Chapter One

I’m a ho, ho, ho.

Samantha

I take a step back and lift my chin as I take in all my décor work. The fir tree in my office looks festive, strung with silver beads and twinkly lights. I tied big iridescent periwinkle ribbon into perfect bows atop pink glass balls to accent the fake white snow on the ends of the branches, and it’s perfect.

It’s almost as stunning as the one in the cabin, I think to myself before I blink the memory away and turn from the splendor, frowning at the song playing on my phone.

“Last Christmas” by Wham drifts through the room, giving me another pungent dose of melancholy and making my chest tighter as I think about them.

After all, there can’t be a cabin without the four men who ruined my life.

I walk to my desk to turn off that damn song, glancing out the windows of my corner office at the setting sun. This used to be my most favorite time of year, when Christmas music set the tone throughout shopping centers and followed me from store to store. Where people rushed around happily,  spending too much money but joyously giving gifts to the people they love.

Christmas was the most wonderful time of the year…a reminder of when I fell in love and four names became my reason for my season: Alec, Jace, Reed, and Cole.

But now, all the warmth I loved about this season has been replaced by the cold—in my bed and in my heart.

I walk around my desk, reaching out to stop the song before I plop down in my chair, resting my head against the leather seat, and sigh as I look out my office window again.

How did we get here?

I’m staring at the orange and pink California-dusted skies, skirting around the memory that would answer my own question as my intercom buzzes and Lola, my assistant comes through.

“Ms. Thomas, your 6:00 p.m. called to cancel.”

I roll my eyes as she continues. “They didn’t want to be late getting to their family, you know…since it’s Christmas Eve.”

“Joke’s on them,” I snark. “The only thing in life that lasts is money and ambition. Everyone will disappoint you eventually.”

The silence on Lola’s end punctuates my cynicism, but I don’t care. Bah fucking humbug.

“Speaking of family…” Lola interjects uncomfortably. “Your sister left another message.”

“Thank you. I’ll take care of it.”

My eyes tick to my cell, seeing the message I ignored from my sister . It’s a photo of her sitting on her husband, Crew’s, lap with my mom and dad in the background. They’re all holding up champagne flutes.

Eleanor: Wish you were here! Merry Christmas.

Eleanor: Please come. Work can wait. Love you.

I push my phone away and grab a file, opening it to look over some renovation plans for a new hotel downtown.

Without my career, I never would’ve made it through the last couple of months. She doesn’t understand. How could she? Eleanor is spectacularly in love—fool. And my parents are a reminder of what I’ll never have.

So, no, I won’t be coming to eat, drink, and be very fucking unmerry while I relive how I went from being engaged in Hawaii the day after Christmas to misery a year later. 

Suddenly, an uninvited image of Reed pops into my mind. The sun, much like the one I was just watching, is behind him as he stares down at me while wading in the crystal-blue island waters. “Say yes, sunshine. Because we want forever.”

I groan and flop my forehead down on my arms atop my desk. “Forever, my ass.”

But in the midst of my talking to myself, the phone buzzes before my assistant comes over the speaker again.

“Ms. Thomas, Mr. Hudson is…”

“No,” I groan before sitting up again. I shake my head. “Tell him I’m busy and I’ll call him back.”

The intercom dies before she comes back on. “He says it’s urgent.”

My ass. The only thing urgent about this call is that Cole always gets what he wants. And currently, what he wants is me, back in our home with the rest of Santa’s dirty elves.

“Apologize,” I huff, feeling nervous. “And assure him I’ll call him back…even though I won’t. And Lola, I’m working late tonight, so hold all the rest of my calls.”

No sooner do I put my face in my hands than my office door swings open, and my eyes spring up to meet the all-too-familiar chocolate-brown ones I’ve known and loved.

Cole crosses his arms, staring directly into my eyes.

“Do I need to fire you again?”

My assistant is blubbering and apologizing to me as she tries to position herself between Cole and the door, but I hold up a hand as I stand and walk around my desk.

“It’s fine, Lola. I’ll handle him.”

“That’s cute.” Cole smirks before walking inside my office, seeming to take up all the space with his big dick energy alone. 

