Her Secret Santa

Chapter Twenty-Two

ZADE

“ W here the fuck is Gabriela?” I snap, pacing furiously along the length of Pax’s office.

“Worried you’ll lose your CEO title for fucking the help?” Landon asks smugly.

The crunch of his nose beneath my fist in the most satisfying thing I’ve felt in fucking years . I snarl down at him like a rabid dog as he collapses to the ground of Pax’s office clutching his face. Blood streams out between his fingers, red against pale skin, and he stares up at me with shocked, watery blue eyes.

The door slams open, Pax and Gabriela stopping in their tracks at the sight before them.

“For fuck’s sake, Zaiden,” Pax says with a harsh sigh. “Get yourself under control.”

He stomps in and pulls Landon up off the ground by his elbow, his face positively stormy.

“He fucking hit me,” Landon wails, staring at me in horror.

“If I find out you had anything to do with this, I’ll do a lot fucking worse,” I bite out. “You’ll never step foot near Hawthorne Enterprises again, you pathetic little fucking worm of a?—”

“Enough!” Pax shouts, cutting me off. “Landon, out . We have important things to discuss.”

My uncle stares at me, his face impassive in a way that I know means he’s absolutely furious. Landon tries to argue, but Pax shoves him out into the hallway and yanks the door closed.

The three of us stand, silent and tense, in Pax’s office. Snow falls lazily outside, a stark contrast to the harsh energy vibrating around me.

“Things don’t look good,” Gabriela says bluntly.

I fucking know that. The headlines and calls have been flooding my phone and email, painting my relationship with Clara as something dirty and cheap rather than the only purely good thing I’ve ever had in my life. The look in her eyes when she ran off fucking gutted me, and she won’t pick up my calls. I tried to run after her, but the press swarmed me, and by the time I shove my way through, she was already gone. I knew I didn’t have a chance of making things right between us if I couldn’t fix this shit show, so I rushed to the office when my uncle called.

The thought of my reputation ruining this before I even have a chance to change fucking breaks my heart.

“We’ll fix it,” Gabriela promises. “You’re a grown man, you’re allowed to have friends. We can even spin it that she’s been advising you about charities, or, worst case, that she’s been pursuing you.”

Pure fury washes through me at the thought of throwing Clara to the wolves like that, especially when I promised to keep her safe from the media’s wrath. Before I have a chance to go off on her, Pax meets my eyes, concern and curiosity written in the lines of his face.

“Do you love the girl?” he asks.

“What? Yes.” What kind of question is that? How could I not love Clara? She’s everything I could have ever wished for. “Of course I do.”

“Are you prepared to show the world that?” I glance between Pax and Gabriela, unsure of where they’re going with this.

“The best thing for your image right now is honesty,” Gabriela says with consideration. “You’re a man, and you’re in love. You’re human. Show the tabloids that you’re willing to throw away the bad boy persona and be a person. If this Clara girl loves you back, you’ll be golden.”

I blink at her in confusion, disgust settling unpleasantly in my stomach. I know that it’s her job, but is she really thinking about my fucking public image right now? The tabloids are calling Clara a gold digger, and I’m supposed to be worried about how I look?

“This isn’t about me!” I snap. “I don’t care whether this is good for PR or the press. She’s the kindest, most generous person on the planet, and however this happened, she got humiliated in front of the biggest reporters in the city. Even if she’ll never take me back, she doesn’t deserve to have her name splashed around like this. I don’t want her to believe all these lies.”

My voice breaks on the last word, my heart aching in my chest at the thought. What if she does? I’ve already seen how she believes she’s less important than others. Less valuable. What if she believes all of it, every inflated rumor that I’ve been leading her on, or worse, that I see her as the gold digger the media is painting her to be. I was so fucking stupid. I have never given a fuck what the public thinks of me, but Clara… she does care. I should have instantly made a plan and not ignored it like I would usually do for myself.

And Gabriella’s solution is to simply declare that I’m in love. It can’t be that easy.

I’d almost rather let my life go down in flames than see anyone paint Clara in a bad light because of me. There shouldn’t be a single whisper of her goodness being overshadowed by my mistakes and faults. She deserves better than that.

It’s not the first time I’ve thought it, but maybe she deserves better than me.

“Then prove them wrong,” Pax says. “You’re in the public eye. Anything you do is going to be reported on, but you don’t have to pay attention to that. Do what’s right by her. Do what’s right by you . I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy, Zade.”

My breathing is shaky, panic starting to overwhelm my anger. Anger is easier, lashing out and being what everyone expects. But the fear of losing her is something I don’t know how to handle.

But my uncle is right. Even if she wants nothing to do with me, I can’t let this be how the world sees her. I want everyone to see the perfect, wonderful girl that I see every time I look at her. I want them to know that I was the one who chased after her, and that I was the one who failed to keep my promise. I won’t let the media smear her name like this.

“You seem to think this girl is an angel. She was the one who changed your mind about the donations and the holiday ball, wasn’t she?” Gabriela asks pointedly. “Show the world that. Spread all the good that she does, make her efforts more impactful. It’s my job to keep you looking good in the media, but if she’s this important to you, you can find a happy middle ground here.”

