Her Secret Santa

Chapter Eighteen

CLARA

I haven’t had a Saturday off in what feels like years . Especially a Saturday leading up to a holiday.

Now that I think about it, maybe I haven’t. Between working multiple jobs and caring for my grandma from home up until this year, I haven’t really had any days off. It feels weird to lay in bed for even a moment after waking up, especially without an alarm blaring in my ear.

Alexis, the mall manager, texted me last night and told me to take the day off, and that I'd be paid anyway. The display is closed for the day. There are only four days until Christmas, but apparently most of the elves have come down with an awful stomach bug and we just don’t have the staff to keep it running until people are feeling better. It’s a shame to close it so close to the holiday, but a day off does sound nice.

My hair is a mess of blond strands over the pillow and down my shoulders—it’s probably about time to trim the ends. Maybe I could ask Allie to come over and touch them up for me. I’m sure Brooke could use help with the kids too. It would be fun to take everyone out to the park, or maybe even the zoo if there’s enough money. That would be a hell of a Christmas treat for them. I could also go see my grandma. There are only four days until Christmas, and I know I'll be busy after the new year.

Before I decide how to spend my day, a knock sounds at my door.

I toss the covers off and hop out of bed, confused. Allie has a key, and that's not how she knocks when she bothers to. I'm not expecting a delivery of any sort.

Another knock rattles the door as I approach, and I frown. I put my hands against the worn wood of the door for balance and look out the peephole.

An older man in a uniform shirt and slacks stands outside, a massive box in his arms. I unlock the door and open it hesitantly, utterly baffled by the sight.

“Hello?” I say, a wary smile on my face. “Can I help you?”

“Ms. Sanders?” the man asks.

“Yes, that's me.”

I blink in surprise when the man holds the box in his hands out toward me. It's huge, flat and wide and made of matte black cardstock with an enormous silver ribbon around it.

“For you,” he prompts when I make no move to take it.

I look back and forth between him and the box, both so out of place in my apartment building. Am I dreaming?

I take the box from him, bewildered.

It's heavier than I expect, and I scour the lid for any indication of who it's from. If he hadn't said my name, I would have assumed he had the wrong address

“Have a pleasant day, Ms. Sanders,” the delivery man says.

I'm left staring after him as he makes his way down the stairs and out of sight. I stand there, stunned, glancing back and forth between the box in my hands and the empty space on my faded doormat where the man stood moments ago. What the hell is happening?

I kick the door closed behind me and walk into my living room. The box looks so fancy against the backdrop of my wobbly coffee table and secondhand couch, the thrifted Christmas decorations on almost every surface. My hands shake with nerves and curiosity as I tug the bow free and then lift the lid. Crisp white wrapping paper embedded with silver sparkles sits in a neat layer below a mask.

A silver mask made of thin metal, with elaborate scrolling designs etched into it.

I gasp as I reach out for it, lifting it and turning it over in my hands as I try to piece together what any of this means. It’s not the same design from Eternity, but it’s pretty close. I can only imagine the resemblance is intentional.

Also resting atop the paper is a black card.

My name is scrawled atop it in sloping handwriting.

What the hell is happening ?

I can’t bring myself to put the mask down, something in my heart fluttering with excitement and anticipation as I flip the card with my name on it over. The same sloping handwriting makes up the single line on the back.

“To my forever Diamond,” I read aloud, unable to believe it. “I’ll see you tonight, little one.”

The words glitter in silver ink, so beautiful it looks unreal. I half expect the words to jump off the card and dance around my head like fairies.

I set the mask and the card to one side, ruffling through the tissue paper without thought. My heart pounds in my chest, disbelief and uncertainty whirling in my head. It would make sense for my Elite to know where I live—especially since I woke up in my own bed after my last night at Eternity—but I never expected something like this . Does he want more than the moments we share in the club? Does he feel the same connection, the same magnetic draw, that I do when I’m with him? Or is this just another part of the game to him?

Forever Diamond .

The words sit heavily in the back of my mind.

Every thought flies right out of my head when I see what’s beneath the tissue paper, though.

The dress shines . It looks like it’s practically made of diamonds, delicate decorative strands draping over the shoulders and dripping down the length of the pristine white fabric. I pull it from the box with trembling hands, my jaw open in shock. It looks straight out of a fairy tale, something a princess would wear. A pair of matching shoes rests in the box as well, and I’m lightheaded at the thought of wearing any of this.

The last thing in the box is a series of envelopes.

The first is an invitation to the Hawthorne Christmas Masquerade Ball, which makes me frown in confusion. I already got an invitation, and I even got a plus one. Allie promised we’d go shopping for a dress and a mask today. I flip the card over and my eyes widen in shock. The sloping handwriting I’ve gotten so used to on my invitations to Eternity stares right back at me.

I’ll see you tonight, little one .

Tonight? How does he know I’ll be there tonight? I mean, he obviously knows where I live, and it wouldn’t be hard for him to figure out where I work if he can find my address. But how would he get his hands on an invitation?

There’s no way he works there, right?

The thought of Landon crosses my mind, and I shudder in disgust, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that I can cross him off the list of possibilities. My Elite has pitch black hair and eyes to match, unlike Landon’s watery blue eyes and shock of red hair. Even if they looked anything alike, there’s no way Landon could command the same authority my Elite does.

