Page 37 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell
“You know, I can handle Madrid if you want to stay here and continue plotting against Avery for the Christmas events?”
I eyed him. “The second I put Christmas in front of work is the second I might as well close up shop. Approve the bullshit, but donotlet the expenses get into the multi-millions, please.” I rolled my eyes at the thought. “That’s all I ask.”
“Never. We wouldn’t want Avery’s event to outshine the Birkinshire Gala, would we?”
“That was a two-billion-dollar merger,” I reminded him, “not a fucking Christmas party with fruitcakes.”
Before I could bitch about anything else, Brooke stepped in, calm as ever, tablet in hand. “Sir, the jet is fueled and cleared for takeoff. Your luggage is being loaded now. If you leave within the next fifteen minutes, you’ll land in Madrid at six-thirty local time—perfectly in time for your meeting with the de la Vega family. Your driver is waiting out front.”
“Very well,” I muttered, snapping the folder shut. “Call my wife and inform her of my last-minute trip. I’ll call from the plane to explain more when I’m in the air. Also,” I picked up the files of bullshit, “scan these into the computer and email them to me. Spencer will take and approve them after that.”
“Have a good trip,” Spence said as I moved past him.
“It’s time we lock in this deal for once and for all.”
“I’ll call Avery and let her know what’s going on. If you have Brooke do it, the next thing you know, she’s going to have Cat hired to decorate both your houses with live reindeer or something for being an insensitive ass.”
“True,” I chuckled, looking at Brooke. “Spencer will handle Avery. Just focus on scanning all those documents and email the file to me.”
This wasnothow I’d planned my morning after casually suggesting I’d take Addy to school, and have some time with my daughter, after some little punk at school broke her heart. However, I wasn’t going to lose that damn Madrid deal, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to lose this Christmas war either. On the jet was where I’d dig a little more to figure out what the fuck Avery was planning to do with Paramount and all the other bullshit I hadn’t properly read through that Spencer would be signing off on. I’d grab some sleep, and by the time I woke up, I would be in Madrid getting ink on this deal that should’ve been signed months ago by my overseas acquisitions team.
If anyone wasn’t getting chartered into mine and Avery’s festival of bullshit, it was the Madrid acquisitions team—the ones who dropped the ball. Now I was on a last-minute flight to Madrid to fix this mess, and I wouldn’t leave until that company was officially mine.
FIFTEEN
Avery
I’d just walkedinto the house where all our Christmas décor had been delivered by Jim’s staff and smiled when I saw they’d already set up the twelve-foot tree in our living room.
Our house in the Hills never failed to take my breath away at moments like this. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the living space, giving us an endless sweep of Los Angeles glittering below. At night, it always looked like the city was showing off just for us, a blanket of diamonds scattered across the valley.
The high ceilings gave the whole place a gallery feel, modern and grand, but it wasn’t cold or unwelcoming. Jim had insisted on clean lines and minimalist architecture, but I’d layered warmth into every corner. With throws draped across the leather sectional, oversized coffee-table books stacked in uneven towers, and candles clustered in groups that painted the glass walls with flickers of gold, it all helped to bring in that homely feel Iloved. Our home was virtually a masterpiece of our unique and independent lives colliding, and it was warm and beautiful.
Now, with the scent of fresh pine drifting from the twelve-foot tree, the house looked like something out of a holiday spread in Architectural Digest. Thousands of tiny white lights glowed across its branches, multiplying into hundreds more reflecting in the tall windows, as if the house had captured a constellation and kept it for itself and us to get lost in.
This was why I loved our home, not because it screamed wealth, but because it felt alive. It had carried the sounds of our girls racing down the stairs in their pajamas, the late-night arguments Jim and I had over work calls, and the quiet reconciliations of early mornings with amazing sex. It was our fortress, our refuge, and now, apparently, the battlefield for this ridiculous holiday war Jim had started, all because his ego was damn near impossible to keep in check.
“The tree always looks so pretty in the corner, don’t you think, girls?” I said, still captivated by the beauty I was looking at. “I love how it’s surrounded by the windows that reflect everything. It’s almost magical.”
No answer.
Of course, they’d already vanished to their rooms, bracing for another night of homework. Addy would be holding back curse words, while Izzy would be thrilled that she had another fun project.
“Who’s going to help me put ornaments on the tree?” I called, hoping to bail them out and keep the mood light and cheery tonight.
“Who’s going to do my homework for me?” Addy shot back, marching down the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder, already headed to her homework office of doom and gloom. “That’s therealquestion.”
“Why don’t we wait until the weekend, after Dad gets back from Madrid, to decorate the tree?” I asked. “For now, I’ll be here to help with homework if you call for it. Until then, I’m going to go over more of the cool stuff Cat sent for me to bring into my party plans for Dad’s company.”
“C’mon, Mom. Can you at least give us a hint about what you’re planning?” Addy asked, flashing the first pre-homework smile I’d seen in ages.
“Nice try. You joined Team Dad, and I’m not revealing a thing to be reported back to him,” I said with a grin. “That cute little fake smile isn’t fooling me either. I’m not saying a word about what I’m planning.”
“That’s why Dad says you’re a cheater,” Izzy chimed in, full of sass.
“Excuse me?” I responded. “How is it cheating if I don’t give away my secrets for you guys to copy or top for your party?”
“We wouldnevercopy you, Mom,” Addy said. “We already know our idea’s better.”
