Page 21 of Santa Daddies
Embarrassed by the attention, I grabbed a silly elf hat with pointed ears and popped it on my head. “Are you sure I don’t look like an elf that’s trying too hard?”
“No way in hell do you look anything but ravishing. Even that hat can’t take away from your striking appearance. Although it does add a certain adorableness to it.”
The saleslady disappeared and reappeared seconds later holding a gorgeous emerald-green silk garter and bustier corset with white feathery trim. “This is from the new inventory section — never been worn. I carry a line of brand-new lingerie so we’re a one-stop shop.”
“Oh my god, Emily, feel this. It’s so soft.”
“I’ll throw in the elf hat and the shoes if you get the dress and corset set, post a pic of you wearing the dress to instagram and tag the store.”
“Deal,” Kayla said and pulled out her credit card. “Merry Christmas, Emily.”
I tried to argue that it was too much, but she shot me down. And as we left the store, she hooked her arm with mine and pulled me to her.
“If Santa Daddy could see you in that getup, he’d make you his head elf in less than ten seconds. And by head elf, I mean Mrs. Claus.”
I laughed. “You’re good for my ego, Kayla.”
A week later, I had my face almost pressed against the car window as I was driving up the long road toward the chalet.
“Oh, my God, I knew it would be amazing, but the pictures of the place don’t do it justice. And these mountains.”
“They’re certainly breathtaking,” the driver replied.
“So breathtaking,” I gushed.
“This is the main chalet,” the driver said, pointing at the huge building with a triangle peaked wall of reflective windows giving me a view of the mountains behind us too. On either side of the peaked windows there were two huge stone columns with large sconces that flickered like fire in the evening light. Smoke billowed up from a chimney which was made from the same gray river stone as the columns.
The driver turned down a road that branched off the main road. A sign warned people that it was a private roadway. The road was banked with thick conifer forests. But the driveway that appeared a short way down the road was neatly lined with fir trees, their bows covered with snow. Lights made to look like old lanterns lit the roadway, giving us a view of the forest, which thinned after a few minutes, giving both a protective feel as well as one of openness. The tall tree trunks were well spaced, theirtops providing a private canopy while below felt as if it were a secret hideaway.
“This is Mr. Larson’s private chalet,” the driver announced as we pulled into the circular drive and parked in front of a smaller version of the main chalet, with the same peaked roof and full floor-to-ceiling windows, banked by stone pillars.
“You’re the first to arrive this evening, but you’ll find a board at the door with a map of the house, with your room labelled. There’s already champagne chilling in the kitchen as well as some light snacks. But if you need anything else, there are intercom panels throughout which are connected to every main room in the house as well as one to Daniel.”
“Daniel?”
“Yes, he’s Mr. Larson’s personal concierge, and can be rung at any time day or night.”
My brows rose.
“There is a solarium at the back of the house with a gym, sauna, both a cold-plunge tub and a hot tub, as well as a large, heated pool. You’ll find a juice bar, self-manned of course, which you are also welcome to use. There are private hot tubs located on your room balconies, but should you fancy a group soak, you’ll find a large hot pool outside. Leave through the solarium and take the left pathway. Daniel has already lit the outdoor fireplaces.”
“Is Mr. Larson secretly Batman?” I whispered and the driver chuckled.
“No, he’s richer, of Scandinavian descent, and…” Another chuckle. “Better-looking.”
I laughed but also felt a little flushed. Mr. Larson sure would be a catch and I couldn’t wait to tell Kayla. I even FaceTimed her so she could take the grand tour with me.
After exploring the main floor with the state of the art kitchen, which had the most delicious looking charcuterie boardand champagne in ice buckets set up on the massive breakfast bar counter, the great room with the river stone fireplace that three people could comfortably stand inside if it weren’t already crackling, and the library, I found my room.
“I have so many regrets, Emily,” Kayla said through the phone speaker as I showed her the door to my room.
The door, eight feet tall and made of polished maple, had a name plate on it, which instantly soured my stomach. In beautiful cursive it read,Miss Emily Miller & Mr. Jett Phillips.
Both Kayla and I were staring at it when a tall lanky man walked up. “Excuse me, Miss Miller. I’m Daniel.”
“Hello Daniel,” I said, and he gave me a smile. I turned the phone to him. “This is Kayla.” Kayla waved and Daniel bowed a little.
“Apologies miss, but this just arrived.” He held up a name plate before sliding the other out of the slot and replacing it with the new one. The new one read,Miss Emily Miller.
