All I Want For Christmas is You( Man Who Knows What He Wants, 218) Read online

  Contents

  All I Want For Christmas is You

  NEWSLETTER

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  NEWSLETTER

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS

  LAIRDS & LADIES

  RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD

  IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS

  Collaborations

  About the Author

  All I Want For Christmas is You

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 218

  FLORA FERRARI

  Copyright © 2020 by Flora Ferrari

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  All I Want For Christmas is You

  AVERY

  A company takeover, the day before Christmas Eve.

  It’s like those horror stories on the news when everyone’s suddenly out of work for the holidays.

  Merry Freaking Christmas.

  But Jack Cole’s a different kind of man. A different kind of boss.

  And once I see his personal memo to us all, I know what I want for Christmas.

  It runs something like: I’ll be the turkey and he can be the stuffing.

  I’m really not like that, but there’s something about the man, even on a screen that just does something to me.

  Like an older guy like him could or ever would even go for a younger, thicker girl like me.

  Within minutes of finally meeting the man in the flesh, I’m past worrying about my day job or even my rent.

  I’m suddenly reaching for that turkey baster.

  Wondering if Christmas miracles really do happen and if I might be about to have the first Christmas where I’m not alone.

  JACK

  I wouldn’t say I’m a Grinch, but Christmas though?

  Really?

  I’m too busy for any of that. Money never takes a holiday and neither do I.

  Acquiring a new company the day before Christmas Eve probably is a little unorthodox too.

  Nobody’s cheering. The board’s not and the new employee’s probably aren’t either.

  The last thing people want to hear at Christmas is their statewide show is now national.

  Most people know that usually means most of them will be losing their jobs too.

  But I’m not like that. I want this company to be different. And I’ll make my way over there personally and explain things.

  Put everyone’s mind at ease.

  Once I see her though. Once I actually get close enough to see it’s not my imagination, I need a different plan.

  I need her, for starters.

  As mine.

  For Christmas.

  Forever.

  Maybe this whole Christmas thing isn’t so bad after all?

  *All I Want For Christmas is You is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  Chapter One

  Avery

  All of us in the office are nervous. It’s not the first time a statewide company’s been taken over by a big business recently, and none of us really expect to keep our jobs.

  “And it always happens right around Christmas,” someone murmurs as we leave the cafeteria, the only place big enough for the district manager to address all employees of the takeover, which is effective immediately.

  “As for what happens now,” he announced with a grim look, “I can’t really say. But I’d advise we prepare for the worst.”

  I was about to put up the tree in one of the ground floor windows. A Christmas tradition I’m told the office has, putting it up a day before Christmas Eve, not in October like everyone seems to want to.

  A tradition started by the original company founder in 1888, back when it was the biggest office building in the area.

  “Hardly seems worth it now,” I muse out loud, wondering if maybe I should pack up my desk instead. Gulping as I realize I have no savings either.

  This is my first job since college, practically earning me just enough to live hand to mouth each week as a basic secretary and dog’s body to a boss who has me do everything she couldn’t or doesn’t want to.

  The last insurance office to be taken over in the city was emptied within the hour of being bought. The look on everyone’s faces says it all.

  As we try to focus on getting some actual work done before the end of the day, the district manager comes onto our floor again, beaming a smile that grabs our attention.

  Holding up a sheaf of papers, he begs us to check our work emails.

  “Take a look, people. I think you’ll be happy to know we may just have a future here after all.”

  The new president of the company has sent everyone a memo, apparently. Personalized with our own names on each one and featuring a large picture of himself by way of introduction.

  Corny by any other standard, but skimming the first few lines I breathe a sigh of relief, sinking back into my chair and making a strange sound that makes three cubicle’s worth of co-workers pop their heads over.

  “You alright?” someone asks, raising their brow and wincing as my chair creaks.

  The message is fine, but it’s the messenger that has me weak in the knees.

  The man is a god.

  Most employees can be overheard gasping with relief, the certainty that we’ll all retain our jobs and that the new leadership has no plans to cut any staff or service.

  The next guy over calls his wife, letting her know the rumors weren’t true. That he still has a job.

  What rumors?

  Me? I’m feeling like that confident mouth of his, on that chiseled jaw has leapt right out of my screen and down between my legs, which I feel myself starting to squeeze together as I get lost in his eyes.

