Elliot

When she notices me devouring her with my eyes, her cheeks turn pink.

"My ex used to tell me I was fat."

The thought enrages me, and I clench my jaw hard enough to hurt. This is the first time Mira has mentioned the guy. I would have preferred never to learn anything about him.

"I assume that's why you're no longer with him."

"No, unfortunately. Though I should have taken it as a sign."

"A sign he was going blind?"

Mira gives a small laugh with no happiness in it. I never want to hear that version of her laugh again. An unpleasant sensation grips my chest. I have to cheer her up.

"What kind of idiot complains about a woman having curves? To be honest, your body is incredibly sexy."

"Please pretend I never said anything," she says, red as a tomato.

"Why?"

"Because we shouldn't be having this conversation. You're my boss," she whispers, as though someone might overhear us.

"Technically, I'm not."

"My contract disagrees with you."

"You report to Tessa, who reports to me."

"Fine, you're my boss's boss, which means I should never mention my ex in a conversation with you. So be good and shut up. Okay? Thanks!"

I laugh under my breath and bend down to whisper in her ear.

"Good is the last thing I want to be with you."

Goose bumps rise over her skin.

"What are you doing?"

"Having fun."

"Did I miss the start of the apocalypse?"

I give her a small smile. Mira stares at me in astonishment.

After clearing her throat, she snatches my half-finished hot chocolate and goes to throw both cups in the trash. By the time she returns, the color has faded from her cheeks. I miss it. I like watching her blush.

"You're cute when you're all flustered. If it were,"

My answer is cut off when the crowd starts shouting a countdown from ten.

"Why are they counting?"

"You'll see!" she exclaims, beaming.

When the visitors shout, "One!" chaos erupts. Foam snowflakes suddenly rain down around us, and children shriek with excitement. Cannons hidden at the far end of the courtyard spray us until everyone's hair and clothes are covered in fake snow. Christmas music blasts from the speakers, filling the whole village with holiday cheer.

I brush at my shoulder and bring some of the foam up to my eyes to inspect it while Mira watches me, laughing.

"What is this? I don't remember this being here when I was a kid."

My parents brought us to this same Christmas village every year, but snow was never part of the program.

"They added it last year!"

"I hope it doesn't stain."

A poor imitation of a snowflake lands on my nose. Mira smiles and rises onto her toes to brush it away with the back of her hand.

"Don't be such a killjoy!"

Her dark curls are dusted with flakes. Kids run in every direction while others make foam angels on the grass.

"Have they never seen snow or something?"

"Some of us have never had the chance!" she says before tipping her head back and giggling.

"Really? You've never seen it?"

"No. Maybe someday…"

Mira reaches out to catch more foam. At that moment, a kid barrels into her and knocks her off balance. I catch her by the arms before she falls backward. Another little demon charges toward her, but I pull her against me before he can crash into her. Her palm lands on my chest, and her gaze holds mine hostage. I like having her in my arms. I'm tempted to keep her here, pressed against me, so I can protect her from the darkness in the world,including my own.

I don't understand what's happening to me. All I know is that Mira captivates me.

A strand of hair lifts in the wind and sweeps across her face. Without thinking, I catch it and tuck it behind her ear. A shiver runs through me when I touch her. I cup her cheek to prolong the moment. Her hazel eyes sparkle despite the approaching sunset.

As I tilt my head toward hers, it feels as though the world slows around us. She meets me halfway, and our lips touch. I've been dying for this since our first kiss. Our bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Energy crackles where our mouths meet, and I feed on it like a desperate addict. When Mira draws back slightly to catch her breath, I take the opportunity to stroke her lower lip with my tongue. Trembling against me, she grips the fabric of my suit.

My mind turns hazy and the noise gradually fades as Mira deepens our kiss. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she teases my tongue with hers. The taste of mint chocolate on her makes me crave so much more. All my senses seem to shift into overdrive. My back tingles and my lips tremble: I need more kisses, more of her, more of us.

