My Five Santas: A Christmas Reverse Harem

Chapter Two: Delivery Drivers Contain Multitudes

Two Decembers Ago

My entire career is riding on one box of donuts.

It took ten months of twelve hour days to land this career-making client. A client who has the pick of any number of investment bankers wooing them, but after my scrupulous research and schmoozing, decided to take a big meeting with us.

A client who I promised would have the best vegan donuts in New York City.

Donuts that were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.

For the millionth time, I circle the large conference table, straightening name cards, lining up pens, and checking my phone for the several millionth time.

Still no returned call or text from the delivery guy.

I am once again typing in the delivery phone number in my phone when I hear a displeased grunt at the conference room door.

I look up to see Leonard Barker, his craggy face somehow even made craggier by the displeased crevices of his frown.

"Sir!" I say, giving my boss my overstretched Ivy League smile.

"Wilson," he snaps, "I see none of the grand Christmas dessert display you promised. Bellemont will be here any minute."

"I just checked with Bellemont's driver, sir, they're about twenty-five minutes out." I tuck my hands behind my back so he doesn't see how my fingers are shaking.

He grunts again. "You can't count on New York traffic to save your ass, Wilson."

"I'm not, sir," I say. "I'm in close contact with our supplier, they're just running a little late. They'll be here, but I do have a back up plan, just in case. I'll take care of everything, sir, you don't have to worry about a thing."

Mr. Barker glares at me, nods, then leaves.

Probably to have a pre-meeting whiskey with Jeffrey, toasting to their success. Even if all they're doing is showing up.

Shit.

Everything was going to be perfect. I'm wearing my best business suit. It's charcoal, expensive, custom-tailored, both the jacket and skirt managing to be professional and flattering. It's the suit I wear when I want to clinch a tough deal. It manages to make me feel powerful and sexy. It doesn't hurt that it makes my tits look phenomenal.

My black hair flows down my back, sleek and shiny from hours spent with a straightening iron this morning. My subtle winged cat-eye makeup is on point, both eyes even and matching for once.

I refuse to let this stupid donut debacle ruin everything.

I feel a buzz in my pocket, and I nearly drop my phone in my excitement to check the screen.

It's just Cass, my best friend.

Cassidy: Are the donuts there yet???

My fingers savagely smash my reply.

No, no, no, NO. If they don't show up soon, I'm going to get fired, and YOU will have to hand feed me Doritos for the rest of my life for recommending one of your stupid hole in the wall places.

Immediately, she texts back.

Cassidy: Psh, Barker would never fire you. If he did, just sit on his face and all will be forgiven.

Me: THIS IS NOT A LAUGHING MATTER. THIS IS SERIOUS—

"Maggie?"

I look up, mid text-rant and see Penny, my assistant, at the door. "There's some tall dude in your office that smells like sugar with a bunch of donuts—?"