Chapter 2

Chapter Two

ALVA

T he clock chimed ten, and with it came a fresh wave of irritation. For the tenth time that morning, I reread the official decree from Santa Claus himself: Prince Nicholas is to select his future bride through a courtship competition, and you, Alva Brightwinter, are tasked with overseeing the Crystal Snowball and the courting process.

It was a glorified babysitting job, and I hated every frosted detail of it. I threw the parchment onto my desk, rubbing my temples. Becoming the head elf had been my dream since I was a youngling. It had taken years of grueling work, endless nights ensuring the toy factories operated smoothly, and meticulously organizing Santa’s annual route. I’d earned this position, and now I was being reduced to managing his odious son.

Nicholas Claus Jr. was everything I despised: irresponsible, self-centered, and utterly incapable of appreciating the legacy that was about to be handed to him. The heir to the Claus empire spent more time in bed with females than he ever did in the workshop. If he weren’t Santa’s son, he’d be lucky to hold a job packaging candy canes.

And now, I had to ensure this debauched prince found a wife? It was enough to make my pointed ears twitch in frustration. A knock interrupted my brooding. “Come in,” I called, already bracing myself.

“Miss Brightwinter.” Nicholas’s smooth, smug voice slid into the room before he did, like icy fog creeping under a door.

I didn’t bother looking up. “You’re late, Your Highness.”

“For what, exactly? According to my father, all that’s required of me is my presence at your little soiree. My input in this quest to find a wife is apparently not needed.” His tone was light and mocking as he slouched into the chair across from my desk, though I sensed an undercurrent of displeasure.

I slowly blinked up to meet his gaze. “You should still know the details of what’s actually expected of you at the Crystal Snowball, aside from looking dashing as ever…” A breath of exasperation slipped from my lips. I was terrible at hiding my feelings, and right now I was finding it impossible to pretend this task was anything other than an utter sham. “I sent the summons for you an hour ago. You’re not exactly off to a great start.”

He smirked. I shouldn’t have been surprised that this prince would find wasting my time amusing. His grin spread wider, perfect full lips stretching across his dumb, chiseled face. As much as it stabbed at my gut to admit it, what the prince lacked in decency, he made up in good looks. It was no wonder he had every female in the realm pining for his attention—not to mention that his rakish reputation was the talk of every tavern.

I fought from rolling my eyes. His charm and dimpled cheeks could have the undergarments melting off every female in the realm, but to me, his roughish smile couldn’t even melt the frost off my boots.

Leaning back as if the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on his shoulders, he said, “My sincere apologies, Miss Brightwinter. It seems I failed to realize my princely duties included being at your beck and call.”

“Your princely duties include acting like a prince about to inherit Santa’s throne.”

His grin faded slightly, but his golden-brown eyes glittered with mischief as if I hadn’t just chastised him. “To that effect, let us cut to the chase. Unless I find a wife, my father will exile me from the kingdom. And that’s your job, isn’t it, Miss Brightwinter? To make sure I fall in love and live happily ever after? So how about you stick to doing what you do best and fuss about the details of tomorrow, and I’ll worry about my princely duties.”

I forced a frigid smile, my gaze sharp enough to cut ice. “If you’re expecting me to humor your antics, you’ll be disappointed.”

He chuckled, running a hand through chestnut-colored hair. The prince seldom combed it back, always leaving it slightly disheveled, purposely it seemed, giving him that perpetual I just had a sexual tryst look. “I’d never expect that from you, Miss Brightwinter. You’re far too… disciplined for that.”

Heat flushed my cheeks, but I ignored it, focusing instead on the to-do list on my desk. “As your father has already informed you, the ball is tomorrow evening. Ten noble females will be attending. You’ll select your five contestants during the gala.”

“Contestants,” he mused, rolling the word around in his mouth like a piece of peppermint candy, his voice rich as chocolate. “Interesting way to put it, though, I quite fancy it.”

I resisted the urge to sigh. “You don’t have to fancy anything, Your Highness; you just need to play your role. Once you select the five lucky females, you will share a dance with each one, get to know them a little. I will then plan out your five dates. At the end of the first week, you will narrow your prospects down to two females. Again, I will plan the rest of the courtship. Two dates each. By the Winter Solstice, you will be ready to select the winner, which you will announce at your father’s annual Christmas Eve dinner.”

The prince let out a long and tired breath, as if he’d not even paid any attention to anything I’d just said. “Tell me something, Miss Brightwinter.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze sinking into what I imagined was a practiced smolder. “What’s in this for you?”

The question caught me off guard, but I masked it with my usual professional tone. “Ensuring the future of the Claus legacy is part of my job.”

“Come on.” His grin turned sharper, more predatory. “What’s the real reason? You’ve hated me since the day we met. Are you hoping to see me fail?”

My jaw clenched, but I didn’t rise to the bait. “What I hate is wasted potential,” I said evenly.

He let out a low, mirthless chuckle—seemingly not appreciating that I had called him wasted potential. His eyes scanned me like he was trying to crack a code, but I felt the frostiness of his gaze. I’d clearly hit a nerve. “You’re fascinating, Miss Brightwinter.”

“I’m efficient. There’s a difference.” The room fell silent, the tension crackling like the firewood in the hearth. For a moment, I thought he might actually take this seriously. Then he stood, smoothing out his crimson jacket, the slabs of refined muscle unable to stay hidden under the velvety fabric. I hated that I noticed the infuriating perfection of his sculpted body.

His gaze softened into something that simmered with intrigue. We stared at each other for a few more extended moments that deepened the awkward silence. I couldn’t take the way his eyes examined me, their weight making my skin tingle with an awareness I wasn’t accustomed to.

I parted my lips to break the stale mate, but he stole the opportunity from me. “Very well, if that is all, I’ll take my leave, Miss Brightwinter. I wouldn’t want to impose on your extremely busy schedule—you know, with all the courtship party planning on your plate. If you’ll excuse me, my princely duties await.”

He offered me a curt nod, then exited. As he strolled out, I exhaled the longest breath of my entire life, but it did little to unravel the tension coiled tight in my chest. We weren’t only two weeks away from the prince needing to find a wife; we were two weeks away from Christmas. These were the two busiest weeks of the year, when I needed to be my most focused, when we needed to make sure everything was perfect for dispatch. The tiniest mistake could ruin Christmas, and now Santa wanted me to play matchmaker for his scoundrel of a son.

I grumbled. Nicholas Claus Jr. wasn’t just my problem, he was a disaster waiting to happen. And I had a front-row seat to the snowstorm creeping in.