Page 13 of Forbidden Billionaires, Vol. 9

“I’m sorry, Ash,” I said. “I really thought a baker’s dozen was the right amount.” I pulled her into a hug.

“Why is your boob vibrating?” she asked.

“That must be Slavanka.” I pulled my phone out of my bikini top and looked down at the text.

Slavanka : Code9 again! Santa on ski lift.

Ash ran to the window and threw open the curtains.

“There!” she said, pointing at the ski lift halfway up the mountain. There was indeed a man on it dressed head to toe in red and white. He had one arm over what looked like a big bag of presents.

We took one look at each other, and that was all that was necessary to communicate the plan: Get to the ski lift immediately!

We sprinted out of the suite and to the elevators, not even bothering to put on any boots.

“Come on,” said Ash as she jammed the down button. “Come on! We’re gonna miss him!”

“I think we better take the stairs.”

Ash nodded and we both made a run for it. If there was a speed record for going down stairs, I feel like we may have broken it. Because we got to the ski lift in less than a minute. We piled onto a lift and Slavanka jumped on too just as it was leaving the building.

Automatic glass doors slid open as the ski lift took us out into the blizzard. The thought that we might actually catch Santa had so much adrenaline pumping through my body that I barely felt the chill of the wind whipping against my wet, dangling feet.

Ash craned her neck and looked up the mountain ahead of us. I had to grab her arm to make sure she didn’t fall off.

“I don’t see him,” she said. “Wait! No! There he is.”

I squinted to try to see him through the snow. At first I didn’t see anything either. But the glass atrium up the mountain had some lights out front that illuminated the white fur trim on Santa’s suit as his chairlift approached the top.

Then he disappeared inside. And a second later his empty chairlift came out the other side.

“Okay,” said Ash. “He’s somewhere in that building. And we’re gonna find him.” She turned to me. “Any ideas about where he might be?”

“Well…” I said, picturing the layout in my mind.

“The lift will drop us off in the main atrium near the front desk. Something tells me that he probably won’t just be standing there checking in for the evening. So we’ll need to go past that and down Wiener Boulevard.”

“Wiener Boulevard?” asked Ash.

“Yeah. They have like five different world class restaurants each with their own take on wiener schnitzel.”

“Oh wow, okay. That was not what I was picturing.”

“What were you picturing?”

“Um…uh…” She shifted in the ski lift and then pointed at the slopes below us. “Wow. I didn’t realize how high up this ski lift was.”

“Girl, don’t try to change the topic.”

“She picture glory hole street,” said Slavanka.

“Right?” I said. “She was definitely picturing tons of dicks.” I knew she’d be all horned up on Christmas!

“Can we just get back to the layout of the hotel?” asked Ash. “We’re almost there.”

If by almost there she meant three feet away, then she was correct.

Another pair of sliding doors opened and we were greeted by a refreshing blast of hot air as our ski lift slid into the dark atrium. We all jumped off.

“Should we split up?” asked Ash.

“Yeah,” I said. But then a thought hit me.

Or more of an image, really. It was Isabella in a Santa suit with a butcher knife in one hand and a bag full of body parts in the other.

That crazy bitch probably lured us up here so that she could chop us into tiny bits and serve us in the wiener schnitzel tomorrow.

“Actually, let’s stick together for now.

I don’t want you guys to get lost.” Or chopped up by Isabella.

I know, I sounded like Ash right now. But Crazy Isabella was called Crazy Isabella for a reason. That bitch gave me the creeps.

“So where do you think he is?” asked Ash as we walked into the dark atrium. The snow falling on the glass roof dampened the howling wind, bathing the atrium in an eerie silence broken only by the click of Slavanka’s heels on the marble floor.

“Well...he could be at the ski shop getting his sleigh repaired.” I walked over and tried to open the glass doors of the ski shop, but the handle wouldn’t budge.

Ash checked the snow-suit-clad mannequins by the door to make sure Santa wasn’t hiding in any of them, and then she tried to peer into the pitch-black shop. “I don’t think he’s in there. What about up there?” She pointed up at the three stories of balconies surrounding the atrium.

“Yeah, he could be delivering presents to the soldiers staying in those rooms. But legend has it that he has his sexy elves do that for him.” Although I started that legend, so it probably wasn’t an accurate portrayal of Santa’s actions on Christmas Eve.

