Page 91 of He Knows When You're Awake

“You know,” she says, setting the glass down again, “for all their faults, Moth to the Flame had some incredibly talented people. I can’t save everyone’s job, but...” She starts counting on her fingers. “Marcus’s metalwork, Sarah’s stone setting, Jenna in procurement who somehow found the impossible...” She stops suddenly. “Oh god, Chloe. I need to text her. Moth to the Flame was her biggest contract. All those sponsored posts, the events—”

“Chloe,” I say, “is about to be very busy as the face of your collection. And as for the others...” I gesture to her phone. “Make your list. Anyone you vouch for, I’ll make sure they land somewhere. If not with your new venture, then with one of my subsidiaries.”

She looks at me for a long moment. “Just like that?”

“Just like that. Talent is talent, and I trust your judgment.”

The waiter clears our dinner plates and presents the dessert menu. Sloane’s been quieter for the last few minutes, turning her wineglass by the stem.

“So,” she says, not quite meeting my eyes. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

I look up from the menu. In the whirlwind of the past month—her moving into the penthouse, getting Havoc, decorating that ridiculous tree—we somehow never discussed our first Christmas.

“Your mother’s still upset you’re not going to Montauk?” I ask, though I already know the answer from the heated phone calls I’ve overheard.

“She’ll survive.” Sloane takes a sip of wine. “I told her I’m not spending Christmas watching her drink too much wine and make passive-aggressive comments about my life choices.”

“And what are those life choices?” I set down the menu. “Getting your CEO to buy a crooked Christmas tree? Letting a puppy chew up my Italian leather shoes? Or is it the part where you’re building an empire while your mother thinks you should be in Montauk drinking white wine and discussing tennis lessons?”

“The shoes were Havoc’s choice, not mine,” she says primly, but I can see her fighting a smile.

“All of the above.” She grins, but then it falters slightly. “We are spending tomorrow together, right? I mean, I just assumed, with the tree and everything...”

I reach across the table and take her hand. “I should warn you—I haven’t done a real Christmas since I was a kid. I might be terrible at it.”

“Good thing you have me then.” Her fingers lace through mine. “One month to master a jewelry collection, remember? I’m excellent at impossible tasks.”

Looking at her across the table in the warm light of Gloria’s, I see the woman who changed every plan I thought I had. Who made me want something more than just success.

First Christmas Eve. Then her empire. But tonight, we’re having dessert. And for the first time in my life, I’m not thinking about what comes next. I’m exactly where I want to be.

Chapter Thirty-FiveSloane

Iwake to the sound of Cole having what appears to be a very serious conversation with our puppy.

“The tree is not a bathroom,” he’s saying in the same tone he probably uses for hostile takeovers. “We discussed this.”

Havoc’s response is the scraping sound of another ornament being batted across the floor.

I slip out of bed and peek around my bedroom door. Cole’s in his usual impeccable suit—he has a morning meeting he couldn’t reschedule—but he’s on his knees trying to extract a silver ball from under the couch while Havoc helpfully pounces on his tie.

“That’s Hermès silk you’re treating like a chew toy.” But he’s scratching behind Havoc’s ears even as he says it.

“Your tie collection was doomed the day we got him,” I say, and Cole looks up, caught in the act of baby-talking to a puppy. “I have photographic evidence of the mighty CEO on his hands and knees at seven in the morning.”

“Delete it.”

“Not a chance.” I snap another picture as Havoc successfully steals the tie. “This is definitely becoming my Christmas card next year.”

Cole stands, abandoning the tie to its fate. His eyes do that slowsweep that makes my skin heat. I’m wearing one of his dress shirts that I stole weeks ago, and his gaze lingers on my bare legs.

“I’m only going to be gone two hours,” he says, stepping closer. “Three at most.”

“We have all day.” I straighten his collar, deliberately brushing my fingers against his neck. “Go be a CEO. Havoc and I need to wrap your presents anyway.”

“About that.” He glances at the pile of wrapped gifts under the tree. “You do realize there are significantly more packages there than last night.”

“Knox helped me hide them in the garage. And before you say anything about excessive gift-giving, I saw your security team trying to be stealthy all week. They’re terrible at it, by the way. Even Havoc noticed them sneaking around with those giant boxes.”