Page 39 of Suddenly Mine

Mrs Cradley adjusted her clipboard with a sigh. “I’ve got to get upstairs. Just . . . keep him busy, will you? And don’t let him near the other Carroll.”

Margot nodded. “I’ll handle it.”

They parted quickly, Cradley disappearing towards the staff elevator, and Margot vanishing down the aisle. Christian stayed hidden a moment longer, heart racing, trying to piece it all together.

He knows too much . . . Stop him . . . Keep him busy . . .

So they were hiding something. He wasn’t paranoid after all. Christian backed away slowly, slipping into the board games aisle and leaning against a stack of Guess Who. Something was definitely going on and it sounded like he was running out of time to find out what.

Merry had done him a favour. Without her as a distraction he could concentrate all his efforts on saving Carroll’s, which is what he should have been doing all along. He desperately needed to do some more research and he was also desperately in need of a shower so he decided to head back to his hotel and sort out both.

Christian dropped off his trolley and stepped out into the brittle winter sunlight, the city wind whipping down Fifth Avenue with no regard for his mood. He tightened his coat and kept his head down, ignoring the smell of roasting chestnuts from a nearby vendor, the twinkle of lights in the plaza tree, the sound of tourists cooing over store windows. Last night,Christmas in New York had been magic. Right now, it felt like a bad joke.

His hotel was just over the road and he smiled at the doorman as he ducked inside. A grand chandelier glittered overhead and the floors gleamed like a freshly frozen pond, but none of that mattered to him as he hurried to the elevator and hit the button to call it to take him up to his penthouse suite.

It was more apartment than hotel room: double-height ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the park, and a Christmas tree so tastefully decorated it looked like it belonged in a lifestyle magazine. Christian didn’t bother turning on the lights. He let the winter daylight filter in through the glass, casting everything in that same cold grey that had settled over him too.

He dropped his bag by the sofa and pulled off his coat, remembering that Merry still had his lumberjack jacket. That was probably lost to him now, too, much the same as she was, which was a shame as they had been both turning into his favourites. He walked through the suite, stripping off his jumper, unbuttoning his shirt, tugging loose the rest as he made his way to the en suite bathroom.

Steam billowed quickly in the glass-and-marble shower, fogging the mirrors and softening the edges of the room. Christian stepped under the hot spray, bracing his hands against the tiled wall as the water sluiced over him. For a while, he just stood there, letting it beat down on his shoulders, willing it to scald away the confusion and the pain, and the way her voice still echoed in his ears.

But it was no use. Because the second he closed his eyes, she was there.

The memory of Merry hit him like hot treacle. The scent of her skin, the press of her mouth, the way her breath had caught when he’d kissed down her throat. He could feel the silk of herthighs against his hands, the tremble in her legs when he made her come, the taste of her still on his tongue.

He pressed his forehead to the cool tile and drew breath. And then the sweetness turned sour.Why on earth would I date a janitor?The pain sliced through him, a punch straight to his gut from the betrayal he hadn’t seen coming.

He slammed his palm against the wall, the sound echoing in the marble room. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But somehow, Merry had gotten under his skin, past his defences, and she hadn’t even known who he really was. Maybe that was the cruellest part of all.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to wash her out of his system. With a grunt, he forced himself upright and finished showering quickly, the sting of the hot water turning lukewarm by the time he shut it off.

He stepped out, wrapped a thick white towel around his waist and ran a hand through his dripping hair as he padded barefoot into the living area. The floor-to-ceiling windows threw long stripes of winter light across the rug and, in the sudden hush, the city felt a million miles away.

The folder from his dad sat where he’d left it on the coffee table and Christian dropped on to the sofa and spread the papers out in front of him. Financials, staff rotas, delivery logs, anonymised internal complaints. He scanned the pages, eyes flicking from margin to margin, looking for gaps, overlaps, irregularities. Anything that would point the finger at Margot and maybe Mrs Cradley, the Dragon Lady, too.

But his concentration was splintered. His body ached, and not just from the manual labour of work over the last few days. A deep, bone-level tiredness tugged at him. He made it halfway through the second delivery report before his eyelids started to droop. He shifted, blinked hard, and tried again. Then suddenly he was gone.

The city kept moving outside the glass, horns and sirens, and wind against the panes. But inside the penthouse suite, Christian slumped sideways on the couch, towel askew, papers scattered around him like snowdrifts. And in sleep, his brow was furrowed, because even in his dreams, Merry was still there.

Chapter 17

MERRY

The store was finally empty. The last customer had left nearly forty minutes ago, arms loaded with snow globes and scented candles. Now the aisles were quiet, the lights dimmed to their evening setting, and only a few of the closing team remained, straightening shelves and sweeping glitter into neat little piles.

Merry stood in the staff room, rubbing at the base of her spine. Her feet were killing her. Her head throbbed, her throat hurt from forcing a smile all day, and her eyes stung with unshed tears.

She was two hours past the end of her shift and she really should have gone home, but the chaos of the holiday rush had swallowed the day whole, and she’d barely noticed the time ticking by. It was only now, as she was peeling off her uniform and looking at the clock, that it hit her how exhausted she was. And how hollow she felt.

Christian hadn’t come back. Not that she could blame him. He’d disappeared into the store and hadn’t resurfaced, and it had taken everything in her not to cry openly every time she remembered the look of betrayal in his eyes.

Her words had hurt him. Worse, they’d changed how he saw her, and she deserved that. But she wasn’t that person, and now she’d have no way to tell him how sorry she was.

Pulling her coat tightly around herself, Merry trudged towards the exit, her boots squeaking against the polished floor. She braced herself, ready to face the cold, then stopped. Across the empty shop floor, she caught sight of a familiar shape in jeans and a thick sweater, his damp hair curling slightly at the ends. Christian.

She froze, caught somewhere between relief and panic. He didn’t look like he was on shift — he wasn’t in his overalls and his trolley was nowhere to be seen — and from what Merry had seen on her stalk of the rota, he wasn’t due on again until the morning. What was he doing back?

She stayed hidden for a moment, half in shadow by the display of discounted snow globes. But she couldn’t look away. The sight of him clean-shaven, freshly showered, hit her like a sucker punch.