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“Mmmm. I want to say at one of our retreats? Or maybe one of the summer cookouts? Maybe both?”

“Oh no wonder she was looking at me like she hates me.”

“Ignore her. I do feel bad that Liam leads her on, but aside from that she actually kind of sucks.” Liam and Marissa are good friends so I wonder if she’s also a bit jaded by whatever Liam has told her. She turns off the light in her bathroom before moving towards her closet to grab a pair of heels. “So…are you going to make a move on the boss man tonight?”

“What?!” I shake my head. “How much have you had to drink already?”

She shakes her head, refuting my claim that alcohol is the only reason for her statement. “Only like two of these. You totally should!”

“Why would I do that? Do you want me to get fired?”

She snorts. “First of all, if he went around firing every employee that’s hit on him, he’d have no employees.”

A spike of jealousy shoots through me. “Oh? So…you’ve hit on him?”I try to sound as relaxed as possible.

“Feeling territorial?” she asks with a smirk. “But no, he screamed at me on my first day, and then I spent the day crying in the bathroom after that so he really does nothing for my vagina.” She rolls her eyes. “And I don’t mean literally every employee obviously. I just mean women flirt with him all the time. You’ve got eyes. I’m sure you can see why.”

I do remember her telling me when I started that nothing could be worse than her first day, but I never realized it was because he yelled at her. I find myself getting irritated at his lack of sensitivity.On her first day? Rude.“Well, I’m not going to hit on him. Besides, he’s like my dad’s age,” I explain. I’ve never been attracted to an older man, and I’ll admit this attraction to Mr. Beckham feels…different yethot.

“So? A little daddy kink never hurt anyone.”

A flash of going over his knee as he spanks me comes out of nowhere and knocks me a little off kilter. I shift my weight, trying my best to squeeze my thighs together as I imagine saying thatDword while his lips explore my body.

“Uh huh.” My eyes snap to Marissa’s and see the look she’s giving me. “That’s what I thought.”

It’s almost nine before we all get to the party and it’s definitely in full swing when we enter the huge hall that they rented out for the occasion. There are several Christmas trees of different sizes set up around the room, some decorated, and some covered in fake snow, and one large one positioned at the entrance to the party where a photographer is taking pictures. There is garland hanging in every archway with strings of white lights and gold and ivory ribbon wrapped around it. All of the standing tables are covered with a deep forest green tablecloth with holly and tiny lit candles on top. Everything looks so festive and the room smells like cinnamon and pine and a wave of sad nostalgia hits me.

Christmas is supposed to be a joyous time, but for me and my brother, it just reminds us of our parents splitting up. Most teenagers our age were getting their first cell phones for Christmas, but Lucas and I were getting the news that our mom was moving out and that we’d be enrolled in new schools the following year.

I can still remember hearing my dad asking her to wait until after Christmas to tell us she was moving out to give us one more holiday of normalcy, but she’d wanted to spend it withhim. I scrunch my nose thinking about my stepfather who I’ve said maybe a hundred words total to him in the six years they’ve been married. My dad wasn’t particularly upset that she was moving out from what I observed, but he was worried about me and my brother, and how every Christmas would now be associated with our parents splitting up. Even now, the Christmas season usually reminds meat least oncethat I cried myself to sleep the night of Christmas Eve. Not to mention, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve actually seen my mother on Christmas Day since then.

“You okay? You kind of spaced out.” Marissa stands in front of me with two glasses of champagne with cranberries floating inside of it. She hands it to me and I take a healthy sip, already feeling the buzz from the vodka I had at her house wearing off.

“Yeah, Christmas just brings back memories, that’s all.” My eyes pan the room and as they scan the table with the entire senior team—including my very delicious boss who I’d just had my first fantasy about—everything around me just seems to fade away. His eyes are already on me slowly dragging up my frame and when they meet mine, he smiles and nods like he likes what I’m wearing or he’s happy I’m here. Either way, I relish in his unspoken praise.

“Oh my God, you so love him. How did I not realize this?!” When I turn my head to Marissa, she’s staring at me. “Come, let’s get some food.”

I follow her whispering, “I don’t love him, Marissa. Besides, there are no fraternization policies, remember?”

“So? Don’t get caught!” She giggles as we make our way towards one of the massive tables lined with every food possible. “I caught that look he was giving you. He is unashamedly into you, Raegan.”

I want to tell her about going on the Miami trip with him a day early, but I decide now is not the time.I take another sip of the champagne, hoping the bubbles will settle the butterflies floating around in my stomach brought on by Marissa saying he’s into me.

“You wouldn’t judge me?”

“Judge you for what?” she asks as she opens one of the trays.

“I mean…say I did…” I pan the room, my eyes searching for him before I turn back to her when I don’t see him in the same spot. “You wouldn’t judge me for hooking up with the boss? Don’t people hate women like that? Will people think I’m just trying to sleep my way to the top?”

“First of all, no one is going to know. So no one will think that,” she says as we continue to move through the line. “Here, the crab balls are bomb. The restaurant that usually caters our events is the best in the city!” She puts some on my plate. “Definitely get the lobster too.”

“And second of all?” I press. “What about you?”

“Why would I judge you or think that? We’re friends. Why wouldn’t I want you to get some?” She giggles as we move through the rest of the line and move to a high-top table.

“I’m not saying it’s going to happen,” I tell her as I take a sip of my champagne.

A waiter walks by carrying a tray of more glasses and Marissa plucks two as he passes. “Thank you, sir! I’ll take those.”

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