Page 4 of Santa Baby

“The restaurant is closed,” I began to say, but then I recognized the woman, and my words turned into a frown.

Fia. Young, beautiful Fia. Her dark hair was thick and bouncy as she stepped inside, giving her long, black wool trench coat to the hostess with a smile that could light up Times Square. I’d only met her the one time, at the horrible Christmas party two years ago, when Colin brought her as his plus-one. I’d glanced at her once while making the rounds before going back to my drink in peace, letting the party I hosted go on without me.

But now she was here, and her dark brown eyes were locked with mine. Shit. I thought I’d thought this through. I could have put an ad out for a stand-in girlfriend for the holidays on one of those websites for Sugar Babies that the wealthy, not-so-single men in my circles loved to frequent, but I chose something closer to home instead, and now I might be in trouble.

Fia’s eyes caught the light of the chandelier in the center of the restaurant as she beamed at me, turning those dark brown wells of emotion into something brighter, something a lot like the fine whiskey I’d spent my life meticulously crafting.

“Darling,” she drawled dramatically, batting her long, thick eyelashes at me. She strode up to my side, reaching out like she was going to take my arm. “I’m so sorry I’m late. This blowout took longer than I expected and the stylist⁠—”

“No one is here yet.” I looked down at her, and her hand dropped and the practiced, loving smile on her face shattered, revealing, I assumed, her true nature. My gaze scanned her outfit, a tasteful dress with long sleeves and a wrapped waist that showed off her curves. “What happened to the dress I sent to your apartment?”

“Hello, I’m Fia.” She glared as she stuck her hand out. “Nice to meet you.” The little lift of annoyance in her tone made me pause before taking her hand and giving it a single shake.

“Mason—”

“I know who you are,” she cut in, shaking her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. Scanning the room, she turned her head to look through the archway leading toward the immaculately decorated table and sighed, glancing up at me. “The dress didn’t fit, and it was a little matronly, don’t you think?”

“I thought it was fine.”

“It was ugly.” She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Look, this is a super weird thing to ask someone to do, you know? Pretending to be your girlfriend for the holidays. I feel like, given the circumstances, you can at least allow me to dress myself.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to her. She was right. This wasn’t something I wanted to do, but I had to. I didn’t have much of a choice. “Thank you for donating your services to the cause. This dress is fine, but it’s… very pink.”

She caught the slightly uncertain hesitation between the words and rolled her eyes to mine. “I’m doing this because I owe my brother a favor, and apparently, he owes you a favor, too. So, I didn’t have much of a choice, did I? And pink is my favorite color, so expect to be seeing it a lot more, darling.” She shrugged her shoulders and proceeded to step away from me, eyeing the restaurant at large.

Colin had told me all about her, of course. Fia was a photographer and kept herself relatively busy, but she generally made most of her income over the summer shooting weddings. Colin mentioned she was fiery and a little hard to please, but he didn’t mention anything about her looks, and I’d been too far in my own head to notice much of her at the Christmas party two years ago. I watched her walk the length of the table, adjusting napkins. Her dress hugged every single ample curve, and my mouth went a little dry when she bent just a touch to pick up a random piece of fruit that went with the centerpiece.

She was beautiful. A masterpiece, really. Long, dark brown hair that burned a deep mahogany in the candlelight. Suntanned skin and freckles across the bridge of her nose. Maybe I was looking at her too closely. This was my best friend’s little sister, after all, and this was supposed to be a professional type of arrangement.

“Are we engaged?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me. Amber light splayed across her heart-shaped face, highlighting the straight bridge of her dainty nose and the roundness of her lips.

I cleared my throat. “No, we’re not.”

“Where did we meet?”

“Just use the Christmas party. Colin will also be here tonight and it’s obvious you’re related. He would have introduced us, and we have been seeing each other exclusively for two years.”

“And still no ring?” Her soft, slightly mischievous smile burrowed into my chest. While it had always been easy for me to keep people at arm’s length, Fia seemed like the sort that had the ability to get under my skin. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“Do you plan on proposing?” she asked, taking a few steps in my direction. Her heels, the same color as her dress, clicked across the expensive as hell wood floor as she closed the distance between us. “We’ve been together for two years, after all.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Someone might ask. I’m sure, since I’m being introduced as your long-time girlfriend, people will assume we’re madly in love. Something like that should be on your mind.” She smiled and shook her head. “Get your act together, mister.”

I wondered if the staff had turned up the heat in the building because it was suddenly stifling. “Sure. I have a three-carat diamond ring in my safe at home. I’m just waiting for the right moment to pop the question. But you don’t know that yet.”

She hummed, shaking her head as she reached up to adjust my tie. Her touch wasn’t expected, but I didn’t step away like my mind told me to. “Anyone marrying you would have six carats, don’t you think? You’re obviously good for it.” She adjusted my collar, smoothing her hands over my tuxedo jacket. “And you’re proposing on New Year’s. Because I love fireworks.”

“That’s not going to work,” I managed to bite out even though my mind and body were at odds. “I can’t fake an engagement when this ends on New Year’s Day.”

“I’ll say no, don’t worry,” she said, grinning. “Then you’ll be back on the market, and whatever girl you’re trying to make jealous will feel bad for you and jump back into your arms.”

“Is that what you think this is about?” I choked out, but a couple walked through the entrance, greeted by the staff.

Fia stepped away, smiling devilishly as she turned toward the guests arriving for the dinner party. Everyone was bundled against the chill in the air in fur coats and dressed to the nines.

“Why else would you be doing it?” She threw me one last look over her shoulder, tilting her head toward the table. “I hate the cornucopia. It’s a little much, don’t you think?”