Page 70 of Santa Baby

Magic was in the air. I could feel it growing with every turn of my camera’s lens. The thick snow clouds made the Christmas lights stand out even better as I walked through the park. I even convinced a few people to stop, to let me take their portraits, promising to email them when I’d had a second to edit the photos.

But by the time I got back to my apartment, I only had about two hours to get ready for this next event. I was confident I had time to spare, but the moment I closed myself inside, I felt overwhelmed as my eyes scanned the floor and the mountains of party planning materials.

I thought I knew what I wanted. This was my goal, wasn’t it? Be an event planner? Have a massive profile, high-end clients, and money up to the earlobes?

I walked to what was supposed to be a pantry, but I’d taken all the shelving out to hang up my dresses and coats and fished for the blue satin gown I’d worn to the Blue Winter Ball. My fingers brushed over the fabric and I smiled wistfully, remembering that night like it was yesterday. I could wear the dress again and do my hair differently. I would wear the diamond cluster earrings Mason gave me.

My outfit decided upon, I took a quick shower. I wrapped my wet hair in a towel and was busy brushing my teeth when my buzzer went off. I padded to the door, barefoot, wrapped in an old terrycloth robe my mom passed down to me years and years ago, and pressed the call button. “Hello?”

“Delivery for Fia Webster,” a beautiful, sing-song female voice said.

“Oh, uh, I wasn’t expecting anything.” Against my better judgment, I rang her up. It was probably something from Heather. She’d been sending things to my apartment all week in preparation for the party. The chances I’d just let a psycho serial killer into my apartment were slim. Within minutes there was a sharp knock on my door.

I answered, still in my robe, still barefoot, and stepped out into the hallway to find a group of people dressed in what I could only describe as outfits belonging to Santa’s elves but only if they were from the Victorian Era.

My eyes went wide. “Um, what is this?”

The group looked at each other, smiling, and then broke out in song.

I stood there in my robe and watched as a chorus group belted out a song I didn’t know, and it took me a moment to realize it wasn’t a song at all.

“Oh, come all ye merry gentlemen and ladies fair,

To the Christmas Tree Ball, a night beyond compare!

We’ll trim the grandest tree, with ornaments so bright,

Join us for a magical, enchanting night!”

My mouth popped open. My neighbors came out of their apartments to investigate the ruckus, of course. Mrs. Gracey, directly next door, pulled out her ancient flip phone and took a few pictures.

One of the men in the back stepped forward with a large, velvet green envelope and handed it to me. A second caroler pulled a garment box out of thin air, I was pretty sure, and stacked it in my open arms.

“What is going on?” I laughed, choking on the words in utter disbelief.

But the carolers had done their job and sauntered off without saying another word. I turned to look at my neighbors, who shrugged off the strange ordeal like it was just another day in the city and stuff like that happened all the time.

I backed into my apartment, shutting the door with my foot. I set the garment box on my messy dining-room table and weighed the envelope in my hands before ripping it open.

I read it aloud. “It would be my pleasure if you attended my ball tonight on the Museum Mile. Bring an ornament and have your checkbooks ready, it will be a night to remember, or not, depending on how much Dom Perrier you drink.

“P.S. Any mention of Heather Schuyler and her haughty party later this week will get you kicked to the street.”

I smirked, chuckling as I read the note again and again. I found the rivalry between Abigail and Heather to be completely entertaining, especially since I asked Heather personally about it, and she said she and Abigail were the best of friends.

My eyes scanned the invite one more time before I set it down, but then I remembered the garment box. Curiosity seeped into every pore as I slowly pulled the red velvet length of ribbon holding it together and pulled up the lid. Then I gasped.

There was a note from Mason.

“I thought you’d like this. See you tonight. -M”

My heart skipped a beat as I pulled the shiny, emerald green fabric from the box. It was a dress—strapless, sleeveless—the same kind I’d worn to our last event, but it was a masterpiece in comparison. It was completely covered in crystal beading, the emerald beads inlaid with gold. My chest heaved as I let the fabric unfurl to the floor, revealing a full skirt.

A freaking ball gown.

The underskirt was still in the box. I looked down at the dress in my hand, then pressed it to my chest, squealing with delight.

My phone rang on the couch. I hopped over to it, knocking over several piles of planning materials in the process.