Is This A Christmas Miracle?

The cab rolled to a smooth stop in front of the building, and for a long, breathless moment, Melody forgot how to breathe. This was a restaurant? She knew just by seeing out here, the meals here would cost an arm and a leg.

She stepped out slowly, her heel touching the ground like a queen. This dress deserved its own spotlight. Tara had insisted, forced was a better word, that Melody wear one of her designer gowns. A deep emerald green slip dress that hugged her softly like it had been tailored for her. A minimalist diamond necklace sat perfectly on her collarbone, and her hair was swept into soft curls.

She looked like she belonged here.

The restaurant glowed with soft lights as she walked in, feeling nervous, she swallowed.

Instantly, the atmosphere wrapped around her like velvet. Soft jazz music rolled over the room, blending with quiet laughter and the clinking of champagne flutes. The air smelled like rosemary, burnt caramel, and expensive perfume.

A hostess approached immediately, wearing a black fitted suit with a gold brooch that had her name written on it.

“Good evening, ma’am. Do you have a reservation?”

Melody nodded. “Yes, I’m meeting someone. Logan Russo.”

Everything changed.

The hostess’s expression softened into near reverence. “Oh! Of course, Ma'am…” She didn’t even ask for a last name. “Right this way. Mr. Russo is expecting you.”

Two servers appeared instantly from where Melody didn’t know. Maybe they materialized from thin air. Their posture straightened, their steps more precise. They actually seemed honored to escort her.

Are they following her because they know she doesn't fit in, making sure she doesn't trip and break something? Hot headed bastards.

They led her through the grand dining hall, past tables draped in white linen and candles that flickered like stars in a dim, intimate sky. At the far end of the room, separated from the crowd by subtle distance and even subtler wealth, sat a private table.

And he was already there. Logan stood the moment he saw her. And for the first time since she’d met him, the smug smile dropped from his face.

He looked… stunned.

As though she’d stepped out of a painting and walked straight into his life. His eyes swept over her with slow disbelief, and when she reached the table, he pulled out her seat himself.

“You look stunning.” He said.

Melody forced a polite smile. “Thank you.” She mouthed. But thanks to Tara, good thing she didn't wear one of her worn dresses.

He chuckled, releasing a smooth sound that somehow melted into the jazz around them.

She sat, trying to ignore the way her heart thudded at the way he still stared at her, like she didn’t quite look real.

He took his seat, adjusting the cuff of his perfectly tailored jacket. God, he looked even more annoyingly handsome tonight. Dark navy suit, crisp white shirt, no tie, effortless and expensive.

A server appeared with the menu.

“Would you like your usual, Mr. Russo?”

Logan shook his head without looking away from Melody. “Bring me the most expensive bottle you have. And something special from the chef.”

“Right away, sir.”

Melody lifted her menu casually and nearly had a stroke. Her eyes widened. “Oh my God.” She whispered it before she could stop herself.

Logan looked amused. “Problem?”

“Problem?!” she hissed under her breath, tilting the menu toward him as if he wasn’t the one paying. “The food here cost a fortune.” Eating a year's worth of food is diabolical, she thought to herself.

He bit back a smile. “You’re not paying for it.”

“Well, thank God,” she muttered, flipping the page with unnecessary aggression. 

He leaned back, enjoying himself far too much. Dinner arrived, plated beautifully enough to belong in a museum. Despite her earlier complaints, the flavors exploded on her tongue, sophisticated, balanced, ridiculously delicious.

She tried not to moan, but failed.

Logan raised a brow. “Good?”

“Perfect.”

Another laugh, warm and low. As they ate, the conversation flowed easily. He asked her lots of questions and she eventually told him about her ex fiancee and how heartbroken she felt, especially since she'll be selling her pastry shop.

He listened to her, no pity, just pure curiosity in his eyes. That was what she wanted, and it almost felt like a luxury worth more than the wine he’d ordered.

“What about you?” she asked. “What does Logan Russo do? Other than barging into people .”

“Everything.’ They both smiled.

Dessert arrived in an elegant glass cup topped with edible gold.

“Try this,” he said. “Their chocolate pudding is unmatched.”

She scooped a small taste, eyes closing involuntarily. “Jesus. Okay, rich people do one thing right.”

“I’ll take the compliment,” he said.

When she opened her eyes, he was watching her. And for the first time, she saw something softer beneath the arrogance. Something almost weary.

His expression grew serious. “I have a job for you.”

She blinked.

“A job? I mean, yes, I’d love that.”

“Not a pastry job.”

She frowned.

“Okay… then what kind of job?”

He took a breath, straightening slightly.

“I’m traveling home for Christmas next week,” he said. “My parents… they’ve been pressuring me to bring someone home. More specifically, my father. He’s retiring next year. And he’s planning to hand over his company if I meet one condition.”

“What condition?”

“That I prove I can build a stable family.”

She blinked again.

“So… he won’t leave you the company unless you’re… settled?”

Logan nodded. “It’s ridiculous. Outdated. But he’s stubborn. He wants to see me with someone. A woman he believes could be a permanent part of my life.”

Melody nodded slowly.

“Okay, I understand. So… what does this have to do with me? Do you want me to… convince him you’re responsible? I could do that, you know. I can be very persuasive. I’ll tell him you floss twice a day and use coasters…”

“Melody.”

He leaned forward.

“I want you to play the role of my girlfriend.”

She felt the breath leave her body. “What?”

“I’m going to propose during dinner with my parents.”

“No,” she whispered. “No, I'm not doing that. I just got out of a horrible breakup. My life is a mess. I can’t…”

“I’m not asking you to actually date me,” he said calmly. “I’m hiring you. I will pay you. Two hundred thousand dollars.”

The restaurant around her faded. The music, the candles, the murmurs all gone. All she heard was the number.

“Two… hundred… what?”

“Thousand,” he said. “To act as my fiancée for the Christmas holiday.”

She didn’t breathe.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he said simply. “And I don’t make offers I don’t intend to keep.”

She stared at him, searching his face for any sign of a joke. Nothing. He was dead serious.

“Why me?” she asked quietly.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“Because you’re the first woman I’ve met in years who talks to me like I’m human. Not a billionaire. Not a headline. Just… me.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

“A contract will be sent to you in the morning,” he said. “After you sign it, a transfer will be made to your account. Can you do that?”

She taught about how flat broke she was, at least with this money she'll get herself an apartment, and maybe start something here. How did her life go from zero to hundred in just two weeks?

Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of her Christmas miracle.

“It's a deal.” She looked up at him.