AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Presley’s Holiday Wishlist
1. Go ice skating
2. Visit the local Christmas market
3. Try a roasted chestnut
4. Write a letter to Santa
5. Make a gingerbread house
6. Holiday movie marathon + hot chocolate
7. Decorate a real Christmas tree
8. Kiss under the mistletoe
It would be a pain in the ass to haul a tree up to my fifth-floor apartment, and making a gingerbread house wouldn’t be any fun without it being a competition with my brothers.
I crossed out “kiss under the mistletoe” because there’s no chance of that happening, considering I haven’t even been on a date in over two years. The last guy I dated, Brennan, broke up with me after a month because he said I was a workaholic. Apparently he needed to be with someone who was willing to put their relationship first.
It’s not my fault Jack Sinclair doesn’t understand the term work-life balance. He’s been the bane of my existence since I started working here three years ago. God, even his name is pretentious. It’s like his parents wanted him to be a control freak with a stick shoved up his ass.
He might be a temperamental bastard, but there is no denying his brilliance. He’s a thirty-two-year-old billionaire CEO of a global investment firm that he single-handedly built from the ground up. His credentials are impressive as hell, and I’ve learned a lot from working for him, but it comes with a multitude of challenges.
At six-two, he commands every room he walks into, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s sexy as hell either. He has honey-colored eyes, black hair that’s always perfectly styled in a crew cut, and a rugged jawline that accentuates his features. Did I mention he looks utterly irresistible in a three-piece charcoal-gray suit? I always assumed that the stereotypical hot billionaire type was only reserved for romance novels, but Jack is proof that’s not true.
If only he had a personality to match his appearance.
“Ms. Stafford,” he calls from his office, like he can sense that I’m ignoring his email.
He’s never embraced the concept of sending me a chat or calling me on the phone like a civil human being. No, he prefers to bark orders at me like a dog meant to heel. Thank God everyone else has left for the night.
I fold up my wishlist and tuck it into my pocket before marching into his office.
“You shouted, Mr. Sinclair?” I deadpan.
“Why haven’t you responded to my email?”
“You mean the one you sent two minutes ago?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t bother looking up from his computer. “Block out my calendar for tomorrow so we can prepare for our meetings with Mr. Wescott’s team.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not available.” I square my shoulders, bracing for his imminent outburst.
“Why the hell not? It’s your job.” He stops typing in favor of glaring across at me.
I’m glad I finally have his undivided attention.
“Because I’ll be out of town. It’s been on your calendar since January, and I’ve sent you monthly reminders so you wouldn’t forget that I’d be out of the office during the last two weeks of the year.”
“Reschedule,” he demands.
God, the nerve of this man. I clench my fists, trying to suppress my anger before I say something that’ll get me fired. You’d think after three years of hard work and dedication I would have earned an ounce of his respect, but apparently not.
“Let me get this straight,” I start. “You’re asking me to change my holiday plans with my family?” There’s a hint of disdain in my tone. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m not canceling my vacation.”
“This is the biggest acquisition in the company’s history. I need you here.”
