Holiday Hoax (Windy City Holidates #3)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

MIA

“Mia.” Nico finally gathers his wits. “Charles just told me you were injured and that some man was carrying you into the building.”

“Jesus, Nico. Do you have him spying on me?”

“No. He’s just watching out for you when I’m not in town.”

“Ian,” Stella interrupts. “Why are you with Mia?”

“She’s helping me choose art pieces for the penthouse,” he answers smoothly, regaining his composure much quicker than I do.

Not that we’re doing anything wrong. There’s no need to lose composure, but if I’m being honest, his over-the-top theatrics of carrying me into my apartment made butterflies fill my belly. I’d never admit it, though.

“Why were you carrying her?” Nico asks with an uncharacteristic edge to his voice. His protective big brother edge. “Did you do something to her?”

“Nico.” Stella smacks his shoulder and rolls her eyes. “Of course he didn’t.”

“Her shoes did, actually.” Ian takes the phone from my hand and straightens his back. “Don’t worry, the offending pair has been sent to the dump. Stella, send me a list of your favorite black pumps, and I’ll replace hers with those.”

“I can do that,” Stella sounds amused.

“I can buy my own shoes.” I take the phone back. “Ignore him. I just hadn’t broken mine in yet.”

Her blue eyes take us in curiously, moving back and forth between the two of us. “I’ll send the list anyway. He won’t take no for an answer.”

Nico scoffs and mumbles something under his breath which makes her smile.

“Didn’t the gallery close hours ago?” Nico asks. “Why are you just now getting home?”

“We went out to dinner afterward.”

“That’s nice,” Stella says. “We’ll let you go now that we know you’re okay.”

“Wait,” Nico says, but she ends the call before he can say anything else.

I stare down at the blank screen for a minute before turning back to Ian. “Sorry about that. I had no idea he was using the doorman to spy on me.”

“Just big brother things.” Ian shrugs. “I actually feel better knowing people are looking after you.”

“I’m fully capable of looking after myself.”

“I know.” He takes a step toward me and cups my cheek the same way he did when he kissed me. He tilts my head back and looks down into my eyes, searching for something within their depths. His thumb runs along my cheek bone as he lowers his lips to my forehead. “Goodnight, Mia.”

Warmth explodes in my chest. “Thanks for dinner.”

“My pleasure,” he says with a wink. “Lock the door behind me.”

I roll my eyes, as if I’d forget to lock my own front door. I hear him chuckle as he walks down the hall toward the elevator. “I hope you get stuck with the slow one,” I call down to him.

Once the deadbolt slides closed, I turn and slump against the door. What even was tonight? The kiss. The foot rub. The carrying me upstairs.

My mind is reeling as I walk down the hall and into my bedroom. I should shower, but tonight the bath is calling my name. As the water heats up, I strip out of my clothes and light a few candles. Once the water hits the perfect temperature, I add epsom salts and some lavender essential oil to the water. I’m going to need all the help I can get to fall asleep tonight.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so thoroughly kissed before in all my life. The dark look in his eyes as he approached was so insanely sexy. It was so convincing I almost thought he was truly feeling jealous and possessive. And my god, he’s a good kisser. The confident sweeps of his tongue against mine, I’m sure it didn’t look like it was the first time we kissed.

I press my fingers to my lips which tingle just remembering the way they felt to be pressed against his. How sad is it that the best kiss of my life was with my fake boyfriend? I shake my head as I lower my body into the steaming water. I need to think about something else.

It’s probably a good thing I won’t see Ian for the next ten days. He’ll be in Singapore and then Tokyo handling some business. Which is good. Distance will provide clarity and remind both of us that it’s just a fake relationship. Because over the past few weeks it’s been feeling more and more real.

The only real thing is the friendship we’re developing. I wouldn’t want to risk that. He’s easy to be around and to talk to. Everything flows between us so naturally. Jeopardizing that because he’s a good kisser would be stupid.

No. We’re just friends helping each other out. I lean back and close my eyes as the water laps around me. Focusing on each breath I work to clear my mind until I hear my phone ring.

I look over and see Nico’s name and hit accept.

“What?” I ask, annoyed he’s interrupting my relaxation time. Normally I wouldn’t have answered, but I know he’d just continue to pester me until I did. Better to get it all out of the way now.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, missy. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I told you I was earlier.”

