Page 11

Chapter

Ten

SWEET GRINCH

Willow

“I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree…” — M

A s I step off the elevator and onto my floor, I’m still trying to make sense of everything that’s just happened. Madden. The dinner he hijacked and the way he acted as if I weren’t one of the researchers working on his grounds but someone he once knew and still remembers.

The confetti cake.

The way he commanded the dinner and how he made sure I got what I had asked for.

He did all that, and my mind is still reeling, struggling to make sense of any of it. Maybe I shouldn’t read too much into it, but I can’t help myself. I’ve always been this way, overthink everything.

I sigh and try to not think about him or the dinner anymore.

As the elevator doors close behind me I notice the hallway is quiet, almost too quiet, but then I hear raised voices echoing from the direction of my door. Curiosity piques, and I quicken my pace because one of those voices I know all too well.

My uncle.

Turning the corner, I spot my uncle Cianne standing in front of our suite’s doors, dressed in all white and a cocktail drink in his hand and a crooked elf hat on his head. His clothes are slightly disheveled and his face is flushed with irritation. What is going on?

Beside him stands a large man in uniform looking nervous and visibly trembling under uncle Cianne’s harsh gaze.

“Who the fuck is Mr. Hunt?” Uncle Cianne’s voice is a growl, laced with frustration. “What is this shite? Why can’t I enter my room?”

The man stammers, his eyes darting between my very angry uncle and the door. “Again. My apologies, sir, but Mr. Hunt asked for Miss O’Sullivan to be moved to one of the luxury suites on the top floor tonight.”

Mr. Hunt requested what? Madden?

I open and close my mouth, unable to form words as I process what the man just said.

Uncle Cianne’s jaw tightens, his demeanor growing more menacing. “Who the fuck is Mr. Hunt and why the fuck is he requesting shite that concerns my niece?” Uncle is turning red and I know what will follow.

He turns into the hulk… literally. My uncle is nicest of all the men in my family but when he’s pissed off? May someone help the poor soul caught in his way. This time the staff member looks about ready to collapse but before that happens I intervene.

Stepping forward, my presence causes both men to look up. One looks absolutely terrified and miserable and the other looks angry as hell yet a bit relieved to see me standing there. Uncle Cianne’s eyes meet mine. “Uncle? What’s going on?” I sign, trying to get him to ease up on the poor man. “Please stop terrorizing the man.” Uncle Cianne’s gaze softens slightly as he sees me. “Willow,” he says, his tone shifting from anger to tenderness like a switch. “Did you have a good time?”

“It was fun,” I sign, then add. “And as if you didn’t spy on me from a distance.” I tease which makes him smile.

“I did no such thing.”

Raising an eyebrow I point to the jingle bell necklace around his neck that I know for a fact were given at the entrance of the restaurant because I too was given one.

Uncle Cianne looks down at the necklace and then looks back up at me with a sheepish smile looking boyish. “I’m never far behind. You know this.”

My heart warms at that. My uncle never spies on me and he always makes sure I don’t feel suffocated. “I know.” I sign back then glance back at the staff member, who looks like he’s just been granted a reprieve. “I’m sorry. We know you’re just doing your job,” I sign as I look at the man in the face. “My uncle and I will go to our new rooms. Right, uncle?”

I side eye my uncle which makes him smile. He nods, then turns his attention back to the man who is currently holding on to my luggage. “Fine. We’ll go.”

The staff member nods gratefully and retreats, leaving uncle Cianne and me alone. “Let’s get you to the top floor and see what the fuck is going on.”

I nod.

“Who the fuck this Mr. Hunt shite thinks he is.” Uncle Cianne mutters through gritted teeth.

“Do you remember Madden?” Since we’re both alone I use my voice.

Uncle looks at me while frowning. “The foster kid turned F1 champion?”

I cringe at that name even though my uncle means no harm.

Madden was so much more than that. More than just a foster kid. At one point he was my life line.

“He’s the owner of this resort.” I whisper as we walk.

Uncle’s eyebrows pull up in surprise. “No shite ?”

