Page 56 of Santa Baby

Before I could respond, my eyes were locked on the TV, which was stuck on the local news. Mason’s face appeared, solemn, his eyes empty and dark. Frozen, I watched him explain the reason for recalling almost all of Heritage Spirits’ stock, putting a hold on new shipments. He explained that he was doing everything in his power to ensure the public was safe after a massive, disastrous contamination event in their holiday spirit line.

But I barely heard the words. I just stared at him, reading between the lines, noticing the way his fake, practiced smile betrayed the utter look of failure and exhaustion behind his eyes.

Had this been why I had barely heard from him this past week? Why didn’t he say anything about it to me?

Mom walked into the living room with a bowl of soup on a tray. Her eyes swept over the TV, and she clicked her tongue. “Colin told me about this.”

“Colin?” I croaked as she placed the tray on the coffee table. “What happened?”

“It sounds like the entire company is spiraling. Something about barrels being contaminated with menthol or something.” She waved a hand. “Colin barely explained. He’s been at the office at all hours since Monday trying to salvage things.”

And so had Mason. Guilt washed over me, choking me. I was so incredibly thankful I hadn’t sent that text.

“Eat, get some rest,” Mom said, glancing at the TV once more before fluttering back to the kitchen.

I took a few spoonfuls of soup, enough to appease her, and then rushed back upstairs to change back into my jeans. When I rushed to a stop in the kitchen, Mom made a face, shaking her head and pointing toward the living room.

I cut her off before she could say anything. “I have to go back to the city. I’ll call you later, okay? I’m fine, really!”

“Fia!”

I was already shrugging on my coat and rushing out the door before her voice could reach me.

The street was icy, slick with fresh, powdery snow, but I didn’t slow to a walk. I ran all the way to the subway, catching the train back to the city seconds before the doors shut.

But I wasn’t going back to my apartment. I had something more important to do.

24

MASON

The skyline blurred with snow as I swiveled back and forth in my desk chair, nursing a second glass of whiskey. Not the whiskey contaminated with menthol, although part of me wouldn’t have minded the full body stupor and dirt nap that would have followed. The lack of sleep was getting to me as I clicked my mouse, blearily staring at the most recent reports regarding the barrels at the distillery. I’d recalled everything, every single damn bottle of my product as a precaution, and that turned out to be overzealous, which I’d known from the beginning, but I’d done it anyway.

It was six in the evening, by no means late, but the most recent reports from the lab I’d received over email within the last ten minutes couldn’t wait. I picked up my office phone and dialed the foreman at the distillery across town. He answered on the first ring. “Boss?”

“Everything else was clean. The vodka, gin, and the whiskey and scotch barrels from our main supplier. The only contamination was in the new supplier’s barrels.” I ran my hands through my hair, slouching with relief. “We’re in the green again.”

He sighed with relief. “I’ll tell your guys, we got a shipment of the clear spirits going out tomorrow, but other than that, it’s going to be quiet here until after the holidays.”

“Take the time off,” I cut in, leaning back in my chair.

“You should too, boss.”

I kept the phone to my ear for another few seconds before hanging up and turning back to my computer. This was far from over. Now that we’d established what was contaminated, we still needed to get the products outside of the recall back on the shelves.

I sent the results and a plan of action to the various department heads, calling for a meeting tomorrow morning, and shut my computer down for the first time in days.

That’s it, I guess. I could go home and sleep. I could eat something while sitting down, watching TV, instead of hurrying through a granola bar or protein shake between meetings.

I could call Fia. Hell, I could go to her apartment, fall to my knees, and beg her forgiveness for blowing her off all week.

I drained the rest of my drink, savoring the burn, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed a shadow passing the veiled glass wall separating my corner office from view of the lobby where Gabby’s empty desk sat only a few feet away.

I wasn’t expecting the man who darkened my office doorway but maybe I was. It was only a matter of time.

Dad didn’t bother closing the door behind him as he entered my office, his face cast in shadow. He looked around, noticing my clean desk, the single email chain opened on my desktop.

“Were you thinking you’d find things in disarray?” I said flatly. “That the movers would be here to take apart my furniture and my employees would be carrying boxes of their things out onto the street?”