Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
He chuckles. “If you say so.”
I turn away, wishing the elevator would hurry up. My office is on the fifty-eighth floor. While the ride doesn’t typically feel like a million years, right now, I feel like I’m dying a slow death.
“Doesn’t this thing move faster?” The music isn’t helping. There’s nothing about this being the best time of the year.
The holidays do nothing but remind me that I’m alone. Every time I look at decorations, I try not to remember how much Troy would enjoy being out there on Thanksgiving night, stringing up the lights. He proposed to me on Christmas three years ago.
It was the perfect proposal. The one that girls around the world swoon over because it was just that romantic. And it was.
We were standing in our living room, dancing to “Silent Night,” and the fire was burning, giving me that perfect glow. Our beautifully lit tree was sending a shimmery white glow around the room as he held me in his arms. He leaned down, kissed my lips, and told me he wanted to spend every Christmas just like that.
Then he dropped to his knee, took out the ring, and I sobbed while nodding yes over and over.
I believed that Santa was real and he brought me the best gift ever.
A year later, when he decided he didn’t love me anymore, I learned Santa was a fraud and that the fat man had been fired, was on a diet, and shaved off his beard.
Troy ruined my favorite holiday, and of course, I don’t get to pretend it doesn’t exist because it’s almost my birthday. Therefore, Christmas is forever a celebration. Blah.
“Are you heading to the boss’s office?” Dean asks.
“No, you?”
“Yeah, I have a meeting today since I’m leaving for California. I figured it was better to do the pitch now.”
Oh, sure, he can go first, wow them, and then I’ll really be out. No way. I’m not going to let him weasel his way into this account like he always does.
Well, weasel is a strong word. He’s smart, cunning, and actually good at his job, which is just one more reason to hate him.
Oh, and he is really fucking good in bed.
Like, really good.
“That’s totally unfair—” The elevator slams to a stop, jerking up and down, forcing me to almost topple over. If it weren’t for Dean’s strong arms wrapping around me and stopping my second fall of the day, I probably would have.
The lights flicker and then the small emergency light goes on.
Great. This is just what I needed.
Fucking holidays.
“Are you all right?” he asks for the second time in the last five minutes.
My heart is racing from the punch of adrenaline and a bit from his cologne that fills my nose as I draw a deep breath. Damn, why does he have to smell so good?
“Yes, thank you—again.” I hate that, out of all the people in the building, this has to happen in front of Dean. Him constantly helping me up and catching me before I fall is so freaking contradictory. He’s the first guy I’ve thought about since Troy. I thought maybe he felt something for me, but then he brushed me off as if I were nothing.
How can he be both people in my head?
How can he be so sweet one minute but then ignore me completely?
It’s not as if he didn’t know about my past. In fact, that night we spoke about it. I told him about how this holiday would be hard because of my ex. We talked about work, life, our lives since both our breakups. It was great, but then he acted like I was nothing.
Although, that’s what we said before it happened.
I’m attempting to convince myself that was exactly what we both agreed to and he’s just keeping his word, but . . . I hoped.
I came in the next day, smiling with a coffee for him. He walked right past me and hasn’t said a word about what happened since then.
It’s incomprehensible to me that I finally let myself feel something other than rage toward a man, only to be . . . ignored after sex.
“Of course.” He smiles and presses the call button.
“Hello?” A man on the other end replies.
“Hi, this is Dean Pritchard and we’re stuck, can you get us going please?”
“Yes, is everyone okay?”
Dean looks back at me. “Yes, Holly Brickman and I are in here, but we’re not moving and the emergency lights are on.”
The man clears his throat. “Yes, we’re aware. There was a power outage due to the heavy snow, and unfortunately, it looks like a transformer blew, leaving the whole block out of power. The generator is broken as well, found that out late last night when we tested it, but as soon as we can get you both out, we will. Okay?”