I open my mouth to yell, but I don’t get a single word out because he stalks toward me and takes my face in his hands, kissing the hell out of me.

I’d gasp, but all my oxygen is cut off, and I’m only breathing in Cole.

The sexy, perfectly tousled brown-haired, lusciously lipped, pigheaded bastard who never takes no for an answer and only speaks in demands that set my body on fire—Cole.

“Goddammit,” I groan and then get madder because it sounds like I’m enjoying myself before I push him away. “You don’t get to kiss me anymore.”

“The fuck I don’t,” he growls. “You’re going to be my wife.”

My heart should skip a beat, but this is exactly why it stopped beating a year ago because he wants me to be his wife…and Reed wants the same…so does Jace and not to mention Alec. They all want to be the one on that little legal piece of paper.

But I can’t do that. I can’t be four men’s wife, and I won’t choose between them either.

Our eyes stay locked as my tongue darts out over my bottom lip, swiping the last taste of him back inside my mouth before I swallow and cross my arms.

God, he tastes good…like peppermint. Like a dirty, depraved Santa. Oh god, what is wrong with me? I’m a ho, ho, ho. Who sexualizes Kris Kringle? I wonder if there is a syndrome for this.

I clear my throat, ignoring my stupid thoughts, and try to be resolute.

“No, I’m not, Cole. We broke up. We all broke up. It’s over.”

His jaw ticks, and his eyes narrow. I won’t ever admit what that does to me downstairs, but it’s the opposite of the frown on my actual lips.

He’s staring down at me, and it’s making it hard to breathe. Cole’s just soooo Cole. And the longer he stands here, the longer those two months away are starting to feel.

His eyes drop to my lips, and dammit all to hell, I lick them again. This is his fault. I’ve been trained too well, like Pavlov’s dog. He’s ringing the dinner bell, and I’m ready to be eaten.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I whisper.

“And how’s that? I want specificity, baby…I like it when you use your words.”

I say nothing, staring up at him, my chest rising and falling faster. I hate him. Except my body hasn’t gotten the memo because it’s looking at Cole the way Tom Hanks looked at Wilson the volleyball.

“You should go,” I try again.

Cole bends down closer to my face, making me press my ass to my desk as I grip the edge for dear life. “And if I don’t? What then, Samantha?”

I swallow, unable to speak, lost in the dirty promises behind his eyes.

He smirks. “I want to fuck you. On this desk. Until you’re coming down shaky thighs, screaming my name.”

Cole’s middle finger begins slowly drawing my pencil skirt up my leg, and he doesn’t take his eyes off mine.

“If you don’t want it, tell me to stop…but then again, you can handle me, right?”

Oh, he’s playing dirty. Say no…

Cole drags his bottom lip between his teeth.

Fuck. Sam…do not say yes. Don’t do it. You’re a strong, independent woman on Beyoncé’s internet. If you fuck him…

Cole’s whole hand palms my thigh, and all my thoughts hit the gutter.

You’ll come so hard you won’t remember your name.

“This changes nothing,” I blurt, pushing forward to kiss him again, but I’m caught by the throat, held in my place.

Cole’s deep, commanding voice ignites every nerve ending, causing goose bumps to explode over my skin.

“Then, baby, you won’t care if I test that theory.”

My thoughts are immediately silenced because, like a reward for my submission, I’m spun around to face my desk and bent over. Pencils and papers scatter, hitting the floor as my teeth dig into my bottom lip because my skirt’s ripped, instantly decimated, all the way from the slit in the back to the top of my ass.

“Cole,” I gasp, turning my head toward the door. “Someone could come in.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

My legs are kicked open before he greedily reaches between them and hooks his middle finger around my G-string, running his knuckle past my ass to my wet pussy, brushing back and forth. It’s rhythmic and accompanied by his appreciative groan.

My eyes close as a soft moan caves my chest, and my shoulders sag before Cole drags my panties over my hips, down my legs, and off my high heels.

His body covers mine, that deliciously deep voice in my ear.

“Open.”

My lips obediently part as my mouth is stuffed with silk fabric, and our eyes meet once last time before Cole stands and slaps my ass.

“That’s my good fucking girl.”