IVY
The corridors of the building were neat and tidy, but weren't anything particularly special. I'd have expected posters of past successful toys, or something like that. Anything that gave me an idea about what made the company tick.
My attention strayed to Nick. Maybe it wasn't just the company I wanted to know about. I'd been thinking about our upcoming date all weekend and decided that I was excited about it, even if I had been a little bold in asking for it. And somehow, he was now the person I was supposed to work with.
"Was your friend all right the other night?" he asked as he directed me into a stairwell. "After everything with Zeus?"
I nodded. "She was fine. And she hasn't stopped talking about it since. I think she's proud of the fact she got to be one of the people who threw something over Zeus."
He chuckled. "I can see that she might enjoy being part of the elite club of people who managed to reject Zeus. Though in recent years, I think they've been admitting more members."
"Ah, the problem with the internet. People know what he looks like and have heard of his reputation," I said.
"Exactly." He held out a door for me.
I slipped past, only aware of how close it brought the two of us. There was no ignoring the pleasant scent that came from him. It was part whatever aftershave he was wearing, but there was also the scent of freshly shaved wood. It only made me want to move closer to him, but I resisted.
We turned a corner and he led me into a small canteen-like staffroom where a state-of-the-art coffee machine sat waiting.
"Fancy," I said.
"It was what my staff asked for," he responded. "I think most of them thought I'd only put it where the management team could access it, but I insisted on it being here."
"This is where the factory workers come on their lunch breaks?" I checked.
He nodded. "Or whenever they need a few minutes of peace. The factory floor can be intense."
"I'm surprised you manufacture here and not somewhere cheaper."
"Toys have been made on this plot of land since my grandfather's grandfather started his toyshop, I have no intention of ever changing that. Our toys are premium, and that means that I can pay my staff a wage that reflects that."
"Ah, so a family history to go with the toys," I said. "That's good. And the made in the UK angle could also be good."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're still thinking about marketing?"
"Of course. That's what I'm here to do," I pointed out. "And part of that is learning what it is about your business that makes it unique."
He nodded. "That's fair. What coffee did you want?"
"A gingerbread latte," I said, picking up the gingerbread syrup.
He reached out to take the bottle from me, his fingers brushing against mine as he did. It did funny things to my insides to have him touch me, even if it was only a passing touch.
"It feels festive," I said weakly in an attempt to distract myself from the effect he'd had on me.
"Ah, you're getting into the Christmas spirit." His voice came out a little gravelly, only making it more appealing. I needed to be careful. It was okay for me to find him attractive, but I couldn't let it distract me from what I was supposed to be doing.
"It is that time of year. Can you not say that you feel the same?"
"Absolutely. I love this time of year." Something in his demeanour changed and his whole face lit up. "There's nothing better than having the chance to feast with friends or see the joy on a child's face when you give them an unexpected toy."
I chuckled. "So you're the CEO of a toy company, you love Christmas, and you love giving kids toys. That basically makes you Santa."
"Probably because I am," he responded without even missing a beat. He finished my latte and put it down in front of me before starting to make his own.
I blinked a couple of times. "You're Santa?"
"I prefer Nick," he said. "But yes. Santa Claus, Father Christmas, Sinterklaas, the Lord of Misrule, all me."
I cleared my throat. "Right."
"Huh, you're taking less convincing than I thought." He picked up his coffee and took a sip, nodding in satisfaction. "A gingerbread latte was the right choice."
"I did meet you at a Jinx mixer," I said. "And why would you lie about it?"
He shrugged. "To try and get you to sleep with me."
"Would that work?" My mouth was kind of dry at the insinuation, even though it wasn't like I hadn't been thinking about it.
He chuckled wryly. "You wouldn't believe the number of people who've tried over the years. I think the fact they can ask to sit on my lap makes them bold."
"Do you..." I stopped myself before I could ask the rest of my highly inappropriate question, especially when he was kind of my boss now. I picked up my mug and took a sip.
"Only when I like the person," he said. "And never in the suit."
"So you really do dress up in a red suit and hand out presents?" I asked, starting to get more curious now that the initial shock was wearing off a bit.
"Not to everyone in the world, but to some people, yes. If I was to listen to my grandfather, we were descended from Saint Nicholas."
"Wasn't he a member of the clergy?" I asked.
"Yes. So it's unlikely. But my grandfather was a toymaker, and he prided himself in always having a certain number of toys he could give to the less fortunate around this time of year. He instilled the same desire in me."
"And when you're talking about your grandfather, how long ago was this?" I should have twigged that when he said that toys had been made by members of his family on this spot before, but considering I'd been assuming he was fae of some kind, that wasn't that unusual.
He shrugged. "Five hundred years or so."
"Oh, that isn't as long ago as I expected." I leaned back against the counter, considering everything he'd been telling me and if it changed anything.
"You don't seem particularly fazed by my age." He studied my face.
"My dad was in his three hundreds when they had me," I responded.
"Ah, you're fae."
I nodded, not disclosing any further. I didn't really have anything against him knowing I was an elf, especially when it couldn't be hidden the moment anyone saw my ears. "So, Mrs Claus?"
He chuckled, leaning in slightly. "Checking that I'm single?"
I shrugged. "You could be in an open relationship with her.
"There's no Mrs Claus," he assured me. "There never has been."
"Good, good," I said absentmindedly as I processed his answer.
His lips curled up into an amused smile. "Is there a reason you're so interested in my marital status?"
"We are supposed to be going on a date on Thursday," I reminded him, picking up my latte. "Unless you don't mix business with pleasure." I took a sip, enjoying the sweetly festive taste. It really was a good way to get into the festive spirit.
He ran his hand across his short beard, looking at me with dark eyes. "I've never had a reason to before."
"And now you do?"
"If it doesn't break the rules of the contract you have with your company, then I'd still like to go for dinner." His voice was low and inviting, only drawing attention to how close together we were somehow standing. We were lucky there was no one else in the room.
I closed my eyes and groaned. "How could I forget the contract?"
"Ah, so no fraternising with clients?" The disappointment in his voice echoed deep within me.
I shook my head. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I understand. We've only just met and your job is important. We can postpone the date until after you've completed your contract with us."
"Maybe you'll be fed up with me by then," I responded.
"Oh, I don't think that's going to be possible, Ivy.
" The way he said my name made my pulse race and my whole body go kind of warm and fuzzy.
Which was a very bad reaction for me to have when my contract forbade anything with clients.
And it wasn't as if I was going to pass up on an opportunity to have my own client just because I found Nick attractive.
"We'll see," I said. "So, the office?" I stepped back, putting some well-needed distance between us.
Hopefully, I'd find some reason that he was less attractive to me so I could get those feelings under control, but even after barely an hour in the Cringle offices, I was starting to think that wasn't going to be possible at all.