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Chapter One
Mateo
“Morning, Mr. Scrooge. Though you don’t deserve it I brought apple cinnamon muffins for everyone. And this,” Porter sailed into my office arms loaded, hand extended. He placed my coffee on the stack of papers in front of me. He handed another to West, who sat in one of the wingback chairs some decorator had chosen to match everything else in the elegant penthouse office suite of Luna Hotels’ headquarters.
My assistant had taken to using the new nickname for me last week after I questioned the budget he’d presented me for the company Christmas party. Who the hell needed three fifty-foot ice Christmas trees when we have the town’s second largest tree in our lobby?
I took a sip of my simple black coffee to try to calm my nerves when what I really wanted was a spiked Irish coffee and a vacation. I lived and breathed this hotel for years and I find myself facing another cold Christmas alone. Which I don’t mind. It’s why this retreat in the middle of North Pole, New York is sought out by everyone from Tinsel Town to Martha’s Vineyard. Contrary to my stance on the holiday—thank God for that—people love Christmas. Our upper clientele love knowing no one will bother them while they enjoy our annual tree lighting.
Instead of focusing on the running list of items I need to check on, I savor another swallow of coffee. Porter knew where to find excellent coffee, one of the reasons I put up with him calling me Scrooge. And unlike my previous assistant, he didn’t drop panties on my desk with the hopes of landing in my bed. Working for a man labeled North Pole’s most eligible bachelor believe me when I say it’s refreshing to step in my office and not see a random thong with a meet me later note.
On the flip side, Porter’s mothering tendencies gets annoying, but far easier to live with than his predecessor’s clumsy attempts to get access to my bank account by thinking I wanted her to wrap her mouth around my dick.
West, my business partner and best friend, chuckled as Porter started tidying up the files on my desk. I sent a withering glance at both of them.
“Careful, Porter, looks like the boss man has lost his sense of humor the second Thanksgiving ended,” West said with a pointed look my way.
Not too far off point. We’ve known each other for years so he knows my lack of enthusiasm for all things Christmas.
“Stuff it,” I retorted dryly.
West harrumphed slouching into his chair a little deeper. “Then again, I think you need to have a sense of humor first in order to lose it.” West rolled his eyes at Porter.
I shook my head and yanked a spreadsheet out from the pile Porter stacked. “I’ll have a sense of humor after last quarter’s reports are done and show the new marketing campaign did its job.”
Porter took the spreadsheet back and swiftly reorganized it into his pile before placing the stack in front of me. “Far be it for me to get personal…”
I leaned back, crossing my ankles in front of me. Porter hadn’t held back about anything personal since the moment I hired him. No reason he should start now.
He arched an eyebrow at me. “You need to get laid. Sir.”
“Jesus. Boundaries, people.”
My eyes peeled to West when he leaned forward in his seat. “He’s not wrong.”
I groaned at my buddy’s words. Not because they were true, but because having this conversation again in less than a week grated on my nerves. West looked like he’d been waiting for an opening on this particular topic for days, but I had fucking work to do.
“Come on. Tell us. How long’s it been, Mateo? You never answered the other day. What?” West scratched at his jaw. “Maybe that hot little blonde with the perfect tits from Los Angeles?” He cupped his hands out in front of him like I’ve been on a dry spell so long I forgot where to find a pair of breasts.
“You know what they say about Mateo being all work and no play.” Porter aimed his comment at West, sliding into the matching chair across him.
West shook his head slowly. “His cock withers and dies,” West finished with a snarky smirk sliding across his face.
“Damn. Wait just a sec. I have an idea.” Porter pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen a few times before handing it over to West. “Have you seen this app yet?”
West checked it out. “Jolly Nights?”
“It’s another one of those dating apps. Though this one doesn’t even pretend to be about finding the love of your life. This one’s exclusively for hook-ups. No relationships. No strings attached. My kind of women.”
West swiped through for another minute. “This one is fucking stacked! Says she’s looking for regular hook-ups. Wait. Never mind. She’s looking for someone discreet who won’t tell her husband.”
I raked my fingers through my hair. “I have too much to do to stand here while you two sign me up for Dial-a-Disaster. Both of you out. Now.”
Instead of scurrying for the nearest exit as the rest of my staff would do, they sank into the chairs in front of me, leaning together as they looked through potential dates. Neither one of them seemed in any hurry to get back to work. Or to leave me to mine.
“Fuck it. Let me see that app,” I growled, reaching across the desk.
Porter, wearing the wickedest shit-eating grin, popped to his feet, phone in hand. Instead of handing it to me, he went for my tablet on the corner of my desk.
