Please let that hurricane come early.



Last Christmas

Punta Cana, Dominican Republic

Later that night

The lobby’s palm trees twinkle as Georgia and I pose for pictures. We’re donning plush white robes from the spa, courtesy of our upgrade. And thanks to the manager—and the pending storm, we have the entire building to ourselves.

Grey clouds are hovering above the island, and heavy rain is attacking the windows, but the staff doesn’t seem too concerned.

“I need to grab a different reindeer headband from the gift-shop,” Georgia says. “You want one?”

“Yeah, but can you get me an angel instead of the reindeer?”

“Absolutely.” She grabs her purse and rushes down the steps.

When I’m sure that she’s away, I pull out my phone and log into the private Boss-Snark forum I started when I first started working at West Media. I can’t resist knowing what’s going on at the party right now, and for some reason, I feel like something is slightly off.


Boss-Snark Forum 1.0

Subject: Garrett West

Russ76: Okay. Who the heck pissed in his Cheerios this morning? WTF is up with him today?

LilyV8: Right? He’s being far more bullish about deadlines than usual. Anyone from the executive team know what’s going on? Where’s @SavannGrey?

Heather20: I was drinking spiked eggnog on the beach earlier this morning and saw him pacing/shouting on the phone. Whatever it is, he’s PISSED. (He looks even sexier pissed, I must say.)

Russ76: @LilyV8 I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. Does anyone know the scent of cologne he wears? I’m thinking about getting my husband some.

Heather20: It’s called ‘I’m Fucking Soulless.’ LMAO. It probably cost 2k a bottle anyway… #gethimsomecalvinklein


I scroll through the other threads—checking in on who’s working on what while attempting to piece together what’s upset Garrett.

Is it me?

The sound of heavy footsteps is suddenly behind me, and then I hear someone clearing a throat.

“You don’t look like you’re suffering at all …” It’s a deep voice that I know all too well. “Are you enjoying your time away from me?”

What the fuck?

Sucking in a breath, I turn around and find myself face to face with the bane of my existence. The sexiest man who has ever set foot in Manhattan. Instead of his usual, custom three-piece suit and five-thousand-dollar tie, he’s wearing jeans and a dark grey T-shirt that hugs his muscles in all the right places.

His deep blue eyes are locked on mine, and his smile is more lethal than usual.

For a few seconds, I forget that he’s Satan in the flesh—that he’s flown thirteen hours to confront me in another country.

So, that wire message actually happened …

“Well?” His lips curve into a smirk. “Are you enjoying it, Miss Grey?”

I swallow. “How the hell did you find me?”

“You could’ve gone to the spa in Hawaii,” he says, eyeing my robe. “I would’ve paid for it.”

“How the hell did you find me?” I repeat.

“Well, like the very generous and concerned boss that I am, I stopped by your condo,” he says. “With enough soup and gourmet boxes to get you through the week.”

“You could’ve used Uber Eats.”

“I thought my favorite advisor was worthy of a personal handoff.” He steps closer, narrowing his eyes at me. “So, imagine my complete shock and surprise when you weren’t there, and that if you really had a flesh-eating disease, you would be in a hospital. I called every single one in the state.”

“I drove to the one in New Jersey.”

“You don’t have a driver’s license, let alone a car.” He pauses, turning me on against my will—preventing me from jumping over the railing and running back to my room.

“I greeted the team in Hawaii for day one and decided it would be best to let you think that you got away with this,” he says. “For what it’s worth, I’m highly impressed with the level of detail that you put into this plan. That’s probably why I made you one of my top advisors.”

“Is it too late to be demoted?”

He smiles, closing the gap between us. You’re welcome for the upgrade, by the way. I thought you deserved to sleep in the best suite this place offered.”

“I also deserve to spend the holidays how I choose.”

“I agree.” He looks at his watch. “You have the rest of tonight through tomorrow afternoon. Since the storm is expected to worsen tomorrow night, I decided to arrange transportation to Hawaii for you. You and your sister can share my other jet.”

“My sister doesn’t want to leave here.”

“Oh my god, we’re leaving?” Georgia suddenly rounds the corner. “Before the storm hits? And we’re going to Hawaii?”

“Yes.” Garrett answers, keeping his eyes on mine. “You are.”

“Oh my god, thank you!” She lets out a sigh of relief. “Your boss isn’t that awful of a person at all, Savannah!” She tilts her head to the side. “And you totally lied about what he looks like. Wow.”

Garrett smiles at her before turning his attention back towards me.

I mouth, ‘I fucking hate you’ to him, and cross my arms. “I think it’s way past time for you to let this office party go. This tradition isn’t necessary.”

“It’s something that my late father, who I respect and love, implemented.”

“You hate your father, and he’s still alive. I saw him at a coffee shop two days ago.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“Let me out of this office party, and I’ll let you know.”


We stare at each other in a stubborn stalemate, the same one we face every day in the office. I refuse to make the next move.

“Miss Grey,” he says, “the jet will be ready to take you to Hawaii at three o’clock.”

“I’ll show up for it at four.”

“I figured, so I told the pilot to prepare for takeoff at five.” He steps back, looking me up and down. “If there’s nothing else we need to discuss at this moment, I’ll see you at the office party.”

I bite my tongue and let him win this round, let him walk away under his aura of cockiness. With every step he takes, I vow that I will have a new job before next year’s office party.

I will never let this happen again.




This Christmas

Manhattan, New York

Please don’t talk to me right now. Please don’t talk to me …

I twist the key in the lock of my brownstone, hoping it’ll give way and save me from an awkward conversation with the woman who lives next door.