Page 21 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell
I set my book down, folded my hands, and gave him the kind of look that has killed men in battle. “You truly don’t see it, do you? You saw on Thanksgiving that even our children understand that the galas and gifts aren’t forus,they’re for those who will actually benefit from them. They’re for the people who can’t have or experience the things we easily can and do.”
“I truly don’t see how any of that has anything to do with what our daughter did,” he said honestly, running a hand through his hair like he was the wounded party. “I think everyone’s making a bigger deal than it is.”
“That’s the problem, Jim. The Christmas gala always lifts everyone’s spirits and boosts company morale. The bonuses matter even more. They pay employees’ bills, support charities, buy kids toys, and sometimes, they just keep the lights on. And you? You decided, becauseI like charcuterie, that the entire company would, too?”
“Yeah,” he said, confident but still confused.
“Well, congratulations. You’re officially the Martha Stewart of terrible Christmas decisions. You’re the chef’s kiss of canceling the one holiday most people look forward to, and for everything you’renotgiving them.”
His jaw clenched. “Are you finished lecturing me on how to run my company?”
“Oh, you did not just say that shit to me.” I flung the covers off and stomped toward him. “Don’t you dare CEO-voice me in this bedroom. Not when you just gave out the Jelly of the Month Club disguised as Christmas cheer.”
“My God, why is everyone treating me like I’m Clark Griswold’s boss?” He rubbed his temple. “That guy handed out jelly subscriptions to his people. My people got champagne and cheese.”
“Correction,” I jabbed a finger into his chest. “Your people got less than jelly. At leastFrank Shirleygave his employees something that lasted for the whole year, andhewasn’t even a damn billionaire.Yougave everyone indigestion and one bottle of champagne to fight over or, at best, sell if they needed the money instead.”
“Right. Because Mr. Shirley gave the gift that keeps on giving?” he muttered, dry as a desert. “You don’t need to say it. Jacob informed me already tonight.”
“And Jake’s right,” I answered. “And lucky you, Mr. Scrooge CEO, you sentyour insultout five weeks early. Which means you have time to fix it. Mr. Shirley screwed his employees on Christmas Eve.”
“I honestly don’t have time for this shit, Av. I have no planners in place, no patience, and zero bandwidth for Christmas drama.”
“Perfect. Because I’ve already hired Cat Velez.”
His head shot up. “You what? Who?”
“Yep.” I shoved the pillow into his chest. “She’s the Luxury Event Architect extraordinaire, and she’s about to plan the most beautiful, extravagant Christmas celebration in company history. Now, you, my loving husband, will smile and look grateful while she salvages your reputation.”
“Where am I sleeping?”
“Tonight? Not in this bed. Go warm up the guest room. Maybe the couch. Maybe the doghouse.”
He smirked, leaning in. “I love you.”
I slid back into bed, lifted my book, and muttered, “I love you too, James, but I don’t like your Scrooge-ass right now. And, you know what, if I were still a single-mom employee, I’d have marched straight into your office and chewed your ass out for this slap in the face. Money means nothing to a man who has everything, but it means everything to almost everyone else.” I stopped and shook my head. “I mean, come on, man. Inthiseconomy, are you kidding me? Acharcuterie board can go fuck itself.”
He sighed, deflated. “Fine, okay. I get it. Bonuses are back. And the gala.”
I peeked over my book. “Perhaps I’ll tell Cat that I want to call this the Winter Extravaganza. I don’t want those who don’t celebrate Christmas to feel excluded. This is about employee appreciation, and I wanteveryonein attendance to understand that this company depends on their efforts throughout the year.”
“That’s fine, but she doesn’t need to go all out, though?—”
“Oh, don’t even try to put restrictions on this,” I arched my eyebrow at him. “Besides, Cat Veléz doesn’t know the meaning of halfway. She’s already planning light shows, imported snow, and a gospel choir that will make angels jealous. Trees flown in from Aspen, and Santa and his gifts for the kids will be at a separate celebratory location for them.” I smiled sweetly, “Oh, and another thing. I told her to use the company’s private jetsto bring over folks from the London office if they’re able to close down their offices and attend. They’ll love celebrating with the CEO who almost canceled Christmas.”
“The jets? Those are booked up for paying passengers who want to fly privately when we aren’t using them. The Christmas season is when outside clients use them most. Avery?—”
“Good night.” I flipped the page. “Pray you don’t get a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Past. God knows,hedoesn’t play.”
Jim groaned, dragged himself out of the room, and I tucked back into my book, watching him go. Pathetic, deflated, and very much the husband I adored…even if his Scrooge-ass needed a Christmas miracle.
NINE
Jim
I curled around Avery,pulling my wife closer to my chest, letting her warm body relax me after the latest whirlwind of bullshit I’d somehow landed myself in. Maybe I should’ve stayed in the guest room for the night and tried to sort through it all, but Avery and I had a rule never to go to bed angry or sleep apart. So even when she tried to insist that I’d be sleeping somewhere else, we both knew that was never going to happen.
Even though I wasn’t actually banned from the master suite—or worse, from sleeping with her in my arms—it didn’t mean that I’d fully given in to her side of the argument.