“But you weren’t alone. How was I supposed to know if you were under duress or something?”

“Nico.” Annoyance surges through my voice. “I’m fine, and you know Ian wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Maybe I’m not worried about him hurting you and more worried about something else,” he says pointedly.

“There’s nothing going on between us aside from friendship.”

“When exactly did you start fostering this friendship ?” he says the final word with a disbelieving emphasis.

“At your wedding. You know he joined me for a day in Italy. Then he was on a date with some woman who knew one of the artists we featured at the gallery. I ran into him at the opening.”

“And he just decided to buy art for his penthouse on a whim? He has the aesthetic of a bowl of oatmeal.”

That makes me laugh because it’s actually kind of true. “And that’s why he’s buying art. To breathe some life into a blank space.” I sit up and send the water sloshing.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a bath.”

“Eww,” he makes a disgusted sound. “Why did you answer the phone if you’re in the bath?”

“Because you would have kept hounding me until I answered, and I want to relax after a long day.”

He sighs. “Fair enough.”

“I’m going to let you go now.”

“Okay. We’ll be home next week. Pencil me in for lunch.”

“I’ll give you a whole day, how does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

“Give Stella a hug for me.”

We end the call, and I set my phone aside. The men in my life are truly something else. Overbearing and overprotective, which should annoy me but deep down makes me feel safe. I should probably spend some time examining why I always choose to date men who make me feel the opposite. Instead, I close my eyes and clear my mind to spend the rest of the night relaxing.

The days since the last time I saw Ian are slowly creeping by. I hadn’t realized how much of a part of my life he’s become over the past month. I’ve always known that I enjoyed his company, even from our very first time meeting at an extremely tense Thanksgiving at his family’s home. Nico brought me along because our parents were out of town with our sister.

Henry Jameson was kind, if distant, but Delia was a different beast altogether. I know we’ll probably end up seeing them at one point or another while we continue our charade. Hopefully she’ll have forgotten who I am all together. That’s unlikely, though, considering her daughter is married to my brother.

I need to stop by my apartment before I meet the installation team at his penthouse. I won’t change clothes, but I do want to change my shoes. My heels were nearly healed, but I broke out a new pair of boots this week that ended up cutting open the skin again. I knew they would as soon as I slid them on, but they looked too good to take off. Plus, I found them on a clearance rack at Bloomingdales; fashion over comfort when it comes at a steep discount.

I stop in the mailroom to check my box and find a delivery ticket informing me of having a package behind the front desk. Odd as I know I haven’t ordered anything for myself in a couple months. Amanda, the assistant to the property manager, lights up when I hand her the slip.

“I’ve been dying for you to come pick these up.” She disappears in the back room with a huge smile.

My jaw drops when she exits carrying four huge bags stuffed full of what appears to be shoe boxes. “What is all that?”

“Girl, I don’t know, but I’m so excited for you. A man came by earlier today and dropped all of these off for you.”

I glance down into one of the bags I take from her and notice a Chanel logo. “Are you sure they’re for me?”

“Yes.” She pulls a card out of one of the bags and shows me my name printed on it. “Mia Mattia.”

My brow furrows as I wrack my brain trying to make sense of it all. “Thank you,” I say as I walk away dazed.

Did Ian do this? What is happening here? My mind continues to spin until I close my front door behind me and drag the bags into my living room.

Tearing open the card I scan the words quickly, shock and pleasure mixing together with growing confusion.

Mia,

I hope you aren’t put off by this, but I simply can’t have you walking around Chicago in shoes that don’t fit you properly. I had my personal shopper go out to replace the shoes I tossed. Keep any and all that fit and you love.

-Ian

This man is bonkers. I pull out a box of Louboutin heels, and actual tears spring to my eyes because they’re so beautiful. Another box of Manolo Blahnik pumps. Tory Burch flats. Jimmy Choo strappy heels. Every pair is a work of art.

His personal shopper is worth every penny. Each pair would easily transition from business attire to evening wear. They range from black to nude, with a few metallics thrown in for good measure.

I search around under the strew about boxes and tissue paper to locate my phone. Who knows what time it is where he’s at, but I have to thank him right this second. It’s so kind, so generous.

Thank you so much! It’s beyond generous.

Text bubbles immediately show him replying.

