Christmas Pet

“You’ll have to wait. Now, you’d better get out of my office before I throw you over my knee and spank you for everyone to see.”

“Yes, sir.” She spun around and marched away. When she was out of earshot, I picked up the phone and dialed my favorite jeweler.

After the New Year, she wasn’t going anywhere. I wanted her to remain in my life as my pet, and to do that, I needed to give her something to show I intended her to remain mine.

***

During the fundraising event, I lost count of how much bourbon I’d knocked back. Lyla wouldn’t let me out of her sight. All night, she’d clung onto my arm. Everyone congratulated us on getting back together. When I explained we were friends, and I was only there to support the foundation, she brushed me off with a girlish giggle.

Thankfully, the night was over, and I could now go home.

Our limo pulled up to the curb. I opened the door for Lyla, but when I turned around to allow her to get in, she stood on her tiptoes, curled a hand around my neck, clamped her lips on mine, and shoved her tongue into my mouth. For a few stunned moments, I couldn’t move.

I broke away and held her wrists by her side. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Lyla?”

“I’m claiming what’s mine.” She swayed back and forth in her heels. Obviously, she’d had more to drink than I had. “I’ve got a surprise for you at my house. A playroom room, especially for you.”

I stared at her like she’d lost her mind, and perhaps she had. What I was about to say wouldn’t be enjoyable for either of us. “I’ve already made it clear on several occasions. We’re not a couple. You’re not the right woman for me. You’re not submissive. I can’t give you what you want, and you can’t give me what I want.” Furious, I stepped into the backseat of the limo. Lyla stumbled in after me. “Don’t say that. We’re the perfect couple. We could take the New York scene by storm.”

The desperation in her voice almost made me feel sorry for her. “I don’t want to take the New York scene by storm. I don’t want my life splashed all over Instagram or Facebook. On paper, we might be a power couple, but in reality, we’re not.” I sighed and softened, my anger fading. “Lyla, you’re a wonderful person, or could be if you didn’t act like a spoiled bitch all the time. But this pursuit of me has to stop. I’ve met someone.”

Her nose wrinkled. “You’re not seriously telling me that the ditzy associate at the firm is the someone.”

“She’s not ditzy.”

She recoiled as if I’d hit her. “I’ll make you sorry. No one dumps me. I dump them.”

“Then consider me dumped.”

I opened the passenger door and stepped out into the frosty night. “For both of our sakes, move on.” I closed the door, tapped the roof, and the car drove off.

Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind.Chapter Twenty - PearlChristmas morning had always been my favorite morning of the year.

Sure, I was twenty-seven years old, but Christmas morning always made me feel like a kid again.

The smell of bacon drifted upstairs and the sound of my mom clattering around the kitchen brought a smile to my face. Waking up at home was a tradition I vowed I would always keep. No matter what, I would spend Christmas with her. One day, when I had a family, I would make sure my husband understood we had to spend the holidays at my mom’s house in Brooklyn.

Perhaps that husband would be James.

I hadn’t spoken to him since I left the office yesterday. Knowing him, after the fundraiser, he went back to work and was probably asleep at his desk.

I had invited him to spend today at my mom’s, but he’d declined. I think the reason he said no was because there would be way too many people around. After Christmas dinner, all of our neighbors and extended family stopped by with desserts, and the party would go on until the wee hours. It wasn’t for the faint-hearted.

Yesterday, when he said he was going to the fundraiser and didn’t need me to go, I felt sad and rejected, but I was being ridiculous and insecure. In a way, his not wanting me to go with him was a relief. A week of partying had left me pooped. Eight hours of sleep in my childhood bed was exactly what the doctor had ordered.

I stretched my arms above my head and checked my phone, but there was nothing from James. I had expected a good morning text wishing me a Merry Christmas.

I rolled out of bed, and, feeling giddy, I ran downstairs. Like always, a stocking with my name on it sat on the bottom step. My mom came out of the kitchen, holding a spatula, and placed a kiss on my cheek.