Red Hot Christmas

by Carmen Falcone

  Nicolas picked up a picture of his grandmother and ran a finger down the side of her face. “No one plays the Morganti’s do they?” The thought blazed in his mind, the words in his grandmother’s gravelly voice. The old woman had schooled him well on living on his instincts and every day he thanked her for it.

  Nicolas looked out again over the spires of New York City. He would have loved his grandmother to see him now. For her to gaze out over this view with him as he pointed out the various buildings he owned. To have one of his cars pick her up, have his chef whip up her favorite meal of spaghetti and meatballs. Although no doubt she would have found fault in anything the Michelin-starred chef created.

  Kennedy once advised ‘don’t get mad, get even.’ That was something his grandmother would have agreed with. Gabrielle wasn’t going to know what hit her. No, she was going to know exactly what hit her, and she was going to beg him for forgiveness that he would never give. Nicolas smiled for the first time that day. He could hardly wait for tomorrow. Gabrielle Phillips was as good as ruined.

  Chapter Three

  Next day he decided to check out his shop floor before meeting with the staff who were in charge of it. Able’s was about more than Gabrielle Philips, and he needed to make sure he was on top of every aspect of it. It was a short walk to the flagship Able’s store from his office and Nicolas pushed through the door less than ten minutes after he’d left his desk. On his left a little boy pulled at his mother’s hand, dragging her towards a display of antique model trains. The child’s face was a picture of wonder. He gazed at the old tin engine while it chugged over a track and through a tunnel. As if transported into the child’s thoughts, Nicolas saw the smoke billowing from the train, watched the felt trees glued to the green matt sprout real tendrils, and a conductor wave his hand, hurrying passengers on board. “How does it work?” the little boy asked his mother.

  “They’re toys,” she said, harried no doubt by trying to fit shopping in around her busy schedule.

  Nicolas waited for her to say something else, to feed the wonder on the kid’s face. Nothing. Maybe it was the atmosphere in the store, maybe it was all the Christmas decorations, but instead of walking on, he bent and whispered to the kid, “There’s a secret robot in each train.”

  The boy’s eyes widened, and Nicolas grew bolder. “The conductor goes around each night checking that the robot is hidden from view. If everyone knew that you could get robots this small they’d freak out. But that’s what makes it go. If you check closely you can see the robot sparkle. See there.” He pointed and the child peered in.

  When the metal and tin refused to give up their magical secrets the boy’s face creased up. He turned to look up at Nicolas with his eyebrows knotted. “You sure? Why don’t they use them in other things?”

  Nicolas tried not to laugh. “Oh, I’m sure. I’ve seen them at night. They glow in the dark.”

  The child’s mother gave Nicolas a strange look. “Time to go Henry.” His hand held firmly by his mother, little Henry had no choice but to be dragged away, but as he turned to check the trains one last time, Nicolas gave him a big wink.

  Shaking his head at himself, Nicolas scanned the entry floor of his department store before he headed for the lift. Every outlet was jammed with Christmas decorations, gifts and toys all competing for attention with tinsel and faux snow. It was a child’s Christmas paradise.

  Nicolas sighed, what he would have given for a fraction of the toys on display today when he was growing up. But his grandmother had hardly enough money for food, let alone toys. He changed course and went to gaze more closely in the shop window of an ornate candy store. There were candy canes and lollypops on display, but there were also elfin ears and fake reindeer droppings all made of chocolate. The store owner clearly didn’t just cater for traditionalists.

  Moving on to the next store, Nicolas realized that he’d never explored Able’s properly. Sure he knew the ins and outs of its balance sheets, knew which outlets held the prime retail spaces and the ratio of foot traffic to sale turnover, but he’d never just wandered, sampling the Christmas treats on offer, window shopping, picking up a gift for someone special.

  Because you’ve made sure there is no one special in your life.

  Was that true? Had he blockaded himself away?

  No. Not blockaded. He was just being careful, taking heed of his Grandmother’s advice, protecting his wealth. Gabrielle’s face flashed into his mind. Because he had to.