You’re welcome, I couldn’t have those beautiful feet of yours hurting

I don’t feel worthy of this treatment if I’m being honest but I’m keeping each pair

You are more than worthy

Have I missed anything big while I’ve been away? Is Sloppy Simms staying away?

Sloppy Simms?

The guy in the cheap suits that doesn’t know how to take a hint

Cheap suits? Who is he talking about? I collapse back against the couch and force my brain to work through the high of all the shoes.

Eric Simms? The guy from the gallery?

Yes

Haven’t seen him since you purchased your art

Is Ian jealous? No. He couldn’t be. It must be the big brother protective instinct coming out in him.

Good

What time is it there? I hope I didn’t wake you

It’s six in the morning, I’ve been up for an hour

Glad I didn’t wake you

I’m getting ready to head to your penthouse for the art install

Marta will be there but if you need anything I’ll have my phone on

Okay, thank you again

I look around my living room and grab the first pair of shoes I opened. They’ll look too good with what I’m wearing not to wear them. I slap a couple band-aids on my heels and step into the pumps. The added four inches make me feel powerful and sexy as I strut around my kitchen like it’s a runway. After checking the clock, I realize I’m going to need to call up a ride from Uber to make it to the penthouse before the art.

Marta meets me at the elevator with a warm smile, and I’m immediately hit with the smell of fresh baked cookies. She’s never in a uniform, I’ve noticed. As someone who used to clean offices while I was in college, I appreciate how well he treats her.

“Welcome.” She takes my coat as I peel it off. “I’ll put this in the coat closet.”

“Thank you, Marta. I don’t think this should take too long. We’ve got it down to a science.”

“Take your time. I baked cookies this afternoon, help yourself. I’ll be dusting.” She wanders off down the hall into the library.

I walk into the living room, taking in the double-height windows showcasing the iconic skyline of the city, and take a deep breath. It’s such a beautiful space, even on an overcast autumn day. I catch just the slightest hint of Ian’s cologne and feel a little pang in my chest at his absence.

Before I can overthink that sensation, I hear the buzzer from the door where the freight elevator is. I call out to Marta that I’ll get it and go let in the team. It takes about an hour from start to finish, but once it’s done, I lean back against the table and take a photo to send to him. I repeat the process with the other artwork.

Everything looks great. Now we just have his bedroom to figure out. I was speaking to a glass blower about what we were thinking for his room, and she asked for a photo of the space. It feels a bit intrusive, but I walk in anyway. Unsurprisingly the room is perfect. Not a wrinkle in the duvet or a pair of cufflinks laying out.

I snap a few photos and then catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror propped against the wall in the corner of his room. It’s a nice touch that opens the space even more than the two walls of windows, but I’m sure he’s never even glanced in its direction.

An idea takes root in my mind. He wanted photos of the art on his walls, but maybe I should send him pictures of the art on my feet as well. I turn sideways, tilt my head and smirk at my reflection as I lift a foot behind me, red bottoms on display. The photo feels a little flirty and very cheesy, but I hit send anyway.

I go back through the house, checking for any drywall dust. There’s only a little bit on the floor in the dining room, so I wet a paper towel and kneel down to start cleaning up. I know it’s Marta’s job, but I don’t mind cleaning up when my guys created the mess to begin with.

“What are you doing?” Marta asks, rushing over to me. “You don’t need to clean.”

“I know,” I say as I keep wiping at the mess. “But I don’t mind. We made the mess, I should clean it.”

“No, no.” She gently squeezes my shoulders and helps me to my feet. “I’ll just clean behind you, so don’t waste time.”

I roll my lips to stifle a chuckle. She’s so sweet. “If you’re sure.”

“Yes, yes. You take the cookies.” She points to a box on the counter. “They won’t be good by the time Mr. Jameson gets home.”

“Okay. Thank you, Marta.”

Just as I’m about to hit the elevator button to leave, she calls out to me. “You are good for him.”

“What?” I turn, surprised because she shouldn’t be under the impression we’re actually dating.

“He’s happy now that you’re in his life. Has more life in his smiles.”

Maybe he did tell her the lie about us dating? I don’t know what to say to her assertion, so I just smile and wave as the doors close in front of me. Surely, she doesn’t think there’s more to Ian and I than just friendship.