“If I had to guess, I’d say he’s probably made a stop at his old toy factory. ”

“Uh, yes. That’s definitely where he is,” said Ash. “Why did we not run straight there?!” She started running in completely the wrong direction and then stopped. “I don’t know where I’m going. Please lead the way. Quickly!”

“This way,” I said and we all started running down Wiener Boulevard towards the giant glass doors on the far end of the atrium.

“This doesn’t look like a toy factory,” said Ash as she pushed through the glass doors. “It’s just a big empty room.”

“Look up,” I said.

“Ooooh,” her eyes got big as she looked up at the snow falling on the glass roof.

“Not at the roof,” I said. “Look a little lower.”

She squinted to see in the dark. “Is that a conveyor belt suspended from the ceiling? Why is it so high up? And why does it just end like that?”

“You’re starting at the wrong end,” I said.

“That’s where Santa used to park his sleigh.

The belt had to be raised like that because the stack of presents on his sleigh gets so tall.

” Or at least, that was what the tour guides here claimed.

I traced the path of the conveyor belt with my finger all the way back to where it disappeared into a brick wall with a big old-fashioned factory window.

The wall was painted with red and white stripes and SANTA’S WORKSHOP was scrawled over the window in big green bubble letters.

Ash ran over to the wall and stopped at another, shorter conveyor belt in front of it. “What is this for?” she asked.

“That’s where the elves would feed raw materials into the workshop to be made into toys. Once they were finished, the toys would pop out up there all wrapped and ready to deliver.” I pointed back to the raised conveyer belt.

“Wow,” she said. “I can’t believe I’m really at Santa’s workshop!” She ran her hand along the belt.

There was a loud bang like an old car backfiring. And then it started moving.

“Ah!” she screamed and jumped back.

“What you do?” asked Slavanka.

“I didn’t do anything! I just touched it…”

More bangs and clangs and dings rang out from behind the brick wall. And then a single, impeccably wrapped present appeared on the belt high above our heads.

We all watched as the belt carried it across the room. And then it got to the end and fell ten feet to the floor.

It bounced once. Twice. Thrice. And then the belt stopped and the glass atrium once again fell into silence.

A shiver went down my spine. “Wow, okay. This feels very murdery.”

“Does it?” asked Ash. “But it’s so beautiful wrapped. Look at those corners. And the tie on that bow.”

“Exactly. It’s too perfect. Definitely the work of a serial killer.” Was Isabella a serial killer? It seemed likely.

Ash didn’t seem to share my concerns though, because she ran right over to the package. “You guys!” she yelled as she looked at the tag. “It’s to us. From… From… Santa!!!”

I was going to warn her not to open it, but it was too late. She’d already untied the bow and torn the paper off.

Inside was a square red and green box. Ash lifted the lid off and pulled out the contents: a little metal rectangle with a big red button.

“What do you think it’s for?” she asked.

“It bomb,” said Slavanka.

“Yup. Definitely a bomb,” I agreed.

Ash laughed. “You guys, why would Santa want to blow us up? Especially with you dressed like that, Slavanka.” It looked like this was the first she’d noticed that Slavanka was dressed like an absolute Christmas snack. “Wow. What lucky guy was getting you for Christmas?”

“Chad,” said Slavanka.

“Chad as in…” Ash looked at me. “Your Chad?”

“Long story,” I said. “Which I’ll be happy to tell you as soon as we’re at least 500 yards away from that bomb.”

Ash shook her head. “Santa wouldn’t send us a bomb.”

“Yeah, but Crazy Isabella would. And she’d label it as being from Santa so that we’d push it.”

Ash looked horrified. “Wow. You really think she’s that crazy? Even if she is, it doesn’t matter. Because everyone knows that Santa’s magic makes it physically impossible for anyone to label a present as being from Santa unless it’s actually from him.”

“That is definitely not true.”

“He must have included instructions or a note or something,” said Ash, turning the button over and getting dangerous close to inadvertently hitting it. “Aha!” She held up the lid of the box. “There’s a message inside. It says: If you want to help me deliver presents, hit this button.”

“Don’t!” I yelled.

But it was too late.

Ash flipped the button over and pushed it.