Chapter Two

Alaric

"What the fuck is this?" I growl, dropping an application on Ruby's desk.

She glances up from her computer screen, fixating her wizened eyes on me over the wire rims of her bifocals. "It's the application packet for our newest intern, Alaric," she says, speaking as if I'm slow. "You told me to hire someone to help out through the holiday season. I hired Jillian Rhett."

No, she didn't hire Jillian Rhett. Because the raven-haired beauty with the big, guileless blue eyes staring up from the photo is December Rhett. I know because I met December six years ago. It was the same week Ma was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer.

My world felt like it was crashing to the ground, and this little ball of light stepped out of the darkness to offer me hope. She made me laugh when nothing else did, and then she sent flowers when Ma died less than a year later. I haven't seen her since that night in the garden, but whenever I need a little light in my life, my mind inevitably drifts to her.

"When does she start?"

"She started this morning." Ruby purses her lips and shakes her poufy gray head. "Honestly, Alaric. I sent everything in an email, like you asked. If you'd clean out that nightmare of an inbox once in a while, you might be able to find things. I don't see how you accomplish anything."

Her diatribe makes me smile. Ruby went to work for Daphne Parrish & Co when my mom opened the doors two decades ago. She still forgets that I'm not the same impish little boy who used to run through the building raising hell. Forget reminding her that I own a fifty percent stake. She doesn't give a shit. As far as she's concerned, age trumps all that nonsense. She's as likely to tell me to do something myself as she is to do it for me.

But she'll always have a place here. She's family. My older brother Blaze and I treat everyone here the same way. We may run one of the most prestigious fashion lines in the world, but the people who come to work here are the most valuable assets we've got. They're what make this company what it is.

"And the girl in the photo is the one who started this morning? You're certain of that?"

"Yes. I met her in the lobby myself. Sweet girl." Ruby smiles, a grandmotherly, affectionate smile. She likes her. "She's very quiet."

"Can you send her to my office, please?"

"Why?" Ruby gives me the side-eye, suspicion glittering in the blue depths. "If this is because she's the mayor's daughter…."

"Fuck the mayor," I growl.

"Alaric James!" Ruby chides, though I don't miss the way her lips twitch. She doesn't like the pompous prick either. He's a career politician. Every move he makes is to protect his precious image and curry favor with his base. He has no opinions that aren't filtered through his party and what's likely to win him an election. I have no patience for men with no spine.

"I'll play nice," I grit out, snatching December's—or Jillian's—file from Ruby's desk. The designs inside are exceptional, whichever of the sisters created them. "Just send her to my office, Ruby."

"Fine, but I'm telling your brother that you're causing problems with the mayor again!"

"I haven't caused any!" I call over my shoulder, leaving the yet part of the statement unsaid. I may very well cause a few if he sent December in here posing as her sister to try to convince us to endorse his ridiculous bid for governor. Hell will freeze over before I throw my name behind him.

I stomp into my office, tossing the file down on my desk. Instead of sitting, I pace to the windows to stare out. Los Angeles looks like a kid's playset far below. People move like ants, bundled up as if it's below freezing even though winter in the city rarely dips below the 60s. Fluffy white clouds hang suspended overhead, blotting out the weak winter sun.

Christmas decorations line the street, hung from light posts to bring a little cheer to the city. It was always Ma's favorite time of year. She went all out for Christmas. Even when we could barely afford it, she never let us go without. Blaze and I do our best to keep that spirit alive, especially here in the offices. Every year, we throw a giant Christmas party for the staff and their families. Everyone gets bonuses and gifts. We donate millions to charities.

It never feels like quite enough to fill the void and capture the spirit. This time of year, I feel lonely in a way that's not as easy to ignore as it is every other day of the year. I ache for something I'm not sure how to define or explain. This year, that chasm feels bigger than ever. Quite simply, something is missing.

The moment I saw December Rhett staring up at me from that photo, I realized what's been missing. Or who. The raven-haired beauty who comforts me when I need it most.

I've never let myself think of her as anything more than a light in the dark before today. God, I'm not a complete fucking cretin. But she's always been with me in some way. Remembering her laughter soothes me. Remembering her smile eases the restlessness in my soul. I can't fucking explain it, so I never tried.

I never thought I'd see her again, either…not until I opened that folder and saw her photo staring up at me. She's grown up. Hell, she's grown into an absolute beauty. Her sky-blue eyes and porcelain skin make her seem angelic. But those curves were made for sin.

Why is she pretending to be her sister?

It's a mystery I'd very much like to solve.

I turn from the windows, striding back to my desk to thumb through her application again. None of the information inside matches anything I know about her. Her name, her birthday…it's all wrong. The only part of her that's real is the photo.