  As he strode into the boardroom, Nicholas tried to ignore Gabrielle’s petite frame and the way the two men who flanked her were sitting closer than they needed to. Even without the red dress she was like a light attracting moths. It was no wonder, the way she smiled, toying with a strand of her dark hair, her indigo eyes flashing, the buttons on her white shirt undone just enough to give a glimpse of what lay beneath. It was plenty to get any red blooded man’s attention. Nicolas felt his body contract, his fingers tightening as the thought of undoing the rest of those buttons and spreading her out on the boardroom table flashed through his mind.

  Turning his back to the room a moment Nicolas composed his face, looking out over New York through the picture window. The view from Able’s boardroom this morning was an entirely different one than on the night he’d bought the company. Clouds swirled over everything today, shrouding the city in a blanket that was anything but warm.

  Good.

  The gloomy backdrop suited him, it should make getting everyone’s attention easier. Knowing they’d be out in that cold weather if they didn’t get on board with his plans should focus the managers on his every word.

  Now you just have to get your own focus on the job. And off Gabrielle Phillips. No problem, if he reminded himself what she was—a money grubbing thief—their history and her looks wouldn’t affect him. Turning, Nicolas cracked his knuckles and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s get to work shall we?”

  Nicolas finished his spiel on how strategic sales and cross-selling, plus increasing customer conversion rates, was going to be the priority for the next month. He never bought a company without a plan and to make this one work he needed this team behind him.

  Finally he got to what he knew everyone had been waiting for. “There won’t be immediate changes in any departments. The only thing I always insist on is that my finance team be brought up to speed on accounts throughout the company, but they’re used to it and shouldn’t get in the way of your day-to-day business.” Nicolas looked around the room and smiled. Most of the management team was relaxed now, the frown lines steadily melting as soon as he’d said ‘no changes’. It was almost as if the whole room exhaled relief. “It looks like you’ve all been doing a pretty good job, so make Morganti’s plenty of money and none of you will have anything to worry about.”

  A volley of nervous laughter fluttered and faded.

  Nicolas sighed inwardly. A healthy sense of fear wasn’t a bad thing to engender as the boss of a massive department store chain, but this lot were pitiful. He could almost smell the acrid stench of adrenaline from their nervousness. There better be some wit and brains in the mix somewhere or the non-immediate changes he anticipated making would come sooner than anyone was going to like.

  “I know you’ve all been working your teams hard in the run up to Christmas and therefore I see no reason why I shouldn’t expect a better season than any Able’s has ever had.”

  Muted grumbling ensued, everyone avoiding making eye contact with Nicolas as if he were the teacher of a class of teenagers. “You,” Nicolas nodded at one of Gabrielle’s neighbors, “Mr. Kilpatrick, everything going well on the shop floor?”

  The man steadied himself, putting his customer face on. “Everything is good downstairs. I can’t promise anything of course, that would be irresponsible, but the preparations for this year’s Santa Grotto are already looking fantastic. And in past years, parents who visited the grotto were two and a half times more likely to make a purchase on the shop floor. So everyone’
s pleased Gabby and her team have done a superb job. I’m sure we’ll do Morganti’s proud.”

  Gabby was it? “Really?”

  “Oh yes. I mean Able’s is famous for our Christmas display, as you know, but I think this year you’ll see just how much higher our standards are than any of our competitors. We’re going to show New York City just what Christmas is all about. Gabby let me sneak a peek, and even the waiting hall for Santa is amazing.”

  There were no issues with this guy’s sales skills. Nicolas checked at the list in front of him, Fraser? This guy? Really? “I’m glad to hear it. Mr. Kilpatrick. Fraser isn’t it?”

  The man nodded. What was Gabrielle getting out of him? It couldn’t have been money, he wouldn’t be working here if he had pots of cash, and he wasn’t exactly bachelor of the month. A weedy man really. She certainly had him wrapped round her little finger though, talking her up in front of the new owner. Maybe he was surprising in bed. Nicolas tried to wipe the thought away.