I take several deep, calming breaths, trying to get my whirling thoughts into some semblance of order. I’ve never known anyone as good as Clara, and Gabriela is right. Even if there’s nothing I can do to convince her that I can do better than this, I still have a chance to make her life better.

I don’t exactly know where to start with that, but I know who will.

“I—I need to go,” I say, already pulling my phone from my pocket to call my driver. “I’ll be back.”

I rush out of the office and toward the elevator, leaving my uncle and Gabriela behind without another word. My driver picks up on the second ring, and I ask him to meet me outside. I probably look like a mess, Landon’s blood on my knuckles, my hair a wreck, lines of worry creasing my eyes. I pay no attention to the swarming press, dashing through the crowd and into the backseat of my car.

“I need to go to Brooklyn Gardens Nursing Home,” I say as soon as I close my door and cut off the shouting reporters from outside.

My driver doesn’t ask any questions, pulling up directions and heading straight there. He keeps his foot heavy on the gas, and I make a mental note to give him a raise or a vacation or something. We make it to Brooklyn in record time, even with Christmas Eve traffic.

I rush inside as soon as the car comes to a stop, not taking a moment to look around the lobby. It’s well lit and warm, but I don’t care about anything but finding Clara’s grandma.

The receptionist is a redhead with a warm, easy smile, and she looks a little concerned about how frantic I seem.

“Is Nora Sanders here?” I ask, trying to keep myself calm.

I remember her name and the nursing home from the PI’s report, but I can’t recall her room number, and I doubt she’d have any idea of who I am. It’s probably not the best idea to burst in unannounced in my current frenzied state.

Instead of the receptionist, a voice behind me answers.

“I certainly am.”

I whirl to see a frail old lady in a wheelchair. A maroon blanket sits over her lap, a young man stands behind her, hands on the handles of the wheelchair. He glances between me and the receptionist, but I pay him no mind. I walk up and hold my hand out to Nora, ignoring the way I’m trembling with nerves. She grasps my hand, her skin weathered and worn, chilly in the way that old people’s fingers usually are.

There’s not a lot of strength to her grip, but I can see a glint of steel in her eyes.

“I’m Zade Hawthorne,” I say, dropping her hand. “I’m in love with your granddaughter. Can we talk?”

It’s a hell of a way to introduce myself, but I’m too keyed up to worry my way through pleasantries and small talk.

She seems to appreciate it, approval glimmering in her rheumy blue eyes.

“Why don’t we go to my room?” she suggests. “You can tell me all about where you messed up.”

I follow her and her aide down the hall, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Her room isn’t far, and the aide leaves us after helping Nora into a plush armchair. She invites me to sit in the other one beside her, and I launch into my story.

I tell her about my past, the mistakes I’ve made. I tell her about the goal of playing Santa, about how it wasn’t supposed to be announced until after Christmas, how it was supposed to be something good , even if I hated it at first. I tell her how Clara has changed my life, about the selfish, ungrateful asshole I’ve been as an adult, and how I had never seen someone give as much as Clara did to the world around her.

“It probably seems like I’m just throwing money around to try to smooth things over, but there are things that I can offer that Clara doesn’t have access to,” I say, hoping to hell Nora will understand. “The media is painting my feelings for her in a really disgusting light, and worse, her feelings for me. I don’t know if there’s any way to fix that, or if she’ll be able to trust me again. Either way, I want to help where I can.”

It’s a half formed plan at best, but I tell her about my idea for the children’s home and the nursing home, for the charities and donations I plan to set up in Clara’s name. Her smile goes from kind to overwhelmed, and I take it as a good sign. There are a million different things I could—and would—do for Clara, but I want to do something that’s as important to her as she is to me.

“I want to say, Zade,” she says when I finish my rambling, “you’re a good man. My dear Clara spends her whole life making other people happy, and all I’ve ever wanted for her was someone who could see that and would make her life easier. My girl deserves to be loved and cared for, and she deserves someone who will make her realize that she deserves it.”

“She deserves the world.” It’s odd to hear my own thoughts echoed so precisely out loud, but it soothes a large part of my anxiety. “I just want to give it to her.”

Nora smiles at me, reaching over to pat my knee in an approving, affectionate gesture.

“Call it grandmotherly intuition, but I have a feeling you’re exactly what she needs,” she says. “I may not know you very well, but I think she might be just what you need too.”

It’s nice to hear it out loud, especially from someone who knows how much Clara does and how much she’s worth.

“She’s changed my entire life.” My voice is raw with emotion, and I smile at Nora. “Thank you for all of this. I just want to give her something that matters, even if she doesn’t want me.”

“You’re a worrier too,” Nora says with a chuckle. It’s not something that anyone else has ever called me, but maybe I’ve started changing without even realizing it. If it’s Clara I’m worrying about, I don’t mind it. “I’ll help you see this plan through. Clara deserves it, and you deserve to give it to her. My granddaughter can be stubborn as a mule, and she’s not going to talk to you when she’s hurt like this. Let’s do things my way, let me ease her into the idea. Things will be just fine.”

I don’t know if it’s quite as easy for me to believe it, but it’s certainly good to hear.

Things will be just fine.

All I can do now is hope.