“Christmas morning came early,” he says as he steps out of the elevator with River and Alexander, Asher’s brother, following closely behind. “Though I did imagine you’d be wrapped up in pretty red ribbon underneath my tree.”

I blush.

“I suppose there’s still a chance,” he says. “I’ve been a very good boy this year.”

Joey scoffs.

“Josephine,” he drawls. “It’s been a while.”

“Not long enough,” she says and steps into the elevator.

“So I shouldn’t expect a Christmas card from you?”

“I’d much sooner mail you a dead rat,” she says. “Olivia, let’s go.”

I force a smile at Levi. “It was nice seeing you.”

“Always a pleasure, Livi.”

Livi.

Livi.

Livi.

Levi and Livi.

My knees go weak.

I’m designing our wedding invitations as the elevator zips up to the fourth floor. I’m so distracted I don’t hear it ding.

“Isn’t this you?” Joey asks.

“Right,” I say and I’m in a Levi induced daze. I practically fall into the hallway, but catch myself before I lose any donuts.

“Olivia?”

I turn around when I hear Joey’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be charmed by him.”

How can I not be? He calls me Livi and makes me want to rip my clothes off. Charmed is an understatement.

I’m floating through the office. I hum along to the Christmas song on the radio and I hand out donuts and I don’t even get mad when I see the tinsel I hung around Asher’s door has been torn down. I’m blissed out on Levi. I can’t wait to tell our two daughters and son about this moment.

“Liv!” Bree shoves her hand into my box of donuts before saying anything else. She takes the last chocolate glazed, smells it, and then puts it back. “You… you’ve got that glow.”

“The I-forgot-to-use-powder-on-my-forehead glow?”

“No, the I-just-had-an-earth-shattering-orgasm glow.”

“I mean, I did run into Levi Booker and his face is sort of like an orgasm.”

“I heard he’s pretty one-and-done.”

“I doubt he’s that selfish, Bree.”

She shrugs. “Anyway, Satan has summoned you to his lair.”

“What?”

“Asher.”

“He’s not in until this afternoon.”

“He has a car waiting for you.”

“Seriously?” Asher doesn’t send cars. He just tells me to be somewhere and I find my own mode of transportation. This must be serious. It’s probably about Francesca.

“Are you sleeping with him?” Bree opens the box to smell the donuts again.

“What? He doesn’t even like me.”

She shrugs. “You don’t have to like someone to have sex with them. You just have to want to get laid.”

“I’m not sleeping with him. He’s my boss.”

That I’ve kissed.

“Is he really a boss, though?”

“I report to him, so he’s my supervisor at the very least,” I tell her. “And we are not sleeping together.”