  “Unless there are any other questions, that will be all for now. We’ll have a weekly WIP first thing Mondays, I understand you’re all used to that. I may not always attend, but someone from Morganti’s will be here.” People stood up to leave, Gabrielle studiously still avoiding his gaze. Good. At least she has the decency to feel awkward, given she probably slept her way into this job. Gabrielle had never had a job like this one when he’d known her. She’d been much lower level.

  Nicolas looked at Fraser who was, not very subtly, giving Gabrielle a thumbs up. Idiot. Might as well use him to see what other information he could use to bring Gabrielle’s role to a close swiftly.

  “Fraser, a word if you wouldn’t mind.”

  The man didn’t pale this time and when the room was empty, Nicolas gave Fraser the benefit of his full smile. “So, you seem like a man who knows what’s what around here.”

  “I like to think so.”

  “Is it a tight team? Do you socialize together? Meet each other’s wives, that sort of thing?”

  Fraser blanched. Definitely a guilty conscience about something. “Some of the teams catch up now and then on Fridays, but I’ve been trying to spend more time with my wife. She thinks I work long enough as it is.”

  So Gabrielle was a thief and a home wrecker. “Fair enough. Family is important. I like to think my employees have their priorities straight there.” Nicolas changed tack. “You seem pretty sure about the success of the event and publicity department.”

  Fraser shrugged, obviously happy about the topic change. “I couldn’t pretend to know the ins and outs but I know what turns our customers on.”

  “What about Gabrielle Phillips?”

  “What about her?”

  “You know what turns her on? You two seem very close.”

  Fraser’s ears colored but he didn’t rise to the bait. “She’s done a great job since taking over that department. The old manager was…” the blush moved from his ears to spread up his neck like a fungus. “The old manager was well liked, but she tended to take on more than she could manage.”

  There was obviously something else going on there. Nicolas tried one more time. “Is Gabrielle a strict manager? Like to keep control, make sure the books are up to date personally, that sort of thing?”

  “She’s not exactly strict, firm but fair is probably how people would describe Gabby. I don’t know about her departmental accounts, but I expect they’d be impeccable; she really has risen to task in the new job. Mr. Able liked her a lot, we all do.” Fraser looked at his watch.

  He was right, this was going nowhere and there were more important things to do. Nicolas stood and put out a hand, Fraser Kilpatrick shook it limply. “Thanks, you best get back to it.”

  What are you doing? He was looking for more information about Ms. Phillips so he could stop the corporate theft she was obviously a part of. Not checking up on her private life? Okay, so maybe he was, but there wasn’t any harm in that. Being well prepared was sensible given his history with her.

  Nicolas gazed out the window again. If anything, the clouds were thicker and the bleak outlook brought a sense of loss crashing down over him, as if Gabrielle had only left him yesterday.

  But it was over five years ago. And this time you’re in charge.

  Turning from the window, Nicolas stalked out of the room, grim determination in every step. He needed to reassure himself that there was nothing left between them. To stop himself thinking about her until he had enough ammunition to destroy her as publicly as possible. Nicolas checked his schedule on his cell as he walked. He might as well start the information gathering process now with a quick visit. Once this was sorted and she was in prison with her father, she’d be out of his life, and out of his mind for good.

  Nicolas waved Gabrielle’s assistant off and burst into the office. Gabrielle paled but didn’t miss a beat as she pulled her conversation to a close and hung up. “I’m sorry, my assistant didn’t tell me I had an appointment with you.”

  “I don’t need an appointment.”

  She shrugged. “If you say so. How can I help?”

  He noticed she kept the safety of her desk between them, her hands slightly white, clinging to the edge of it. Casually he walked around the chair in front of him and perched on the side of her desk, looking down at her. Forced into the weaker position, Gabrielle had to look up at him. He smiled.

  As if defrosting, she smiled back and a glimmer of what he’d once seen in her came to the surface. She put a hand to her hair and toyed with a stray strand. Interesting.