The intercom connecting me to Ruby's desk buzzes.

"Is she on the way?" I demand, stabbing the talkback button.

"No. She's busy with HR. It'll be at least an hour before she can get up here."

"Dammit."

"Don't you curse at me, Alaric James Parrish," Ruby says, outrage in her voice. "You'll be answering your own damn phones today."

"Shit. Sorry." I grimace, shoving a hand through my hair. I need to calm the fuck down before Ruby kicks my ass and then sends Blaze to do the same thing. "Just send her up when she's done." I pause. "And why don't you order lunch from that Thai place you like today? My treat."

"Well, now you're being reasonable," Ruby sniffs, making me smile. "Have a good morning, dear."

I release the intercom button, staring blankly at the wall. And then I mutter a curse and slip out of my office to go talk to Blaze. If December is pretending to be Jillian, I don't want him firing her before I have a chance to find out why.

"We have a fox in the henhouse," I announce, stomping into his office.

"Who the fuck is messing with our designers?" Blaze asks, his brows pulling down into a severe scowl as he lifts his dark head from his computer. With the bank of windows at his back, a wall of clouds frame him as if he's Zeus resting high up on Mt. Olympus. "If he's sexually harassing them, get his sorry ass out of here, Alaric."

"What? Who said anything about anyone being sexually harassed?" I throw myself into a chair across from his desk, convinced he's hearing shit.

"You did."

"I did not. I said we have a fox in the henhouse."

"Which means there's a predator on the loose amongst prey," Blaze says.

"Okay, so clearly that doesn't mean what I thought it meant," I mutter, scrubbing a hand across my chin. I just thought it meant there was something unusual going on, like the fox was in there making friends or some shit. Clearly I've never lived on a farm.

My older brother sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't even want to know what you thought it meant."

Well, damn. He's a grumpy bastard today. Not that I'm surprised. He has been ever since our new model, Georgia Dillard, came to work for us. He's in love with her, which would be funny to watch if he weren't so fucking irritable about it. He needs to handle his business and claim her already, but he's being stubborn about it. Sooner or later, he's going to snap.

I hope I'm around to see it when it happens. She's been doing everything in her power to get him there. It's obvious she's in love with him too. They dance around each other like they're doing the fucking Nutcracker.

"We have a stage player in our midst."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Blaze asks. "And stop speaking in riddles."

"I was speaking in idioms."

"Don't do that either," he mutters, leaning back in his executive chair with his arms crossed. He pins me with a hard stare. "Some of us actually have work to do."

"I work," I protest, smirking at him from the opposite side of his desk. He loves to give me shit about not doing anything around here, and I love to pretend I don't do shit around here, but we both know this place would fall the fuck apart without me.

Blaze isn't good with people. He handles the business shit. I keep our people happy and schmooze with the best of them. I know every employee by name. I know who is in the building and who is taking time off. I know who works better under pressure and who needs stress kept to a minimum. Every deal we've signed, I've helped cultivate.

"Work more, annoy me less," he grumbles.

"Uh, fuck no. It's the holiday season." I plant my foot on the edge of his desk, earning a dirty glare from him. "The only hard work I'm doing is making sure the Christmas party is handled, and you aren't working everyone to death on this fucking campaign."

"I'm not working them to death."

He's not. Blaze may not be good with people, but he's a hell of a boss. Everyone is happy here. Everyone loves him. Designers and hopefuls flock to fill open positions on the rare occasion someone leaves. But it's my God-given right to keep him humble.

"Why are you even in my office?" he asks, going right back to the original subject.

"I told you that we have a problem."

"Absolutely none of the shit you said had the words 'we have a problem' in it," he says.

"Actually, I don't think it is a problem. It's more of a mystery."

"Is your mystery going to cause me problems?" Blaze asks, his dark eyes narrowed.

"Doubtful." Possibly. But what Blaze doesn't know won't hurt him. I'll fill him in on the important shit later. Preferably after he's happily coupled up with Georgia Dillard and in a better mood.

"Is anyone fucking with any of our designers?"

"No."

"Then it sounds like a you problem, Alaric. I've got enough shit to deal with right now."

"Fine," I say, trying not to give away the fact that he just gave me exactly what I came here wanting. "But the new intern, Jillian, is the mayor's daughter. You have to play nice."

"Shit," he mutters, his face falling. He doesn't like the mayor either. "When does she start?"

"She started this morning."

"Does she have any experience?"

"Nope." I climb to my feet. "So no scaring her off."

"What does she have to do with your mystery?"

"Don't know yet."

Blaze sighs and then shakes his head. "You know what? If it keeps you out of my office, I don't even care. Go Scooby Doo the shit out of it."