I shake my head. “No shite .”

We head toward the elevator and as the doors close behind us, I can’t help but wonder why Madden had requested to move me up to the luxury floor. Why is he doing all of this? And as we ascend to the top floor, I try to shake off the nagging feeling that there’s more to him and his actions than meets the eye.

“At least we got upgraded to the luxury floor, Orla . Why the fuck didn’t your cheap father didn’t book it for us?” Uncle clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “So cheap…”

I laugh knowing he’s not being serious. “You know damn well if he could get me the best room in this hotel he would have.” He would too. I suspect he tried but Mom wouldn’t have let him since all my life I’ve expressed how I never wanted special treatment and with my team members here I wouldn’t want them to feel like I’m using my family’s name to get ahead or get better accommodations than them. Not that that matters now since they’ll eventually find out about my new suite.

As the elevator doors slide open, the first thing I notice is how elegant the hallway looks with dim lighting and minimalist decor. The carpet is plush, the walls adorned with subtle, sophisticated decor. I scan the area with wide eyes, and that’s when I notice there are only two doors here—one that clearly belongs to Madden and the other I presume is our suite.

“Wow…” I whisper in awe as I take in the golden doors that resemble what the doors of heaven would look like. Grand. Luxurious. Incredibly unique.

A staff member emerges from the door to my new suite, his smile wide and professional. “Miss O’Sullivan, yes?” he says at the same time he signs, his voice warm and welcoming.

I nod in acknowledgement, and then he smiles wider and gestures toward the door of my suite. “Please, follow me.”

I look at Uncle Cianne and he gives me a reassuring smile.

Then we both watch as the man leads us to the door, unlocking it with a practiced flick of his wrist. As the door swings open, we’re greeted by a sight that takes my breath away. A sight that looks much the same as the lobby downstairs or even better.

Our new suite looks like a summer Christmas wonderland. Mint green dominates the space, giving the entire suite a fresh, cool vibe that feels like a frosty breath of winter in the middle of a hot and sunny summer. Twinkling white lights wound their way around the four elegant Christmas trees perfectly positioned in every corner of the suite. The ornaments that adorned their branches look like tiny mushrooms.

No way…

Thud.

Thud.

I reach up and tap my heart.

Every detail was meticulously crafted to make this suite look like a Christmas dream.

Looking around I notice that the plush rug underfoot is patterned with snowflakes of every size, and a lavish garland of pine and holly draped gracefully over the center table, its mantle crowded with an assortment of jingle bells and glowing green candles. The suite’s elegance can’t be missed, with velvet cushions and silk throws scattered about in harmonious disarray. Even the windows are dressed in sheer curtains adorned with frosted designs and Christmas lights.

“Damn…” Uncle Cianne booms from somewhere behind me.

Yup.

Damn.

As I keep looking around the suite, my gaze falls upon a towering Christmas tree in the corner next to a floor-length window. It is at least nine feet tall, its grandeur impossible to miss. Fake snow is dusted over its branches, lending it an air of wintry magic despite the summer setting.

But what really catches my attention is the tree’s decorations. Instead of the typical ornaments most people decorate with, this one is adorned with a delightful collection of mushrooms in Christmas colors and Santa hats. Each mushroom has a tiny hat and a jolly face. Then there are tiny cactuses with smiling faces on them. The colorful ornaments contrast beautifully with the glossy sparkle of the fake snow.

“How…” I wonder aloud. I look at the tree in awe but it is the glowing mushroom terrarium perched atop the fake chimney that truly steals my breath away. I hadn’t noticed it at first, but now it is all I see.

I walk closer to the chimney to take a closer look at the glass dome, encasing a miniature forest of vibrant and luminescent mushrooms. I stare at the soft, almost ethereal light that radiates from within, casting a magical glow that makes the room seem even more enchanting. The cute little mushrooms, with their translucent caps in shades of soft greens and reds, seem to pulse gently as if alive. Tiny ferns and mosses surround them, that add a touch of green and life to the dome. The more I look at it the more it feels as if someone has captured a piece of a fairy tale and brought it to life in this small, glowing terrarium.

