Page 7 of Unwrapping the Billionaire

“Three ghosts, Jonas,” announces my father, rising to his feet, as well. “Tonight, you will be visited by three flawless little sex kittens who evenyouwon’t wanna fuck with.”

“I look forward to it,” I say, inching toward the door. “It’ll save me wasting money on cocktails if they’re a foregone conclusion.”

“Three ghosts,” repeats my father, looking as solemn as I’ve ever seen him. “Past, Present and Future.”

“Catchy names,” I mutter, as I hear the dull thud of footsteps in the hallway outside. “I take it they’re not their real ones?” I glance across at my desk, but my father’s gone.

I can still hear his cackle though, even as the two security guards come bursting into my office

5

Jonas

Present

“Mr. Farley, sir? Is everything okay?”

“Did you see him?” I demand, marching back over to my now-empty desk. “Did you see the bastard who was sitting here?”

Was it all a nightmare?

No chance… The air is still tainted with my father’s shitty cologne, complete with an undercurrent of dirt and maggot.

“Err, no Mr. Farley.” The first security guard shakes his head slowly. I watch his gaze darting over my face.

No, I’m not going mad, dickhead. But my psychiatrist may be shortening his annual skiing holiday to Colorado.

“Can we do anything else for you, sir?”

“Yes. I want a cleaner in here right away. This place is fucking mess.”

With all the broken bottles littered about the floor, my office stinks worse than a bar.

The guy’s face pales. “But, sir… It’s Christmas Eve. All the cleaning staff left half an—”

“I don't care if you have to pull one out of your ass,” I yell, losing my shit completely. “I want someone in here within the next half hour, or I’m pink slipping you all the way back to the Stone Age!”

“Yes, Mr. Farley.”

They’re tripping over themselves to exit my office before I make good on my promise, a whole twenty-nine minutes early.

Grabbing the last, surviving bottle of Macallan, I reclaim my rightful place at my desk. The chair is fucking freezing though, and a violent shiver rips up my spine.

Three ghosts.

I need a drink.

I need Grace.

Where the fuck did that thought come from?

I’m interrupted by a knock. That was fast. Maybe those two jokers will get to keep their jobs, after all.

“Come in,” I say, raising the bottle to my lips.

The door bangs open, and my bottle slams back down to the desk. The hottest blonde I’ve ever laid eyes on is standing in my doorway, wearing nothing but white lingerie and a smile. Legs up to her armpits, hair like golden silk...Gigi Hadid, eat your heart out.I’m still picking my jaw off the floor as she saunters into my office.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?” I drawl.If she’s a fucking cleaner, so am I. “You look like an early Christmas present to me.”

---