Page 62 of Sweet Poison

Because of that perfect fucking smile.

After what feels like an eternity she nods, shy but excited, and I can’t help but grin back.

Maybe I can still be that hero she sees in me—this time for more than just defending her.

Perhaps I can be the man that can paint the world for her.

Chapter

Twenty

MOM, I KISSED SANTA CLAUS!

Madden

“Jingle all the way straight to hell.” — M

“Ihope you enjoy your evening, Mr. Hunt.”

Only my team and I know my restaurant’s mission, and frankly, I prefer it that way. Nobody needs to know because then it becomes about me and that’s not the goal. I don’t want or need the praise and the fake love that comes from helping others. I couldn’t give one single fuck.

Twinkling Christmas lights hang from the ceiling, as they do throughout the hotel, casting a soft glow over the restaurant. Each table is elegantly set, each one adorned with crystal bases holding green flickering candles and evergreen centerpieces covered in fake snow.

The napkins match the decor, and tiny Christmas tree confetti is scattered across the table like sparkly little reminders of cheer.

I let out a slow sigh, taking in the festive shit already getting used to them. Oddly they don’t annoy me as much as they did before.

“Mommy! Mommy! Look.” A little girl, no older than five, shrieks from a nearby table, her voice cutting through the Christmas songs playing in the background. I turn to see her family, all dressed to the nines, clearly enjoying their meal. The child is showing her mother the two baby carrots she wedged up her nose, giggling like it's the funniest shit in the world. Her parents and other siblings are laughing, but it’s the expressions that catches my attention— pure love and pride lighting up their faces.

They look so damn happy. Every family and couple here are smiling, reveling in the evening, their joy so genuine it feels like a wave crashing over me. It’s a reminder that the world keeps spinning, no matter how I feel about this damn holiday or happiness in general.

I wonder what it would feel like to feel that happy, that warm inside.

I take a deep breath, trying to absorb the energy around me, hoping to let it seep into my bones. Maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to embrace the holiday season.

For her.

Always her.

As I glance at my table, I notice that the decoration is not the same as the rest. After I gave the order to tone the Christmas cheer around me, my staff followed through with the asshole request.

A sudden thought strikes me, and I signal the nearest waiter, a young woman with an overly friendly smile who approaches hesitantly.

“Mr. Hunt. What can I get for you?” she asks. A hint of uncertainty in her voice.

“Can you make my table look like the others?” I ask, my voice gentle but firm.

She hesitates, confusion flickering across her face. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought you asked for no holiday decor?”

I nod slowly, meeting her eyes with a steely gaze. “I changed my mind. Now please, bring it all out and make it as festive as you can. I want sparkles, cheer and all that crap”

With a small nod and a subtle smile, she scurries off, and I can’t help but smirk.The shit I do for this woman…

I lean back in my chair, scrolling through email when the waitress returns, her arms filled with an intricate centerpiece. Bright red and white decorations spill over the edges and strings of lights too. She sets down an arrangement of candy canes and ornaments, topped with a shimmering star, and places small candy cane bowls at each corner of the table.

“Here you go!” she beams, arranging everything with care and joy. “Here you go, Mr. Hunt. I hope this is cheerful enough?” she adds a few more touches—twinkling string lights and a couple of red jingle bells that clink softly— she steps back, her brown eyes sparkling with delight.

I look at the work she did and then back at her nodding. “Thank you,” I say, my voice terse. “This will do.”

---