You Sleigh Me (EBOOK)

Farrah

I pressed sweaty palms to my plaid skirt while mentally rehearsing my pitch. 

Mister Charles, thank you for seeing me. As you would be aware, your father was a long-term supporter of the Capricorn Cove Wildlife Education and Rehabilitation Centre. In his honour, we've—

"He's ready to see you now," the receptionist interrupted my silent practice. 

"Thank you." I picked up my bag, which contained my proposal, sucking in a deep breath and squaring my shoulders. 

You can do this, Farrah. You've done this a hundred times before. You've got this. 

I may have entered a million offices just like this one, knocking on doors and asking for donations to assist us in continuing to run the Centre, but never had it been more crucial than at this moment.

COVID-19 had drastically reduced our donor base.  Over the two years since it had first hit, we'd had more than half our operating budget slashed, which meant that our little Centre was struggling – big time. 

Inside the room sat Mr. Charles the younger, the impressive view of the city at his back. 

Guess the company's still going well enough to afford top floor position. 

That had to be a good sign.  Mr. Charles' father had been our biggest donor for the last five years, contributing over a million dollars to our operating budget. Sadly, Mr. Charles Senior had passed, leaving his son to take over the company. 

I'd met the son a few times and been rather underwhelmed during each interaction. 

"Mr. Charles." I held out my hand, striding confidently towards the desk. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Ms. Sharif." He accepted my handshake but didn't invite me to sit. 

Uh-oh. 

"I see no reason to keep you for longer than necessary." He cleared his throat, looking down at the papers on his desk as he delivered the news. "Rattler Industries won't be supporting your little Centre any longer. We've decided to shift our philanthropic efforts in another direction."

I blinked, attempting to process his words. "I… I'm sorry?"

"We won't be contributing any financial support to your Centre.”

I swear I heard the tires screeching and the smashed steel and glass of a car crash, followed by the horrified screams of all my employees as I destroyed our work. 

"Mr. Charles, sir. Please, a whole wing of our Centre is named after Rattler Industries. You're our biggest donor. I can appreciate that you—"

"My mind is made up." He straightened, buttoning his suit jacket. "If you'll excuse me, I have another appointment."

In a daze, I left his office, stumbling past the sympathetic gaze of his secretary and out to the elevator. I slapped at the button, staring unblinkingly at the numbers as they counted up to my floor. 

The animals. My staff. The turtle extension. Oh my gods, the turtle extension! What am I going to do? 

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped in, turning automatically and staring at the closing doors. 

"Ground?" The cart guy asked. 

"Um, yeah, thanks."

They're rich enough to afford a building that has a guy whose sole duty is to press buttons in an elevator. 

The shock wore off, reality hitting me like a punch to the guts. 

I'd put this trip on my credit card, spending money I didn't have in hopes this would be our saving grace. I'd devoted hours of my own time developing my proposal. I'd bought a fancy, itchy suit and kept the tags, knowing I'd need to return it once I got home. 

Oh Gods, this is going to ruin us. 

The elevator doors slid open, admitting another passenger. 

I shuffled back, staring down at the pointed toes of my borrowed heels. The damned things pinched like the dickens, but I'd done it. I'd squeezed my giant ass feet into these tiny fucking heels in hopes of impressing a man who hadn't even invited me to sit down. 

Fuck you, Mr. Charles Jr. Fuck your fucking face, you fucking fuck faced asshole! 

Thinking it didn't make me feel any better. 

The elevator stopped again, letting out passengers and taking on new ones. 

I hate these shoes. 

Anger gave way to despair, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. 

I’ve let my staff down. 

We'd signed up for the build three years ago. Mr. Charles and other donors had generously contributed to phase one and indicated that they'd continue to do so. By phase two, I'd expected to have all the donors lined up. 

No one had expected COVID to hit. The pandemic had dried up my donations, and people were no longer willing to part with their hard-won cash.

The elevator dinged again, the doors sliding open once more. 

"Farrah?"

I looked up, blinking through the shimmer of tears. 

"Wolf?"

He grinned, entering the lift, holding his elbow out for a bump. 

I'd last seen him, he'd been dressed as incognito Spiderman for Halloween – and I'd made out with him briefly. I blamed the cheap wine and nostalgia. 

Since then, I'd seen him floating around Capricorn Cove, our hometown, and somehow managed to avoid crossing paths. I still felt embarrassed about that kiss though I knew I had no reason to be.  

Today he looked every inch the hot rock star, with his perfect amount of scruff, his slightly too-long hair, and the glint of devilish mischief in his eye.   

I lifted my elbow, bumping it with his, trying to put on a brave face as I noticed his leather jacket.

Probably cost more than I earnt last year.  

"What are you doing here?" he asked as his entourage filled the lift. 

"I could say the same about you." I tried for a smile, knowing it fell flat. 

He searched my face, his gaze growing concerned. "Are you okay?"

My breath caught, the weight of my failure punching me in the gut. "I'm… no." 

"Wolf?" The PA beside him held up a phone. "It's Glenn, he needs to talk to you about the—"

Wolf accepted the phone, his gaze still locked on me. "Glenn? Yeah, can I call you back? Great."

He hung up, his face concerned as he continued to stare at me. "You wanna get a coffee? Go somewhere and talk about it?"

I huffed out a wet laugh. "Can rock stars still do that? Just go somewhere and get coffee?"

His lips twitched, a small grin pulling at his mouth. If a paparazzi had captured that look, I had no doubt they'd be able to sell it to a magazine that millions of young girls read, each cutting out the picture and sticking it to their wall. 

Maybe I should do that? Sell his picture? Surely that would be worth a few bucks. 

