I’m on my way out the door,” she says as she rushes away from her locker, not even bothering to close it all the way. “I’ll see you in half an hour, alright? I love you!”

Her words fade along with the sight of her, but just as the door drifts closed behind her, I see a paper slip free from her backpack and fall to the ground. It’s none of my business, sure, but that’s not going to stop me. If it’s nothing interesting, I’ll just put it in her locker so she finds it when she comes in for her next shift, but I’m a curious man at heart.

I walk over and bend to pick it up from the floor.

It’s lined yellow paper, the kind from a legal pad, folded into a neat square and crinkled around the edges. I carefully unfold it, running my thumbs over the seams. Her handwriting is neat and bubbly, exactly what I’d expect from someone like her.

I’m surprised at the laugh that falls from my mouth when I realize it’s a Christmas wish list.

Normally, I’d scoff at something like this, especially from an adult, but I can practically feel the genuine excitement in the words. She wants a laptop and a job in graphic design, and to go to the spa and have a Christmas Day right out of a fairy tale. It’s kind of a sad list. I could make all of those things happen with a snap of my fingers. The bullet point about experiencing her sexual desires makes me smirk, as does the big check mark beside it. She’s only gotten the tip of the iceberg so far.

I already knew it was Clara writhing under me last night, and her conversation with her friend this morning confirmed that. She tasted so good on my tongue, submitted so sweetly for me, no hesitation in those pretty blue eyes as I fucked her into incoherency.

I turn the letter over in my hands, considering. How hard her life must really be if these are things she’s wishing for. I could make all of these wishes come true without blinking. I’m more than a little surprised to realize that I want to.

I know damn well that I want her again, and that I’m not going to stop thinking about it until I absolutely demolish her. If I’m being honest, I want to give her everything on this list and more.

With everyone else finally gone, I change out of the Santa costume and into a bulky hoodie to hide my face, then tuck the list in my pocket and rush out to my car. As soon as my driver ushers me into the car, I pull my phone and the list from my pocket and dial up Arlo’s number.

“If it isn’t the secret Santa,” Arlo says in greeting.

I scowl at my phone, strongly considering hanging up as I put up the partition to ensure my conversation stays private.

“Ha, ha,” I say drily. “You’re so funny, asshole.”

He laughs raucously, unashamed of his teasing. I’ve given him plenty of shit over the years, so it’s fair for it to come back around to me.

“You need something, Santa baby?” he asks, his grin obvious in his voice. “Got some shit I need to handle.”

I don’t even want to know what that means.

“You’ve got a PI, yeah?”

“I’ve got a couple guys who work above board,” he says. “I can send their information your way.”

He may be a shady motherfucker sometimes, but I appreciate the lack of questions.

“Just send me your best. I need to look into someone from last night.”

“The great Zaiden Hawthorne, chasing after a girl?” Arlo says with a laugh. “Hell must have frozen over.”

I scoff at him, but don’t bother to deny it.

“Send your guy to me,” I tell him. “Go handle your shit.”

Arlo laughs at my brusque tone before hanging up. A moment later a text arrives with an email address.

I’m still sitting in the parking garage, too keyed up to head home until I get the ball rolling on this. I waste no time typing out a message requesting everything the guy can get me on Clara, telling him that Arlo sent me. I want her phone number, her address, everywhere she’s ever worked, her favorite ice cream, who her family is, where her grandma lives. I want to know everything about her.

I get an email back within minutes—an invoice and a promise to get the information over to me immediately.

I hardly glance at the cost before sending the money over. No matter how much, it’ll be worth it. One taste of her wasn’t anywhere near enough. I need her again.

And I’m a man who gets what I want.