Merry With a Scrooge (The Love Beach Holiday Collection)

1. Vail

Vail

July

“I quit!”

I don’t bother lifting my head.

It’s the third time in the last month I’ve heard those words and honestly, each time I have has been a relief.

I don’t know where the agency finds their candidates but they need to look somewhere else.

“Are you even going to look at me?”

My hands still and air flushes from my lungs.

Fucking hell.

Looking up, I eye the woman in my office doorway and hope this will be over quickly.

“ Did you hear what I said? ”

Why she feels the need to yell is beyond me. We’re less than twenty feet apart. I tip my head slightly and study her.

From appearances she looks competent, as though she knows what she’s doing in a high level corporate office. She presents herself professionally too—hair pulled back in a neat bun, her clothes conservative business attire, not overtly sexy, and the way she carries herself, the way she speaks…

I frown.

Well except after this morning’s screw up and outburst—along with many other moments of incompetence now I think about it—I’m not sure she’s capable of making coffee without spilling it.

Whatever she’s waiting for I don’t have time to deal with. “HR will be in touch with you in regard to your contract termination and final pay.”

My words are clipped—no room for comment—and I don’t wait for her to acknowledge them before I’m once again focused on the forecast spreadsheet in front of me.

I need to call Quade and Easton.

Something isn’t right with the numbers coming out of the California office.

One thing I am when at work is single-minded.

When I’m working, I’m working. And when something is wrong I barely function outside my efforts to fix the problem.

It’s why I don’t see the object hurtling toward me before it hits me in the forehead.

Pain, sharp and pointy, explodes across the front of my scalp before it ricochets out to fill my skull.

“What the fuck!”

I’m on my feet, eyes glaring at the doorway. The empty doorway.

Did that fucking cow just throw a—I look around to find what hit me—a stapler?

“She threw a fucking stapler at me?” The words scrape through my throat with a wave of anger.

Snatching up my phone I hit the button that will connect me with the VP of HR.

“Hello.”

“Whoever the fuck has been masquerading as my assistant just quit.”

“Again?” Dennis’s sigh fills me ear and I get his frustration because I’m feeling it too but fuck!

“Yes. And before she left she gave me a parting gift.”

“Oh?”

“A fucking stapler to the head!”

“ Oh! ”

“Get security up here. I want the footage from the cameras and I want her out of the building in ten minutes.” I go to slap the phone down when I think of something else. “Oh, and she just forfeited her final pay check. If she kicks up a stink about it tell her it’s either that or I charge her with assault.”

Slamming the phone down brings little satisfaction and I press a hand to my forehead where the pain is the worst. Pulling it away I check for blood. My fingers and palm are clean but I don’t trust what I’m seeing and make my way to my bathroom.

A more thorough search of my head turns up no blood, not even a scratch—which seems a miracle considering—but there is an angry red lump forming just under my hair.

At least it’s hidden when I let go of my hair and it falls into place.

Now I know I’m not bleeding the throb in my head is my next concern and I yank open the drawer under the basin to look for pain meds.

I hate taking meds of any kind but there is no way I’m working through the rest of the day with the pounding in my head.

Finding a bottle, I pop the cap and shake three into my palm. I dry-swallow them because I can’t be fucked getting a glass from the other room for water.

A scan of the label tells me it’s a fast acting pain killer and I hope it’s not just a sales gimmick because I’ve got shit to do.

And no fucking assistant to help me.

“Fucking hell!”

“Vail?” The concerned call comes from my office. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “Is she gone?”

“Um…”

Oh no. That woman better not still be in this building or I’m pressing charges.

Shoving out of the bathroom I face the VP of security. “What do you mean, um?”

“She’s in the parking garage.”

It takes me barely a second to work out what his words imply. “She fucked up my car.”

“We have it on tape.”

I nod. “And the stapler incident?”

“Yes.”

“Have you called the police?”

“They’re on the way.”

“Great.” There’s no enthusiasm in the word. I don’t have time to deal with this bullshit. Nor do I want to. But at this point I’m not seeing an alternative.

If I had a reliable assistant I’d put them in charge of dealing with this disaster, but I haven’t had one of those since Mrs. Jerome retired over two months ago.

Closing my eyes, I tip my head back, suck in a deep breath and hold it. I can—and will—get through this latest fucked up situation in my life.

Then I’ll get back to the numbers coming out of California and work out what the fuck is wrong over there.

Centered, I face Chad. “Lead the way. I’m sure the police will need me to make a statement.”

I don’t add that I’d like to glare daggers at the woman responsible for this morning’s drama.

Fuck. It’s not even ten and I was already behind because of her ineptness. Now this.

I shake my head.

Whatever God I offended in the last year needs to get over it. I’m not a bad guy. Okay, I swear too much, especially now Kavan isn’t around, but I don’t smoke, and only indulge in the occasional drink.

And I’m good—generous—to our employees. I donate to charities every year. Hell, I’m the poster boy for philanthropic billionaire. In-Famous magazine said so.

Except everything started to go to shit at the end of last year. When the woman I’d pledged my life to left me—taking my son with her.

Sure, biologically he’s not mine, but I was there from before he was born until the last morning before my fiancé disappeared.

In every way that counts, Kavan is mine.

And that fucking bitch up and walked—on my dime I might add—after five years because I wouldn’t agree to a three mouth jaunt across Europe for our honeymoon.

It wasn’t the first time Felicity and I had argued about such holidays but it was definitely the last. Except she’d already booked the fucking thing and, after our heated discussion, took herself and Kavan out of the country before I even knew she had no intention of meeting me at the altar the next day.

That was December last year and it seems as though every part of my life has turned into chaos since.

“Vail?”

Chad’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Hmm…”

“We should head down to the basement. The police have arrived.”

With a nod, I extend my arm to urge him to go first but I should have known he wouldn’t. Instead I get his standard smirk along with the tip of his head toward my office door.

“I hate it when you do that,” I mutter.

“I know.” His reply is laced with humor.

Glancing back, I shoot him a look that has him laughing outright.

“I’m so glad I can amuse you this morning.”

“Gotta laugh now boss, because when we get downstairs and you see your car…”

He lets the words hang and I know I’m going to lose my ever loving shit the minute we get to the parking garage.