Page 89 of Making It Burn

My stomach dropped.

“Come on, don’t be shy!Who wants to start us off?”Paul’s gaze landed on someone near the tree, and his smile turned calculating.“Mason!Perfect.Get over here.”

Oh God, no.

Mason’s expression remained neutral as he walked toward Paul, but I saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched.

“Excellent!”Paul clapped him on the back.“Now we need someone else.Let’s see...”His eyes swept the room again, passing over several people before landing on me.“Beau!Come on up!”

Fuck.

Lisa, standing beside me, grabbed my arm.“Is he serious right now?”

I didn’t answer.I just walked toward Paul and Mason on legs that felt like lead.

Paul positioned us under a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the chandelier, and I felt everyone’s eyes on us.Mason’s expression was completely blank.

“Perfect!”Paul’s voice carried across the room, gleeful and pointed.“Our two star associates!You guys have been absolutely killing it.MediCorp, Henderson Technologies.An unstoppable team!”

Everyone was watching.The entire firm, all our colleagues, gathered in a circle around us with their phones out and their champagne glasses raised.

“So,” Paul said, drawing out the word, “tradition dictates that you two have to kiss.Nothing too scandalous—just a quick peck.You know, for luck!”

The room erupted in good-natured cheers and laughter, and I felt my face go hot.

I looked at Mason, trying to gauge his reaction, and what I saw made my blood run cold.

Panic.Pure, unadulterated panic in his eyes.Beads of sweat dotted his now pasty white forehead.

“Come on, you two!”someone shouted.“It’s just a kiss!”

“Don’t leave us hanging!”another voice called out, followed by several loud guffaws.

Mason’s hands were clenched at his sides, his breathing shallow, and I realized he was about to bolt.About to make a scene that would raise more questions than just kissing me would.

So, I made a choice.

“Sorry, folks,” I said, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to my own ears.“But I don’t kiss colleagues.Professional boundaries and all that.”I clapped Mason on the shoulder, the most casual gesture I could manage, and stepped away from the mistletoe.“Paul, you should go first.Lead by example!”

The crowd laughed, and someone pushed Paul toward a woman from accounting, but before the moment could shift completely, Patsy Carter’s voice cut through the noise.

“Paul.”

Everyone turned.Patsy stood near the bar, her expression pleasant but her eyes sharp as knives.She held a champagne flute in one hand and radiated an authority that came from decades of commanding courtrooms.

“Yes, Patsy?”Paul’s smile faltered slightly.

“A word?”It wasn’t a question.

Paul’s face went through several expressions—confusion, nervousness, forced nonchalance—before he excused himself and followed Patsy toward a quiet corner of the room.

The crowd’s attention shifted to other things.Someone pushed another victim under the mistletoe, and I used the distraction to escape toward the terrace doors.

I needed to get out of here right now.

“Beau, wait—” Mason’s voice behind me.

But I was already pushing through the doors, the cold December air filling my lungs.