Chapter 1

Chloe

’Tis the Season to be Jolly

“Are you sure you really want to do this?” my best friend, Tiff, asks while I pull on my black pants.

“I have no choice,” I say as a black turtleneck joins the ensemble. “I have to get in there and get the letter back!”

She shakes her head. “Why did you think it was a good idea to declare your love for your boss in a flipping letter?”

I glare at her. “You know I didn’t want to give it to him.” I shove on a pair of black boots with a grunt. “It was all about this Christmas wish thing I read about online, and well …” She folds her arms over her chest. “I thought if I wrote down my feelings and put it out there in the universe, I would see how stupid it was and be over it.”

Standing, I tie my hair on top of my head. “Like how can I possibly be in love with my boss?” I look at her, waiting for her to say something.

“And how is that plan working out for you?” she asks me sarcastically.

“It was an accident!” I shriek, tossing my hands up in the air. “When I printed it out, I was about to unceremoniously shred it. But then he walked out of his office, and I got flustered, okay? I thought if I put it under the files, he wouldn’t notice it.”

“So now we are going to break into his office and steal it back,” she states, glaring back at me in her identical black outfit.

“Basically,” I tell her. “Now, let’s get this over with!”

We walk out of our apartment and make our way over to my office at dusk. Being able to walk to work is only one of the many reasons this is my dream job. As we get to the door, I have a thought. “Shoot. We have to get through security.”

“Play it cool and just tell them you forgot your house key in your desk.”

I flash my brightest smile at the security guard eyeing us. My heart starts to speed up, and my palms get sweaty. “My name is Chloe Ward,” I say, “and I work for Zachary Moore & Associates. I forgot my house key in my desk.”

The security guy types something on the computer and then points at the pad in front of him. “Sign in.”

On the way up to the forty-sixth floor, I moan. “I think I’m going to throw up.” I put my hand to my stomach.

“Makes sense.” Tiff smirks, not making me feel better at all.

It’s weird being in the office at night. Everything is so quiet. We walk out of the elevator and pass two Christmas trees. Going around the receptionist’s desk, we head into the ghost town of unoccupied desks. Each cubicle has some sort of Christmas decoration, and one cubicle even has Christmas music playing. “Jesus, it looks like Christmas threw up in this office.”

“I fucking hate it.” I look at her, walking by my desk that only has a cup with candy canes. “Hence the no decorations on my desk.” When we get to Zach’s door, I knock like always.

“Seriously?” she asks me, looking around at the empty office with her arms thrown out to her sides.

“It’s a habit. So shoot me.” I open the door, and moonlight pours in the window. The glow from the lights on the Christmas tree in the corner gives the office just a touch more light.

“Okay, go get it,” she orders. “I’ll be on the lookout.”

I walk over to Zach’s desk and examine the files. Files are stacked on each side. I start to panic, thinking he might have found the letter.

My hands shake as I flip through the files as fast as I can, and one heap slips to the floor. Loose papers fly everywhere, and I want to kick myself.

“Dammit,” I hiss. Dropping to my hands and knees, I methodically pick up the papers and make piles to organize them.

“What the heck are you doing?” Tiff hisses in a whisper when she sticks her head into the room and finds me on my hands and knees. “It was supposed to be an in and out job.”

I glare at her. “I dropped some papers, and now I have to make sure they are all in the right order so he doesn’t know I was here.” My teeth clench together.

“You are ridiculous, you know.” She laughs as she walks over and starts throwing things in different files. “And you worry way too much!”

Holding up a white paper in her hand, she crows triumphantly, “See! I think I found it!”

Just as relief courses through my body, the ping of the elevator shatters the silence. Our eyes widen as we leap up and look out the window in the door to the cubicle area, and I gasp. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” I chant

“Um, Chloe, is that who I think it is?” She looks over at me, and no words come out of my mouth. The fear has made my voice disappear.

I try to stay calm, but I’m surprised she can’t hear my heart beating in my chest. “Oh yeah, that’s my boss.”

My heart pounds even harder now. “We have to hide.”

I look around the office. “Quick, behind the couch.” I point at the couch right in front of the tree.

I get there first, and Tiff practically falls over my head as she trips in her rush to hide. “I told you this was a freaking bad idea.” She winces as we duck down, and the tree teeters back and forth. “A bad fucking idea,” she hisses again as we steady the tree.

Just then, the door opens, and he walks to his desk without bothering to turn on the lights. I have to wonder if it’s a Christmas fucking miracle that he doesn’t catch us. “Fuck,” Zach curses, “where the heck is it?” He sorts through the papers impatiently.

His phone rings. “What do you want?” he says, answering it. “Yeah, sorry, I am just looking for something I lost.” He pauses. “How the heck did you get your car keys stuck in your car?” Another pause. “Yeah, I know how stressed you are, dude. I’m coming.”

He ruffles through the papers a bit longer until finally he huffs and leaves the office, slamming the door behind him.

I lean my head down, letting all the stress leave my body. But then I look over at Tiff and feel like the biggest jerk. She has tears rolling down her face. “I think I broke my foot,” she whispers.

My eye heart sinks when I see that her foot’s turning purple. “Oh, my god! I told you to put on boots and not that ballerina shoe you said looked cute.”

She glares at me now, her teeth clenching. “Get me out of here,” she half begs, half snarls. I nod, wrapping my hand around her waist and pulling her up with me. “You owe me so much for this,” she says, and I swallow, knowing I’ll owe her for the rest of our lives. She hops on one foot as I hold her steady on the other side.

We are standing at the elevator with my arm around Tiff’s back to hold her up when I guiltily ask, “Can I have the letter?”

She hands it over, and I suddenly notice that yes, it is my letter, but there is handwriting on the back … Zach’s handwriting.

I only have a chance to read “Dear Chloe” when the elevator finally arrives. The doors open, and Zach is standing inside.