Page 1 of Santa's Dark Secret

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MILA

Okay, I know this is going to sound crazy, but when I was a little girl, only six or seven years old, I saw Santa Claus, and not just in my dreams or in a movie. It was as real as it gets. I saw the big guy in red right there in my living room, muddy boots and all. I’d gotten out of bed late on Christmas Eve to get a glass of milk, and just as I was making my way back to my bedroom, I saw him shimmy his red-suited ass out of my family’s fireplace.

Even as a little girl, I’d already heard the rumors on the playground—that the famous present bringer wasn’t real. Other kids said that the whole story about Santa and Mrs. Claus, along with their toy-making elves at the North Pole, was nothing but an elaborate ruse to get little boys and girls to fall in line, and I believed those rumors until his big ass appeared in my living room.

Sure, I was losing my tiny mind, realizing that the other kids had been wrong and that Santa was real, but what really surprised me wasn’t Santa at all. It was the young boy whofollowed him out of my fireplace and stood so confidently in my living room.

He was nothing at all like jolly old St. Nick. He was the polar opposite. Dark hair with even darker eyes, and though he was only a boy, there was a strange confidence about him that I will never forget.

They were only there for barely a second, and as Santa put a present under my tree, the boy simply stared at me with a smirk across his full lips, looking at me as though he was just as intrigued as I was. I stood soundlessly in a puddle of milk, barely able to believe what was happening. Then as Santa made his way back to the fireplace, the boy winked, and like a flash of lightning, they were both gone, leaving my little six-year-old mind blown.

I’ve held a torch for that little boy all my life. Even now as a grown-ass woman, I find myself wondering what he looks like now, what kind of man he turned into, and if that boyish charm grew into an intriguing manly deliciousness.

Insane, right? Yeah, that’s exactly what my mother thought too.

The moment I told her I’d seen Santa and a child appear in our living room in the middle of the night, she declared I’d lost my mind. I was clearly acting out due to my parents’ recent divorce. I barely had a chance to enjoy Christmas before Mom swept me into a therapist’s office to start talking about myhallucinations.

My mother, may she rest in peace, was a fickle woman. Scrap that, she was a cold-hearted bitch. I never got along with her, and truth be told, I think it was her immediate dismissal of what happened that night that started the rocky journey we shared.

All through my childhood and well into my teen years, we fought. I can’t remember a single day where there was peace between us, and I was eventually shipped off to live with my father. He, on the other hand, was a delight. I loved my father,and considering how well we got along, I always wished that we had been able to spend more time together. My mother had fought so hard for sole custody just to spite him, but we all would have been so much happier if I had always lived with him.

But just like Mom, my father recently passed away.

Imagine being barely twenty-six and having to bury both your parents within six months of each other. It’s been a rough year, to say the least. Mom was taken out by a plastic surgery gone wrong, and my father, the poor bastard, was allergic to healthy food and exercise. His heart attack wasn’t exactly the biggest surprise, but that didn’t make the pain of losing him any easier.

“Earth to Mila,” my friend, Carolina, says, waving her hands in front of my face, snapping me out of my internal misery. We’re at our company’s ridiculous idea of a Christmas party, and unfortunately, this was a mandatory event. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good Christmas party. There’s nothing better than watching Jan from Accounting get wasted off two martinis and slutting it up for Nathan in HR. She’s been twerking on him for the past twenty minutes, and as amusing as it is, I’m not feeling it tonight.

“Sorry,” I murmur, plastering on a fake smile and lifting my glass to my lips, hoping the cheap wine can somehow dull the ache in my chest—an ache that wasn’t put there by the loss of my father only a few short months ago. No, this is a whole new ache. This one is as fresh as they come. “Stuck in my head again.”

As of a week ago, I had it all. The perfect boyfriend, Brandon, who I’d hoped was going to propose for Christmas, and a best friend, Amelia, who was my rock through this past year, who held me up when I fell to pieces and was there to wipe my tears when the pain became too much.

But unfortunately for me, my boyfriend was involved in a tragic accident when he slipped and fell straight into my best friend’s vagina. It hit me out of nowhere. I was completelyblindsided. I’d gone over to Amelia’s apartment to surprise her with an early Christmas gift for being such an amazing friend, and turns out, I was the one who got the surprise.

I walked straight into her apartment to see my boyfriend bending her over the couch I sleep on, screwing her brains out.

My heart fell right out of my chest, shattering into a million pieces, and since then, I’ve been a ghost of the woman I once was. In the space of ten months, I’ve lost everyone important in my life. My whole support system has crumbled. Mom. Dad. Amelia, and Brandon.

I do still have Carolina, the woman currently staring at me as though I’ve lost my mind. While I’ve known her for a few years, we’re just colleagues, and our friendship doesn’t often expand outside of working hours.

“Come on,” Carolina says. “We’re at a party, and even though it’s a shitty party with even shittier wine, you should try to have some fun. I know it’s been an awful year for you, but tonight is your chance to relax and let off a little steam.”

I shrug my shoulders, glancing out at the pathetic excuse of a Christmas party around me. Carolina and I work for a prestigious law firm in New York, and honestly, we’re more than lucky to be here, but I’m starting to wonder if any of it is even worth the long, grueling hours. We each finished our law degree, and after interning here, we secured positions. However, the empty promises of promotions are starting to land on deaf ears.

Both of us are at the bottom of the barrel, basically doing all the grunt work for thereal lawyerswhile we idly sit by, waiting for someone to realize that we’re more than just paper pushers, and might actually know a thing or two about what we’re doing here. I suppose I’m partly to blame for that. I could have pushed myself to be noticed and valued, and I was in that mindset until this year went to shit. Now, I don’t even know if I care aboutthis job or the career that could blossom from it. I’m not fulfilled here anymore.

Carolina and I became fast friends and have spent every lunch break—assuming we get one—together for the past four years, and yet, I can’t quite figure out why our office friendship hasn’t translated into a real outside-of-work friendship. Point is, I’m twenty-six, and I thought at this stage of my life, I would have so much more than just . . . this.

I scoff as I gaze at my friend. “I don’t know if I can afford to relax. Every time I do, someone seems to drop dead or stab me in the back.”

A cheeky grin rips across Carolina’s face. “Well, look at it this way. There’s no one left to drop dead or stab you in the back, so what do you have to lose?”

“Damn,” I laugh, throwing back what’s left of my wine. “You’re going in hard tonight.”

Carolina laughs. “Let your hair down, Mila. Let’s get wasted on the company’s dime and have a great night. There are only a few days until Christmas, and from tonight until after New Year’s Day, you’re officially on break, so who cares if you wake up tomorrow with a killer hangover and a man in your bed? As long as he rocks your world. It’s a win-win, girl. What could go wrong?”

I give her a blank stare, and as the idea sits with me, I quickly get on board.

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