Page 114 of Elf-ish

The vision was enough to beg for another night, and tonight’s plan evolved last minute.

Close to midnight, I head to the first-floor entrance and wait. Security is present in the building but has confirmed that Ashford’s is empty, minus our overnight cleaning crew.

I’ve requested that no one enter the seventh floor. The Oak Room specifically.

When Angelica finally arrives, she looks skeptical and exhausted, as she only got off shift about a half-hour ago. For a second, I reconsider. Between the hectic holiday, Beau’s wedding, and her job, plus a late night of incredible sex, she looks like she’s been run ragged.

She also looks beautiful with her hair in a wide braid and her uniform still on.

I open the front door and invite Angelica in, leaving the security guard to secure the entrance.

“Jude, are you sure you are okay?” She scans me from top to toe.

Admittedly, I like her concern.

“No chest aches? No heart palpitations? What about fluttering?” She reaches for my wrist like she’s about to check my pulse.

I chuckle and catch her hand with mine, lifting it to kiss her palm. “I’m hoping for all of the above.”

First, I have something to show her. Keeping her hand in mine, I lead her toward the escalators. I asked maintenance to leave them running a few minutes longer.

“What is this all about?” she questions, taking in the dim lights and noticing the emptiness within the department store.

“Special VIP tour.” I nod like I didn’t just make that up.

Angelica only stares back at me. Those soft blue eyes are wide and suspicious as we take the first escalator upward. Then the next. Eventually, she relaxes into the ride up six stories up to the seventh floor.

Once there, I place my hand on her back and lead her toward The Oak Room.

The lights are off in the entryway except for the exit signs. The dining room is dark as well, except for the giant two-story Christmas tree lit in the center.

“Wow,” Angelica whispers, staring up at the tree decorated in white lights and countless ornaments that glitter and glow from the silver and gold sprinkled on each of them.

Slowly, she lowers her head and looks at me like she did that day when I caught her staring at the glass dome in the center of the building. A second dome is in this room, but unable to be easily seen because of the towering tree.

“It’s so beautiful,” she continues to whisper, as if in awe.

“I knew you’d like it.” Angelica loves Christmas despite the rat-race of it, and I wanted to give her this one peaceful moment before tomorrow morning, which I’m certain will be filled with squealing children in her gran’s cozy home.

I almost wish I could be there.

With her head lowered, she glances back toward the room, noticing the pile of pillows and blankets spread beneath the tree.

“What’s that?” Her voice catches as if she knows what it is but still asks.

“A midnight picnic.”

Her hands clasp in front of her chest, and she dips her head. “Did you do all this for me?”

“I thought you could use a silent night before all the noise, noise, noise tomorrow,” I tease, and wave in the direction of the chilled champagne bucket and a three-tiered tray with chocolates and strawberries, plus whipped cream.

Angelica slowly walks toward the nest I’ve made, and I follow, watching the sway of her hips and how the light of the tree reflects off her hair, highlighting the multiple colors within the red braid.

My chest does ache. She’s so beautiful, and I imagine her freckle, sight unseen.

My freckle.

When she stands beside the spread duvet, her brows pinch. “Did you open these fresh from the store?”