  Dark, powerful eyes that have authority, intellect, and kindness. The kind of eyes that also ask more questions than they let out answers from.

  His huge shoulders fill a tailored suit, and his lean face tells me he does more than just look after himself.

  I shiver another breath, trying to collect myself.

  How can the sight of just one man, a total stranger reduce me to this?

  I’ve never even… Well. Let’s just say I’m not one to touch myself apart from washi
ng and trimming the hedges, but the sight of this man has me wanting to do more than just touch myself.

  Gnawing my lip, I consider a quick or maybe even extended bathroom break. But I know it’s useless.

  I don’t want my own clumsy efforts. I want the man himself, down there.

  Those strong, expert hands I just know he has to have, to match the rest of his body and that brooding look.

  His rich, deep voice, promising me and commanding me at the same time as he draws my pleasure from me, rasping my name, ‘Avery… Avery…’

  His styled, full head of hair with just a hint of silver at the sides between my fingers, brushing against my thighs right before he-

  “Avery! Jesus, are you deaf? Thought you’d stroked out. Been standing here for like twenty seconds calling your name.”

  My boss, Angela Fitzner.

  Not someone I’d miss if they did fire a few middle managers. Far from it.

  She’s a weasel of a woman, not even a real woman. Ninety percent plastic, I’d say by the looks. Not that I’d wanna get close enough to find out.

  She’s all hair and chest, with troweled on makeup, an orange spray tan glow, and what must be a corset underneath.

  It’s the only way anyone could have that Malibu Barbie look without ever going out in the sun.

  I can’t see the attraction, but every guy in the building falls over himself when she’s around. I’m pretty sure it’s how she got her job in the first place.

  She leans into my cubicle just enough to make me recoil from that god awful fragrance she dips herself in as well.

  “Management got a memo of their own, Avery. Your job is safe… for now, but there’s nothing to stop me from recommending you get the slip if you don’t start pulling your weight around here,” she hisses. Making sure nobody else can hear her.

  I look down at my desk, thinking how maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad being fired. At least I wouldn’t have her on my case every day.

  But I need this job, and I can’t blow it by saying the wrong thing or scratching her dead plastic eyes out either.

  Much as I’d like to.

  “Mr. Jack Cole is set to make an appearance here himself any day now, any time. So how ‘bout you haul some of that ass you have so much of and put up that fuckin’ tree, huh? Make the place a little more festive.” She orders me.

  “Uh… Ms. Fitzner?” Somebody asks her from behind, and in an instant, her whole demeanor changes, back to the little butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth princess act she uses around everyone.

  Everyone except me.

  “Which hole do you want that tree put up?” I murmur under my breath, not thinking she caught it.

  “What did you say?” she challenges me, spinning around.

  “I said, I’ll go and put the tree up, right now, Ms. Fitzner,” I tell her, screwing my face up when she finally turns hers away from me.

  Jack Cole, eh?

  Now I have a name to the face, at least. The words are a blur in his email.

  All I can see is a god-like man come down to earth.

  Maybe one I should practice screaming into my pillow for. Never hurts to have some sort of rehearsal for the real thing.

  Somehow, I don’t even know how, I think Jack Cole and I are going to get on just swell.

  If I ever get to meet him.

  Chapter Two

  Jack

  “Well I don’t care, David. I’ve given my own word and put up my stake in the company that I can turn it around and I will… I’m going down there myself to meet everyone. To meet the people who pay our salaries with their hard work.”

  I slam the phone down, wishing it was on his head.

  Damned board. Entitled, sniveling little-

  “Mr. Cole? Your car’s waiting, Sir.”

  “Oh, okay thanks,” I murmur, never remembering his name, but probably because of that look this secretary always gives me. The one I get again as I watch the elevator doors close.

  Like I’m wearing nothing but donuts and he hasn’t eaten for a week, what the hell is wrong with people?

  I’ve been at the helm twenty years, and we’ve underwritten plenty of insurers then gone on to take over running them.

  But I like to do things differently, a little old fashioned. I like to keep everyone on and take it all to the next level. Kids these days wanna slice and dice anything, flip it in six months just to make a billion, and try to snatch a slice for themselves.