There’s one more card at the bottom of the box, an appointment card for a prestigious spa with a time written in. Both my name and Allie’s are scrawled on it. My eyes blow wide when I realize the appointment time is less than an hour from now.

I rush back into my room, dress still in hand, mind whirling with a million different thoughts. All of my Christmas wishes are coming true, one after another, and I haven’t really done anything to deserve them. My phone lights up with an incoming call from Allie before I even fully form the thought to call her, and I fumble it off the nightstand to answer.

“Clara!” Allie’s voice nearly bursts my eardrums as she screams out her excitement. “Clara, holy shit !”

“Did you just get a box with a fancy dress?” I blurt, frozen at my bedside.

“Yes, holy shit!” she squeals. “And a spa appointment too! I’m on my way to you, get ready or we’ll be late!”

Allie and I had spent the morning being worked over from head to toe at a spa that felt too expensive for me to even breathe in. A private driver arrived at my place to bring us to the spa, and the staff had served lunch to us along with free champagne that tasted more expensive than anything I’ve ever had.

We got full body massages, facials, and every inch of our bodies were waxed. The idle thought about needing my hair trimmed from this morning got dealt with by a stylist who treated me to a scalp massage and a full shampoo before trimming off the dead ends and styling my hair into loose, lazy waves. A makeup artist had come in and dolled both of us up until we looked like cover models.

I let the attendants help me into the dress my Elite sent for me. The instructions he sent with everything were that he was adamant that I bring the clothes and mask to the spa and allow myself to be pampered without complaint. The staff is careful to keep my hair from snagging on my mask or any of the jewels encrusted on the dress, and their hands are efficient and professional as they strap me into the shoes.

I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror. It’s like looking at a stranger, looking in at a version of my life that can’t possibly be real.

I don’t have time to fully take in how I look—or how Allie looks, either, stunning and sensuous in a red silk gown that’s so tight it might as well be painted on. The second we’re dressed, we’re being ushered out into a fucking limo .

The sun is setting, the fading rays glittering on the blanket of snow over the entire city.

“This is crazy,” Allie gushes, sliding her hands down the dress she’s draped in. “Is the ball going to be like this too? I feel like a princess.”

I laugh, overwhelmed and having no idea where to even begin to process this. Today has felt like something straight out of a dream. Something I’d fantasize about while in my bed alone at night, but I never expected to actually experience.

“I have no clue,” I reply, shaking my head in disbelief. “I’ve never done anything like this, I feel like I’m hallucinating.”

“It’s like you’ve got a secret Santa or something,” Allie teases, grinning widely. “A Christmas ball and a day at the spa? That’s right off your list.”

I haven’t actually thought about my list in a while, but the last time I cleaned out my backpack, I couldn’t find it. It’s probably in my junk drawer somewhere, or maybe I just dropped it. This must be just a coincidence. Yet, the idea of someone secretly fulfilling all my wishes is both the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard and kind of daunting.

I push away thoughts of the mall Santa and his dark, direct gaze. I’m dressed up and being pampered by my Elite, I shouldn’t be thinking of another man right now, especially not one I hardly know.

He probably only popped into my mind because he’s Santa and we’re talking about my Christmas wishes. It doesn’t mean anything.

I laugh at the thought, brushing it off, and Allie and I spend the rest of the ride babbling excitedly. Neither of us have ever done anything remotely this fancy, and we’re both alight with nerves.

The limo drops us off in front of a stunning convention center, the uniformed driver opening the door and helping us out of the car. Before I even get a chance to thank him, more uniformed attendants approach me and Allie and take our invitations before leading us inside. The vision that welcomes us is breathtaking. It’s clear no expense has been spared in decorating the lobby as I take in the garlands and glittering lights draped elegantly from the ceiling. Christmas music fills the space, played by a live orchestra from the second floor. The scent of pine and cinnamon lingers in the air, and multiple lavishly decorated Christmas trees surround the ground floor.

People in stunning gowns and masks mingle throughout the lobby and meander up a wide, winding staircase to the second floor. The whole place is straight out of a Christmas wonderland. The lobby is filled with small cocktail tables and highboys decorated in elaborate floral and candlelit centerpieces while groups of people chat and snag glasses of champagne and h ors d'oeuvre from wandering waiters.

“I need a drink to survive this,” Allie jokes.

Her eyes are just as wide as mine, her jaw slack as she takes in the stunning decor. I don’t get a chance to answer her before my eyes catch on a man making his way down the stairs, the crowd parting around his certain stride.

His shoulders are broad, draped in a coal black suit, and an anticipatory smile rests on his lips. I can’t look away, drawn to him with that same unstoppable magnetism that captures us every time we see each other. The look in his eyes is just as familiar as the eyes themselves, hidden once again behind a black mask. The curling designs on the mask match mine, twisting vines of ivy and bramble. My heart leaps up into my throat as he stops in front of us. He holds his hand out in an obvious request for mine, such a blatant copy of the first night we met at Eternity that there’s no doubt in my mind. This man is my Elite.

Standing in front of me, in the outside world, like all of this could be real if I just take his hand.

“Could I ask you for this dance?”