Page 11 of Her Holiday Arrangement
Camille was thorough. That’s all. There was no need for any of it to beused. No one expected her to actually see Riley in expensive lingerie.
Elizabeth’s jaw tightened.
This was a business transaction. A short-term arrangement. Appearances needed to be maintained, nothing more.
Riley Jensen was her assistant. Smart. Reliable. A walking disaster, stylistically speaking, but resourceful. Quick on her feet. No one would ever believe they were dating, but that wasn’t the point. They just needed toappearclose. Familiar. In sync.
Pretend.
Elizabeth turned from the window and set her mug down a little too hard.
One of the assistants flinched.
She ignored it. Walked briskly down the hall and peeked into the guest room where the racks now stood lined in neat rows: evening wear, winter coats, ski gear, casual knits, intimate wear. A custom holiday wardrobe, each piece hand-selected, color-matched, wrinkle-free.
Elizabeth’s gaze swept over it all, dispassionately.
Then, foolishly, it snagged on a red wool sweater folded at the edge of the bed. Whimsical reindeer stitched across the front, and for their noses, God help her, tiny pom-poms.
Elizabeth felt something flutter in her chest.
Memory. Riley laughing in the office last month, holding up a mug someone had gifted her withJINGLE MY BELLSin bold letters. Hair a frizzy mess from the rain, cheeks flushed pink, that unfiltered, ridiculous laugh bubbling out of her.
Elizabeth had pretended to be annoyed at the noise.
She hadn’t been annoyed.
She exhaled, long and controlled, and shut the door firmly.
None of this mattered. She wasn’t doing this because shelikedRiley. She was doing it because the optics of being dumped before Christmas were unacceptable.
She had to show her family, and the board, and anyone else watching, that she was fine. Unshaken. Still the picture of elegance, control, and composure.
The elevator chimed again.
Riley.
Elizabeth’s breath hitched for half a second. Then she smoothed it out and went to greet her assistant, her faux-girlfriend for the holidays.
Let the performance begin.
The driver opened the lobby doors just as Elizabeth stepped out into the icy morning air. The black SUV idled at the curb, gleaming and warm, flanked by two staff members already moving to load her luggage. Her coat, a long, sharply tailored navy wool, brushed against her calves as she descended the penthouse steps with practiced grace.
Riley was waiting beside the vehicle.
And, to Elizabeth’s mild surprise, she looked… almost elegant.
The coat, a deep forest green cashmere wrap, cinched neatly at the waist. The boots were suede, heeled, tasteful. A matching knit scarf hung loose around her neck, not quite arranged, not quite messy. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, brown hair curling just slightly from humidity, and she was worrying the edge of one of her sleeves like it might unravel.
The transformation was jarring. And oddly captivating.
Elizabeth let her eyes linger for half a second longer than necessary.
Then Riley turned and smiled at her, nervous, earnest, bright-eyed.
“I feel like a Christmas cupcake,” she said, immediately, before Elizabeth could speak. “A very expensive cupcake. Is that a thing?”
Elizabeth arched one brow. “If it is, you look appropriately frosted.”
