Chapter Three

December

"Um, hi, Ms. Goines," I say to Ruby Goines, stumbling off the elevator into Alaric Parrish's posh outer office. Like the rest of the building, elegant red and black Christmas decorations adorn the space, with a gorgeous, matching tree set up near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Los Angeles. "I got a message that Mr. Parrish wanted to see me."

"Call me Ruby, dear," Ms. Goines— I mean, Ruby—says with a kind smile that crinkles her eyes at the corners. "He's waiting for you in his office. And don't mind him if he's crabby. He's harmless. He's just been out of sorts all morning."

"Oh." I glance at the heavy oak door she points at and then hesitate. "Um, why?"

"Who knows with him? The man is a menace."

"Oh."

She must see something on my face because she laughs quietly. "He's harmless, dear. He's just a pain in my behind. He's always up to something, and I never know what until Blaze is in a tizzy because Alaric is driving him crazy. Honestly, the man spends more time finding ways to annoy his brother than he does working."

I bring my fingers to my lips to hide a smile. She talks about them like they're little boys instead of grown men in charge of a multi-billion-dollar company. It's cute.

"Go on in. He's waiting for you."

Crap.

My smile fades as another wave of anxiety races through me. I've thought about nothing but this moment since yesterday, and I still have no idea how to handle it. Honestly, I expected to be found out before I ever made it through the doors this morning. But no one sounded the alarm. So far, they all believe I'm my sister.

Will Alaric? If he already suspects me, I'm screwed.

"Thank you." I give Ruby a tight smile and scurry toward Alaric's door, my kitten heels tapping against the porcelain tile.

"Enter," he growls, his deep voice muffled.

I inhale a breath and push open the door. Like the anterior office, his inner sanctum is lavishly appointed, with a wall of windows overlooking the city below. He's standing beside his desk, six foot four in a thousand-dollar suit. Every inch of him is dark, from his hair to his eyes to the black fabric encasing his brawny body.

My gaze tangles with his, and every ounce of breath in my lungs rushes out in a strangled exhale. He's angry. Furious even. It roils in his onyx eyes like storm clouds.

"Come in and close the door." His familiar voice rolls over me in a tidal wave, puckering my nipples. It's so deep. So decadent. Like smooth caramel. Only there's a bite to it that wasn't there six years ago. Anger.

I stumble over my own feet in my haste to obey and quickly shut the door. And then I stand there, my hands at my sides, desperately trying not to fidget or blurt any of the thoughts running through my mind in a dizzying parade.

He's changed. And yet he's exactly the same beautiful man I've been dreaming about for far longer than I should have been.

"You're the new intern."

"Y-yes," I whisper.

"What's your name?"

I don't want to lie to him…but I do it anyway. "Jillian."

Something flares in his eyes. "Have we met before?"

"Maybe." I lick my lips, skirting the razor's edge between the truth and an outright lie. "I meet a lot of people through my father."

"Ah, yes. The mayor." A flash of scorn dances through his expression before he schools it. "If you're here to try to convince us to endorse his bid for governor, the answer is no."

"I'm not."

He cocks his head to the side, waiting to hear me out.

"I'm sure that's what he wants, but I'm here for me."

"Why?"

"Why?" I repeat.

"Why are you here?"

"I..." I hesitate, which seems to annoy him. "I've dreamed about working here for years." I've dreamed about you since I met you. "I just want one chance to show you what I'm made of."

"Mmm." He leans against the edge of his desk, studying me intently. "Are you certain we haven't met before?"

"I…I don't think so?"

"Perhaps at a party?"

"I don't go to many parties," I mumble, glancing at my feet.

"Really?" A triumphant smile curves his lips as if I've slipped up and said something wrong. "I'd think the mayor would have you out being seen all over town."

My stomach sinks into my shoes.

Crap. He knows. He's toying with me, trying to get me to confess that I'm not Jillian. Is that why he's angry? Because he knows I'm lying?

"I'm in school," I say, doggedly sticking to my cover.

He pushes away from the desk, striding toward me. Every step he takes sends my heart rate ratcheting up a notch. It thumps against my ribcage like a battering ram.

"You're a terrible liar, Ms. Rhett," he murmurs, stopping so close I smell his cologne swirling around me. I feel the heat coming off him. His eyes aren't completely black. Tiny flecks of gold dot the irises like little veins in solid rock.

"I'm not l-lying." I'm not even convincing to myself, certainly not to this man.

"Not about everything," he agrees. "You are in school. I think you have dreamed about working here. You don't want me to endorse your father. But you do remember me." He places one finger beneath my chin, tipping my head back. "Isn't that right, December?"

Oh, no. This is worse than bad. It's a freaking Christmas disaster. I haven't even been here three full hours, and I'm already busted.

Note to self: Never listen to Jillian's idiotic ideas ever again.

"I'm not...."

"Lie to me again, and you'll pay for it bent over my knee with your perfect ass in the air," he growls.

"I…"

One dark brow shoots upward. He means it. And God help me, the thought of his rough palm against my ass is intriguing in ways I never considered before right this moment. But I think I want this man to spank me. I want him to punish me.

"Tell me the truth, sweet angel."

"Please," I whimper, not sure if I'm pleading with him to spank me or if I'm pleading for him to release me from his spell. I can't think, and I desperately need to think. There's too much at stake here, like my entire freaking future.

"Tell me," he croons the command, pulling me deeper under his spell. "What's your name?"

"J-Jillian."

Darkness flares in his eyes. His hand slips down, encircling my throat. He pulls me closer to him, dragging me right up against his body.

"Little liar," he whispers then, brushing his lips across mine in a featherlight kiss I feel reverberating in my soul like the strike of a gong. I think he feels it too. He groans like a man pushed to the edge, his chest shuddering against mine. "When I figure out why you're lying, you won't be able to sit down for a week, December."

He releases me, taking a step back.

I stare at him in wide-eyed shock for a long, silent moment, and then I do the only thing I know to do. I flee.