I immediately and vehemently rejected the thought. Never would I ever sink to that level.  

"We have our ways," he said with a grin. 

We reached the ground floor, and the other passengers in the lift, including his people, exited first. For a moment, that left just Wolf, me and the button guy standing in the small space. 

"I'm not gonna be good company," I warned, brushing at my cheek, frustrated when I found a stray tear. 

"I don't know about that." He reached out, hooking his arm with mine, guiding us into the lobby. "You're definitely better than my last executive-directed date."

I lifted an eyebrow in question. 

Wolf laughed, giving an exaggerated shudder as he guided me across the lobby. "Long story short, it was a favour to a friend of my agent. The girl climbed across the table halfway through dinner and attempted to cut a piece of my hair with a butter knife." 

I laughed, shaking my head. "Dude, your life is so weird."

"Don't I know it."

Outside cameras flashed, capturing what would, for anyone else, have been an intimate moment between old-school friends. 

"Ignore them," he muttered, taking my hand and ploughing us through the gathering. "My car's over here."

Sure enough, a town car idled by the curb, Wolf's bodyguard clearing a path. He pulled the door open, holding it for us as Wolf dropped my hand, his palm putting pressure on my lower back, guiding me passed him and helping me into the car. He followed a moment later, the guard rounding the car and getting in the front. 

"What about your entourage?" I asked as bulbs flashed against the tinted windows, no doubt capturing Wolf and me mid-buckle. 

How interesting that picture must be. Not. 

He flicked a thumb over his shoulder. "Second car." 

Our transport pulled away from the curb, merging with the traffic.

"Where to?" the driver asked. 

"Benson's. Thanks, Jim."

"Benson's?" 

Wolf shot me a smile. "It's an exclusive club. Invite only. Think of it like a place where the rich and famous can go to chill out. No phones, no cameras, and no bodyguards required. Safe, secure and private."

I shook my head. "I honestly don't know how you live like this. It seems more like a prison than a pleasure."

Wolf blew out a breath, his lips quirking at one corner. "Some days it is. Then I stand in front of a packed stadium listening as they sing my words back to me, words I've crafted, drafted and sung, and I remember why I do this."

I reached out, giving his arm a squeeze. "I always knew you were a singer."

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat, his easy smile as familiar to me as my own. "Yeah?"

"Mm.” I nodded, glancing away, finding myself too distracted by the warmth in his familiar eyes. "I mean, your rendition of Gomez in the Addams Family musical was pretty awesome."

He laughed, the sound rich and rolling. "Well, if high school musicals are anything to go by, then you should be the queen of darkness with your stunning performance of Morticia." 

His eyes flashed, and I wondered if he remembered Halloween night when we'd stolen kisses. 

Warm beer, hot kisses, the cool of the night. His hand on my breast, my fingers pulling the Spiderman mask from his head. A noise. A scramble. A moment interrupted. 

During high school, we'd been friends without a lick of chemistry between us. Or at least none on his part. Me? I'd been a bundle of hormonal longing for young Wolf. But necessity and the knowledge that Wolf lived way outside my league had kept me in check. 

But his return to Capricorn Cove had ushered in a new dynamic in our acquaintance – a sexual simmering that shimmered between us like the haze of heat on a hot summer's day. 

"We're here." 

I glanced at the bodyguard who'd spoken, the car rolling to a stop in front of a nondescript building. It blended with the others in this neighbourhood, an apartment building that had seen better days. 

"Is this it?" I asked, unclicking my seat belt.

"Yep. Trust me, its façade is a ruse for what's inside."

We exited the car, Wolf rounding it to place a hand on my lower back, guiding me inside. The lobby was as innocuous as the exterior, cheap white tile, a few patchy leather seats, a bay of elevators and an old wooden reception desk. The only inkling that all was not as it seemed were the three men seated behind the desk. Where most buildings might have one elderly doorman, this place had three strapping young men all watching us with practised looks of suspicion. 

Wolf pulled his wallet from his back pocket, flicking it open to remove a small card. He pressed it to a sensor resting on the desk, the sensor making a small ding of approval. 

"Mr. Rodriguez, welcome back." One of the guards greeted, looking from his computer to us. "Are you bringing a guest with you today?"

"Yep."

The guard nodded, and a second one reached for a tablet, unlocking it and wiping an antibacterial cloth across the screen before handing it to me.

"The contract and non-disclosure are there. We require your ID, a signature, and a thumbprint.” 

I lifted my handbag, digging through the mess to pull my purse free and find my ID. 

He scanned it in as I read through the terms and conditions. 

"Holy hell," I breathed, my eyes bugging out at the penalties listed. "Wolf, this is insane."

"Privacy costs." He shrugged. "We can go somewhere else if this makes you uncomfortable."

"No, no, it's fine." 

I pressed my thumb to the tablet, the screen scanning it in. 

"Here you go, Ms. Sharif." The second guard handed me back my ID. "A copy of the contract will be emailed to you shortly, but you're good to head up."

The third guard stood, holding out a clear lock box with a number printed in plain black on the front. 

"Phones, cameras, USBs, listening devices, smart watches, anything electronic," the guard rattled off in a bored tone.

I glanced at Wolf but did as directed, dropping my phone into the box. 

Done, Wolf led me to the elevator bay, the doors of one cab gliding open. We stepped inside, and my final glimpse of the lobby was one of Wolf's bodyguards leaning against the desk and chatting to the three doormen. 

"This is super weird," I finally said, my eyes trained on the ascending numbers flashing on the screen. 

"Oh, believe me, I know."

On level three, the doors slid open, revealing a scene so lush, so decadent that for a moment, I wondered if we had been transported to another world. 

"Come on, let's get that coffee."

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