Thanks so much for reading the beginning of Josh’s and Neisha’s love story. Who’s her father, though? And why is Shelby out to get her? Pre-order their book here. Meanwhile check out Sawyer’s wondrous story, His Everlasting Love, and Thel’s beastly one, Her Russian Beast.

Wrapped in Red

Sam Mariano

Chapter One

Georgia

Humming a favorite Christmas tune from childhood and ripping a piece of tape off my desk dispenser, I am fully immersed in my own festive little world when my boss strides into my office.

In my mind, a chubby caveman is dressed as Santa Claus, clutching his jolly belly and singing about how Christmas is his favorite time of year. In actuality, a tall, gorgeous man is preparing to startle the hell out of me.

Ordinarily, my boss would never be able to sneak up on me when my back is facing a wall; I’m too aware of him. But tonight I am so wrapped up in wrapping presents, I don’t notice he has entered my office until his shiny black loafer crushes the piece of wrapping paper I was about to grab and fold over.

Growing up, my mom used to shop the after-Christmas clearances to buy next year’s paper. When she cut a piece and didn’t use all of it, she rolled it up and saved it for a smaller gift.

I do not abide ruining wrapping paper just for the hell of it.

Horrified, I push at his expensive shoe, but he doesn’t budge. “Have you lost your mind?” I ask him. “What kind of person deliberately steps on wrapping paper? Move your foot, please.”

He doesn’t.

I’m sitting on the floor by my desk to wrap, so I have to look up to glare at him.

He’s looming over me in his coal-black Tom Ford suit, one dark eyebrow cocked as if unimpressed—a sight anyone else under his employ would find intimidating. I’m not intimidated, but I do hate to feel his displeasure. Even the threat of it causes my stomach to sink for a split second before he speaks.

Because I’m not terribly good at hiding my emotions, he can see that fleeting feeling written all across my face. He doesn’t know the threat of his displeasure is what put it there, though. He must believe the reason for my distress is him stepping on my wrapping paper, because he finally moves his foot.

“Is this what I pay you for?”

He sounds serious, but I know he’s not.

First of all, I could have left hours ago when I finished my work. Instead, I hung around and did my Christmas preparations at the office just in case he needed anything.