Page 6 of The Naughty Or Nice Clause

“How can you not have a Christmas tree?” she panted. There wasn’t a single Christmas decoration through the house.

“I’m sick of Christmas. The whole city, even my office window, is infected with the sight of that giant tree. This is one place Christmas can’t corrupt,” he said, swaying on his feet, though it was the clearest thing he’d uttered since leaving the office. Seeing the rising flush of anger on his cheeks, Lyla instantly knew better than to ask any more questions.

“Bed?” she asked. He collided with her as he tried to slip off his shoes.

“Why? Want to join me?” A lazy smile lit up his features.

She couldn’t help but smirk at the hedgehogs on his black socks.Maybe he isn’t as dead inside as he likes others to believe.

“In your dreams,” she snarked, and he laughed– a half-hearted, almost pained laugh. He straightened up a little too quickly and began to fall, making her dart forward to catch him. With his body pressed against hers, she could practically count how many hours he’d spent working out. She moved her hand from his abdomen to his chest as he swayed forward dangerously, and his hand covered hers. A shiver ran through her. She told herself it was just the chill until she glanced up at him to find his eyes searching hers.

“Have your eyes always been so amber?” he asked, leaning down towards her. She snatched her hand away as his expression told her he was thirsty for something other than water.

“Yes.” His frown told her he’d already forgotten his question. “The couch is the best we can do,” she decided, leading him towards the area with a huge TV and a plush carpet that was heaven on her bare feet. She pushed him back onto the couch. He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his head, making himself comfortable. With a glass front to the house, she considered turning on the heating, but didn’t know how or where she could turn it on. Instead she went to the kitchen and found a glass for water.

By the time she returned, he was shirtless and sprawled on his back, obviously not caring that she was there. She placed the glass on the table beside him so he wouldn’t have to go far. Not knowing where to look – and ignoring the voice in her head that told her exactly where to – she plucked a thin blanket from the armchair by the fire and threw it over him.Only someone so hateful could look so tempting. Typical – the only time I’m attracted to him, and he’s unconscious. If only his mouth didn’t have to ruin it.He always questioned her decisions, he could never trust her judgement. Even when ordering office supplies, he insisted on black pens instead of blue, because they were two percent cheaper. She loathed being micro-managed.

She looked at his lips, wondering how much damage they could truly do. Another shiver shot through her, and she hastily turned to the electric fireplace. She had no idea how to start it; her own only needed wood and a spark. There were no other blankets she could see, and she looked over his half-naked state, knowing he’d feel the cold once the drink wore off. She rocked on her heels, wondering if she should go up the stairs. The cold metal steps were a far cry from the carpet, but she found his bedroom; upstairs looked like an unloved showroom compared to the welcoming library and living space downstairs. She pulled the thick cream blanket from the end of his bed, looking around. Piles of books on finance, politics and nothing she would have considered bedtime reading littered the floor. There was a photo on the bedside table.

“One photo?” she asked herself, picking up the intricate gold frame. A family all sitting in a traditional Santa sleigh smiled up at her. On closer inspection, she spotted Klaus, who appeared to be in his early teens. Behind them, there seemed to be a Christmas festival happening.

“They might have taken him to loads of Christmas events and he got sick of them?” she wondered aloud, running her hand over the happy picture. Klaus was smiling too, something she hadn’t seen often, and certainly not like this.Come to think of it, tonight was probably the first time I’ve seen him actually smile – but that doesn’t count anyway, since it was triggered by half a bottle of whiskey and lord knows what else before I got to him.

With the blanket tucked under her arm, Lyla placed the photo back where she’d found it. His home screamed privacy, and she doubted he’d appreciate her looking at the one personal item he displayed.

Downstairs, she covered him with the heavy blanket. She thought about leaving him a note, in case he didn’t remember how he’d got home. Then again, she doubted he would want to remember any of this night. Picking up the discarded suit jacket, the gleaming envelope in his pocket caught her eye. She glanced at him; he was sleeping peacefully. Unable to stop herself, she pulled it out.

She barely had the letter out of the envelope before a hand shot out, causing her to jump out of her skin. Lyla started to apologise, only to find that Klaus was still sleeping.One day my curiosity will kill me.With a sigh of relief, she tucked the letter back in his pocket.

Standing by the door, she suddenly felt wrong leaving him. Thinking of the grief so fresh in his heart, and how he was apparently estranged from his family, she wondered if she should stay. Then she reminded herself that even drunk, he had only opened up an inch. By the morning, she would only be an intrusion she doubted he’d want to worry about.It’s better to respect his pain instead of satisfying my own need to make it better.

She decided to pretend this night had never happened, and closed the door behind her.

Chapter Four

LYLA VOWED A painful death to whoever was pounding on the door before seven. It was probably her neighbour coming to rant about her cat, Jones, being in their garden. She snuggled her pillow closer to her head, hoping to drown out the sound. It wasn’t her fault they insisted on having bird feeders;how was Jones supposed to control himself when given the perfect opportunity to play?Her neighbour usually gave up after a few minutes, but the banging continued, followed by the doorbell chiming to the tune of Jingle Bells in quick succession. She was ready to kill as she grabbed a clip to restrain her morning curls and stumbled out of bed, the champagne hangover adding to her rage.

“JONES!” she roared as her chunky ginger cat scrambled between her feet, causing her to trip. He scampered away. The banging at the door seemed to get louder the longer she delayed. She yanked on her dressing gown as Jingle Bells continued to chime.

“What in the Scrooge is wrong with you?” Lyla snapped, turning the key in the door – to see a sober and no-less-than-perfect Mr. Klaus.

For a moment she stared at him blankly, her mind scrambling to figure out why he was standing on her doorstep at the crack of dawn.This is how he thanks me for saving his drunken arse?The collar of his long coat was pulled up to protect him from the falling snow.

“Good morning, and goodbye!” She attempted to close the door in his face and leave him to freeze, but his hand gripped the frame.

Nice reflexes,she thought, then was disgusted at herself for being impressed. Her hungover mind drifted to him shirtless on the couch last night, and she was impressed for an entirely different reason.

He cleared his throat, returning her to the present moment. He was holding a phone up for her to see.

“I need my contacts,” she told him, seeing a blurry video playing.

Instead of letting her go, he thrust the phone closer.What the hell could be so important?!Lyla took the phone from him. She held it a little too close to her face, and waited for her eyes to focus.

“Watch the video, Lyla,” Klaus ordered, his voice dripping with venom. She didn’t like the way her name sounded in that tone. Usually, he referred to her as Ms Smurfit. If he left the door open any longer, she would be as blue as a Smurf. She wanted him gone; maybe reminding him of his embarrassing state yesterday would persuade him to leave.

“Aren’t you hungover? How can you be here when you could hardly stand last night?”

Klaus ignored her, and she reluctantly focused on the screen again. She watched the camera pan over what looked like the office – except the Christmas tree was on its side, surrounded by broken ornaments. The lounge was covered in tinsel and wrapping paper, with more than a few broken bottles littering the floor. She was about to argue that the damage wasn’t too bad when the video moved through to the staff kitchen, which was cloaked in smoke. As blackened walls and two firefighters came into view, she lost the ability to think.

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