  “I know all about you and Fraser.”

  Her fingers whitened further and she pushed off from her chair, striding over to the window to stand with her back to him. She paused for the longest time. “It’s not what you think.” The words sounded strangled, dredged from some deep and dark place inside.

  For just a moment Nicolas faltered. She was in pain. Real pain. He hesitated. The silence lengthened and he watched her back shudder. Was she crying? He closed the gap between them in two easy steps and took her by the shoulders. When he turned her there were no tears in her eyes, but a longing that took his breath away. As she opened her mouth to speak he couldn’t help but watch her full bottom lip. Couldn’t help but want to own it.

  As if she read his thoughts her hand went back to her hair, and then trailed down to her neck.

  “So you admit it. Nice. A fraudster, a cheat and a home wrecker. You out do yourself Ms. Phillips.”

  She gasped. “A home wrecker?”

  “I know about Fraser. His wife obviously knows about you too and has made him beg off Friday drinks because of it. Poor bastard. What were you trying to get out of him? He doesn’t strike me as someone of influence.”

  Her forehead, usually smooth and untroubled, creased like old parchment paper. “You’ve spoken to him?”

  “Of course. You didn’t think I’d get to where I am without being able to sense when sexual tension is clouding an employee’s judgment.”

  She stared at him. “When did you speak to him?”

  “Just now. In the boardroom.”

  Her face collapsed in on itself and she laughed. Laughed!

  It was Nicolas’s turn to stare. And as he did she pulled at her bottom lip, her eyes glinting at him, inviting him? Promising….? Not letting himself think too hard, he covered her mouth with his. The shock registered in her eyes but as if he’d flicked a switch, suddenly Gabrielle was kissing him back, softening, her body pressed to his chest.

  Damn she felt good. Better than good. Despite the huge differences in their height they’d always fit well together, her tiny frame cradled in his broad one. Pushing his hands into her hair, Nicolas wanted to pull her head back, to lay his teeth on her neck, to open her shirt and take what was rightfully his.

  Stop it. Nicolas pulled his mouth away but didn’t release her. He didn’t usually do self-flagellation, certainly not over something as small as a kiss, but this hadn’t been part of the plan. Yet as Gabrielle sto
od looking up at him, he could hardly stop himself wanting to take her right there and then on her desk. Not now. Not ever again. Drawing on every ounce of control he owned, Nicolas calmed his mind and focused on what he was here to do, not on the formidable desire and forbidden tenderness Gabrielle still elicited from him. But you stopped. You’re in control.

  “Was that to prove you’re more man than Fraser Kilpatrick? No one doubts you, don’t worry. You’ve got the girls here in a flutter. Although they obviously don’t know what you’re really like. I could make a complaint. That was pretty close to sexual harassment.”

  He growled.

  A smile returned to her lips. “Don’t worry, I know it’s not worth it. And anyway it’s almost sweet. You think I had an affair with Fraser Kilpatrick? I would never. That’s too much.”

  Nicolas was surprised that he felt relieved. Then realized she hadn’t denied being involved with someone else called Fraser. “Who else would I be talking about?”

  Turning her face away from him he watched her shoulders still. When she turned back, her confusion, mirth, every expression he’d just witnessed was gone. “So I have a boyfriend called Fraser. So what? I’m not a cheat or a home wrecker.”

  Nothing about being a fraudster. Well they both knew the truth of that, no point going into it again now. She pulled at her bottom lip and Nicolas couldn’t help his gaze going back to it. How did she do it? Get under his skin like that.

  “I don’t believe you got this job without pulling some big favors. No—” he held up a hand to stop her. “I don’t want to hear it. Earlier this morning when I said there wouldn’t be any changes in the departments…” he paused. “I lied. I will be making staff reductions and you’ll be top of the list unless you can prove you really got this job on merit. I’ll see you at the Santa Grotto after close of business tonight and you can show me your work. Prove that you’re worth what I’m paying you.”