  Not old Jack Cole, they don’t call me The Wizard for nothing.

  “Uh, just here is fine thanks, I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  The driver gives me an uncertain look like he’ll be fired if he doesn’t drop me right out front instead of down a couple of streets.

  Yes, I can actually walk a few blocks all by myself, thank you!

  “Just be careful of the ice, Sir. That’s all,” he remarks, lowering his window and keeping the car crawling after me until I take a side street.

  It is cold, and the ground is frozen but it is Christmas.

  Burying my hands in my coat pockets, I pass the crowds and storefronts, almost losing my way until I feel something that makes me look up.

  I remember the name of the building and make my way across the street, but there’s something else once I get there.

  More of a feeling as I get closer.

  The feeling of my new baby? A new company that I can watch bloom, something I can-

  Holy-!

  The large window of said building that I’m passing has what looks like a tree dancing in it.

  I turn to look, moving a step back out of reflex. What the hell would a tree be doing-

  Oh. Christmas.

  But it’s not the tree, it’s whose under it that catches my eye, giving me an instant report on that feeling I’ve had getting closer.

  It’s her.

  Whoever she is, she’s fucking perfect.

  Her ass is, anyway. It’s the first thing I can see under all that Fir tree as it shifts about amongst it, in time with her own body’s movements as she struggles to keep it upright.

  I hear a low groan, feeling my own thickness starting to stiffen like a tree trunk, and realize it’s me.

  I feel someone next to me, some woman and her small child, laughing. Pointing.

  Laughing at my angel.

  “The hell’s wrong with you?” I bark at the pair of them. “You never seen a damned tree before?”

  The woman reels back in horror, gripping her kid by the wrist as she drags him away.

  I turn my eyes back, feeling a stab of panic. A tightening in my chest and a dry croak from my mouth.

  She’s gone.

  My angel’s disappeared.

  Pressing my hands to the thick glass, I peer in, trying to see past the tree, grinding my jaw as my heart sinks.

  Typical.

  This is why I keep so busy, I tried looking for love all those years ago. Never worked. She just wasn’t there. Not even real.

  Oh, I’ve had glimpses of her, whoever she is… the one. But like today, she’s just a phantom. Probably my imagination.

  My wishful thinking.

  And just when I think it was my mind playing tricks, she’s back again.

  Her full figure squeezing through the tiny doorway to the glass display, a step ladder in her hands as she looks up at the tree, determination in her clear blue eyes.

  Her blond hair coming out of her bun, strands of it dance around her oval face and she puffs them away as she sets the ladder straight and takes a step to climb up.

  She’s young. Probably half my age, but I don’t care about that. There’s something about her. All of her that I need to get closer to. I need to see more of her.

  Touch her.

  Inhale her.

  She stops, and I make another groaning sound as she steps down and bends over, right in front of me.

  Fishing into a box for something.

  Her thick, firm chest bunches up for me, teasing me through h
er white on white blouse.

  When she stands up again, she looks flushed, giddy. Her cheeks are full of color and as she turns away from me again, I’m sure I see a smile playing on her lips as she climbs back up the ladder.

  She’s got white slacks on too, and like her top in the bright lights of the glass display, I can make out the outline of her bra and panties.

  Lace, and highlighting the stunning beauty of her natural curves.

  They don’t make women like this anymore. And the man upstairs broke the mold once he made this angel.

  This is my one chance at something I know I’ll never have again. I have to meet her.

  I have to make her mine somehow.

  “There he is, that’s the man there,” a voice exclaims.

  I turn, feeling my back tighten, and my body tense under my coat, how many more interruptions do I have to have?

  “I’m gonna have to ask you to come with me Sir,” a deep voice says, and I spot his flat palm raised and a nightstick in his other hand.

  The uniform isn’t a cop, but he has a shiny something on his chest.

  “Security,” he announces, followed swiftly by, “Oh! Uh… Mr. Cole. I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t realize…”

  I frown, looking him up and down, and then down again at the woman and her kid.

  A laugh erupts from the back of my throat.

  I’m being ridiculous. Something just happens when people get between me and what I want.

  “I’m sorry, Miss?” I offer, fishing for my wallet. I know there’s only one quick way out of this that benefits everybody.