Kissing Mira is like reaching heaven after an eternity in purgatory. As though I've wandered through despair my entire life until she showed me the way back to the light. She's divine, yet fiery enough to make a sinner like me want to pray with devotion.

When she presses herself against me, I groan. My pants can barely contain my growing erection. Mira gives a small gasp of surprise.

Another child comes hurtling toward us with a shriek and forces us apart. Mira stumbles, but manages to keep her balance without my help.

Mouth parted and lips swollen, she backs out of my reach.

"Um…"

"Have dinner with me," I say, taking a step toward her.

"What?"

Mira covers her mouth with one hand as though the gesture can stop me from kissing her again.

Am I the only one affected by whatever this is between us? No way.

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

"No! To both questions."

"Why?"

I move closer, breathing in a trace of her fresh citrus perfume mingled with the soapy scent of the foam snowflakes.

"You're my boss. Do you need a better reason?"

"That's never stopped you from doing what you wanted."

"It doesn't matter," she says, lowering her eyes. "You're the last man I should want."

Her words drag me into the past, back to the boy who was rejected until he learned to stop caring.

I feel the vein in my forehead throb.

"Yeah, well, I'm not supposed to be attracted to an insufferable woman who drives me half insane, and yet here we are!"

She winces.

"Is that really how you see me?"

Shit. That isn't what I meant… Apparently, despite watching Mr. Darcy screw this up seventeen times, I've still managed to fall into the exact same trap.

When I see tears shining in her eyes, I feel like the lowest piece of garbage alive.

"Shit. That isn't what I meant."

I take her by the elbow, but Mira pulls away.

"You know what?" she says, her voice unsteady. "Forget it. All I've done is make excuses for you because I hoped you were a decent guy underneath it all. But you're nothing more than a jerk who gets off on making everyone as miserable as he is."

No. That can't be true. My father acts like an asshole, not me. I'm pragmatic and blunt. There's a difference.

The look she gives me makes me reconsider that for a moment. My heart tightens.

"Mira, I'm sorry. Listen,"

"I don't want to hear your apology. It means nothing coming from someone who doesn't know what remorse feels like."

I feel as foolish as that damned Mr. Darcy.

You're comparing yourself to the fictional character she likes now?

You're screwed, man. Completely screwed.

My stomach knots. Though I'm tempted to fire back with something cutting, I stop myself. I don't want to be that man anymore. The one who loses the girl before he ever had a chance. The one who hides behind an alias and waits for her messages because he hates the crushing loneliness that hits him every time he walks into an empty house.

No. From now on, I choose to be better for her. Despite my mistake, I can still try.

"Forget that kiss. I know I will."

With that, Mira turns on her heel and walks away without looking back at me.

Suddenly, I can't breathe. I pull my container of Tums from the inside pocket of my jacket, but unfortunately the stupid thing is empty. It's a perfect representation of how I feel after Mira leaves: hollow.

Asking Mira to dinner was reckless. I got carried away by the moment we shared, and it was the first thing that came into my head. The invitation was stupid. Clearly, we're not on the same page.

I thought I could keep pretending to be Grant, but after kissing Mira, I realize I can't. Keeping up the act feels… wrong. As though I no longer fit the character now that my interest in Mira has changed. I don't want to pretend anymore. Period.

So I start a new text conversation with her from my real number. From now on, that's all she'll get from me.

Me: Meet me in my office tomorrow at eight p.m.

When she finally replies an hour later, I let out a long breath of relief.

Mira: Okay.

Her short answer makes me nervous for the rest of the evening. She isn't usually brief, and I don't like receiving this kind of text from her. She would never respond to Grant that way, but with me, she makes no effort.

Looks like you're jealous of yourself.

I consider canceling twice before finally shoving my phone into a drawer so I won't check the messages Grant has received from Mira. I don't see another option. She'll accept the reasons I had for hiding behind a false identity. It isn't as though I could simply admit who I was when I can't bring myself to trust anyone but my brothers.

What if she doesn't forgive you?

She'll forgive me. Of course she will. I haven't done anything that bad. If she'd had the same childhood I did, she would have done exactly the same thing without a second thought.

Sure…