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“Yeah. Sure thing. Have fun tonight, Frannie.”
“Thanks, Marco.”
“You deserve it.”
My eyes watered and I put down the bottle on the bathroom counter to hug him. “You deserve to be happy too,” I whispered.
“Of course I do,” he chuckled. “Now, get out of here. I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Ugh, gross.” I picked up my lipstick and went back to my room.
I grabbed the nude high heels Erika had lent me, the ones with the red soles, and rushed down the stairs. My parents were both at work and Nonna was kneading dough in the kitchen.
“Making cookies again?” I asked.
“Only a few dozen for Christmas. San Martini cookies are your father’s favorite.”
The sweet fig cookie was indeed my dad’s favorite. And despite my grandmother being my mom’s mother, she always remembered to make my dad’s favorite dessert around the holidays.
Turning toward me, my grandmother did a double-take. “Francesca! You look beautiful!”
“Thank you, Nonna,” I said and bussed a kiss on her cheek.
“You remind me of when I was your age,” she said. “All the boys in the village wanted to sit behind my family at church.”
I snatched my purse from the closet. “Well, I’m not looking for any attention tonight.”
“You could have fooled me,” she said with a chuckle.
Standing in the hallway, I watched my grandmother as she continued to punch flour into her mixture. Was she right? Was I trying to attract attention? Not really. I was trying to look like somebody other than Frances tonight. Maybe if a certain CEO noticed, what was the harm in that? It would all be over next week.
***
“Holy smokes, Frannie! Why have you been hiding underneath those baggy sweaters all these years?” Erika grabbed me as soon as I stepped off the elevator onto the twelfth floor. Garland framed all the doorways, trimmed with red holly. An eight-foot-tall Christmas tree stood where the couches in the reception area used to be and the smell of cinnamon and brown sugar permeated the air.
“Wow, the social committee outdid themselves this year,” I said, looking at a table with Santa hats and jingle bells. There was even a real-life Santa sitting in a red chair taking pictures with the staff.
“Who’s that?” I asked Erika.
“Clive! He finally got his butt up to the twelfth floor.”
We both started giggling, and Erika wrapped her arm over my shoulder to hold me up so we wouldn’t fall over. My gaze caught a pair of green eyes staring at me. He held a drink in his hand and was speaking to his brother Ryan, but his eyes followed my every move. I straightened my legs and pushed my hair off my shoulder.
“I see Colton is here already,” I whispered.
Erika rolled her eyes. “All he’s done is stare at those elevator doors.” Looking at him, she continued. “He also scowls at anyone that speaks to him. Ryan’s the only one wanting to get close to him so far. I can confidently say we’re all happy you’re here, Frannie.”
“Me? Why would I have anything to do with his mood?”
“Oh, please. Ever since you started working as his assistant, he hasn’t yelled or glared at anyone. If I wasn’t worried about you getting caught, I’d ask you to stay on forever.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” I had nothing to do with Colton’s mood swings. To think otherwise would be trouble. No, he was just a moody man. Noticing Erika’s ensemble, I smiled. “I like your dress and, wow, that headband is incredible.” It was green with a string of holly running through it. “Where did you get it?”
“I made it myself,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m thinking of starting a little side hustle. Maybe you can help me with the business plan.”
“Would love to. I want to repay you for everything you’ve done for me. I can’t thank you enough for the dress and shoes,” I said, pulling down on the hem of the tight dress.
“I knew it would look good on you. I didn’t know you’d walk in here looking like Helen of Troy.” She laughed.