Did he do this? It can’t be a coincidence that I’m moved to this suite by his order and it turns out to be something out of every childhood dream and memory I have and that he also shared with me once upon a time.

My heart feels like it might burst out of my chest at the thought that the grumpy man has done all of this for… me.

As I’m lost in thought, I’m brought back when Uncle Cianne strolls over to the suite’s bar, his eyes scanning the extensive collection of bottles just like I watched the terrarium with awe. He stops and his gaze settles on a bottle that makes his eyebrows arch in pleasant surprise. I look as well and there amidst the more ordinary brands, is a bottle of Rémy Martin Black Pearl Louis XIII.

I rarely drink, but my family loves it. Everything I know about it, I’ve learned from them.

With an amused smile, I watch my uncle pick up the bottle with a reverent and almost childlike curiosity. It truly is a stunning design. The rich, dark glass gleams under the dim light. “Now this,” Cianne murmurs, his voice low, “is something special, Willow. The fucker is loaded I see.”

Loaded would be an understatement.

Uncle carefully uncorks the bottle, and the rich aroma of the Louis XIII fills the air—dried fruit, spices, and a subtle hint of oak. The smell is so intoxicating that my uncle quickly fills a glass and chugs it down. He hisses and smiles wide before settling the glass down with a soft thud. His amused eyes then drift over to me before taking in the rest of the suite. “You know, I knew the kid was successful,” he says, more to himself than to me, “but damn, he’s on another level of rich. Good for the little fucker.” He chuckles, his tone a mix of admiration and disbelief as he keeps taking in the suite’s extravagant decorations and tasteful touches. His appreciative gaze sweeps from the towering Christmas tree to the adorable mushroom terrarium, finally settling back on me with a knowing look. “Huh…”

I frown. “What?”

A smirk appears on his face. “You got him whipped already, Willow girl.”

My frown deepens and I laugh awkwardly. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t. You’re just like your mom.” he says it almost reverently.

Before I can reply, my eyes land on a tiny bed tucked away next to one of the smaller trees. The small bed is adorned with miniature linens and looks like it is meant for a child or a very small doll. A soft, amused smile tugs at my lips as I realize this was intentional.

Uncle Cianne’s gaze follows mine, and his frown deepens as he registers the absurdly small bed. The realization seems to dawn on him at the same moment it had on me. He points a finger at the bed. “The motherfucker put me on a bed meant for a fucking dog,” Uncle says in disbelief but there’s no anger in his tone.

I laugh softly, nodding in agreement. “Oh… aside from super rich and famous—he’s kind of a grump, now, too.”

Uncle narrows his eyes at me and tilts his head. “Is that how you kids say asshole?”

I laugh harder now at the absurdity of it all then turn my back on my uncle and as I walk closer to the double doors that lead to the balcony, my eyes fall on a green plushy. It is a stuffed toy shaped like a Stropharia aeruginosa mushroom. The mushroom's smile is impossibly wide, giving it an endearing, almost cheeky appearance. It looks just like the one on my favorite t-shirt. My heart starts to pound hard as I look at the plushy. I can’t help but be charmed by the gesture. But then I see the small note stuck to the plush mushroom. It is delicately pinned to its side with a tiny, yellow pin.

With a curious smile, I reach out and carefully remove the note, not wanting to ruin the plushy. The handwriting is neat and elegant, a stark contrast to the playful nature of the toy.

I read somewhere that fairies love gifts. They love to give them and they love to receive them. Supposedly their favorites are small shiny objects. I hope this ugly fucker can suffice. - M

I read the note three times making sure what I read was right and I wasn’t imagining this all. The more I read it, the more butterflies make a kaleidoscope in my stomach.

“I think you made quite the impression on the fucker, my girl.” Uncle Cianne’s voice makes me turn around and look at him.

Holding the stuffed mushroom closer to my chest and the note, I beam.

Perhaps the handsome grinch’s heart is still the one I remember.

Perhaps two sizes too small but there regardless.