CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

MAE POV

“What is it?” he asked, and I found myself swallowing down a crazy bubble of emotion.

      “Just this,” I admitted. “You. Your words are so kind.”

      “So true,” he said.

      And I knew it then, sitting right there at his dining table. I knew that Santa Claus really had been listening all those years I wrote him a note without my mum knowing. All those years I asked him for a daddy. A real man I could look up to, respect and love. Who’d be there to encourage my best and guide me through my worst. Who’d stand strong through it all and look at me with both pride and love in his eyes.

      I may not have got what I was asking for all those years, but maybe it wasn’t because I was too bad to be deserving. Maybe it was just a long time coming.

      The best presents are always the ones worth waiting for.

      And here he was.

      The greatest Christmas gift of all.

      “You seem far away,” he commented. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

      I laughed. “You really want to know?”

      “Of course. Always.”

I wasn’t entirely sure he’d welcome my train of thought in the spirit it was intended, but I’d never really been one to hold back.

      “It’s stupid really,” I began. “It’s just this Christmas thing. When I was a kid I used to write these notes my mum didn’t know about. To Santa.”

      “Go on,” he encouraged. “What did you ask Santa for?”

      My wine was going down pretty quickly, but I took another swig and met his eyes. “A daddy,” I told him, and his eyebrow quivered.

      “A daddy?” He grinned. “Are you suggesting I put you in pigtails and spank your ass, little girl? Pigtails and daddy games aren’t generally my kink, but I’m always open to new experiences.”

      Oh, how I laughed. I laughed because his words flipped my belly over and over. Because I was giddy and high with all this Christmas brilliance. Because I wanted him. So bad.

      “That’s not quite it,” I said, and he laughed along with me.

      “Enlighten me.”

      I blew stray hair from my eyes and chomped down on a bit of turkey. His gaze didn’t stray from mine, not even for a heartbeat. Icy blue eyes dug in deep, his easy smile at odds with the chiselled hardness of his jaw.

      I forced myself to get my thoughts in order.

      “I never wanted a boyfriend like the other girls had. Not at school, and not at university either. I met so many guys. So many boys. And every year I’d think maybe it would be the one where I’d finally meet someone. Someone I wanted. Someone who’d make me feel all the butterflies. But I never did.” I took a breath. “They were all always just boys.”

      “And you didn’t want a boy. You wanted a man.” His words were a statement, not a question.

      “I guess maybe some would say I have daddy issues.” I rolled my eyes to illustrate what I thought of all that self-help mumbo jumbo. “But I always thought it was about appreciating maturity. Strength. Experience. Stability.”

      He took a sip of wine himself. “Hence you’re fresh from losing your virginity to a man twice your age who also happens to be your boss. Yes, Mae, I’d say some may well claim you have daddy issues.”

      “Would you? Say I have issues?” I could hardly bring myself to look at him. “I mean, does it bother you? The age gap thing. The employee thing. The runaway imagination thing.”

“That’s three things,” he replied, and I held my breath while he paused. “Three separate things, none of which bother me. Just so long as they don’t bother you.”

      I stopped dead with a forkful of dinner halfway to my mouth. “None of them bother you? Not even the suburban fantasy thing?”

      He shook his head. “No, Mae. None of them bother me. Especially not the suburban fantasy thing. I think I’m long overdue the convention of settling down.”

      I felt tingles. So many tingles. “And you think… that could be us?”

      He cleared his throat. “I’m a rationalist, not blessed with quite the same runaway imagination you seem to believe is a curse, Miss Chase. But yes, based on my observations of you these past few months, and some private observations I’ve read of yours these past few days, I very much think that could be us.”

      I’m sure my jaw dropped open.

      He kept on talking. “Since you’ve been so kind to indulge me with your childhood wish list confession, I’ve got a confession of my own.” He put down his knife and fork and rested his elbows on the table, fingers linked. “It was no accident that your application landed in my inbox, sweetheart. I saw you on your mother’s social media timeline over twelve months ago. I followed her updates,

basked in her pride as you graduated, checked in regularly for insight as to how you were doing — this beautiful, sparkling, divine little creature I’d stumbled upon quite by accident. When the position became vacant in my organisation and I figured you’d be looking for an opportunity, I made sure to advertise it in such a way your mother was certain to see it.” He paused for just a beat. “I was optimistic your application would be forthcoming. I was pleased when it was.”

      I could hardly believe it.

      The man I’d been gazing at for months had been the one gazing at me, before I even knew his name.

      “You mean…” I began, but he waved his hand.

      “If you think I gave you the job because I wanted to get in your knickers, that’s absolutely not the case. I mean purely that I saw something special on that screen in front of me. The job was yours on your own merit. It’s still yours on your own merit, and will continue to be regardless of what develops, or doesn’t, between us.”

      “I hope it develops,” I whispered. “I hope it goes all the way.”

      This time he took both of my hands in his. My fingers looked so small in his grip. “And I hope I can be that man you wished for. Asked Santa for. I hope I can be exactly the man you need. Deserve.”

      “You can be,” I told him. “I know you can. You are. You’ve been watching me, but I’ve been watching you. You can’t even imagine how hard I’ve been watching you.”

      “Done,” he said, then let my fingers go. “And your dinner is getting cold.” He smirked the smirk I loved so much. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling about ready for dessert.”

      I tingled through every last bite of turkey.