Red Hot Christmas (17 page)

His fake beard firmly fixed to his face with more glue than he wanted to think about, Nicolas turned to Fraser to check the full effect. “Ho, ho, ho.”

Fraser clapped and cracked into gleeful giggles, all the more adorable as he was ready to go in his elfin outfit and looked like he really might have stepped from a Christmas catalogue.
 

“Right then, we better go. Don’t forget to call me Santa, not Nicolas,” Nicolas instructed Fraser.

“Although Saint Nick works,” the assistant added.

Nicolas nodded, the irony wasn’t lost on him.
 

Fraser tugged on his bottom lip again and Nicolas blanched. The goose bumps flared. An idea flashed. “Just a minute,” he said. He couldn’t face a day full of children and their potentially nagging parents if he was distant and moody. Best to set his mind at rest. Diving into his office he pulled out an album from the bottom draw of his desk. If it weren’t for Tessa’s immaculate housekeeping it would have been dusty, but as he turned the pages the images swam up at him as if he’d looked at them yesterday.

He found the page he was searching for and everything else fell away. Sitting down heavily, Nicolas squinted closer at the photographs of himself as a young boy. Dark hair, dark grey eyes. Compared to the battered tricycle he stood beside in one picture, he seemed tall, gangly even, but he wasn’t gawky. In fact his face was thoughtful, his eyes wide above well pronounced cheek bones and warmly toned skin.
 
His lips were full, even as a child, and in one of the pictures he pulled on his bottom lip with his left hand.
 

They could have been photos of Fraser taken moments ago.

Nicolas closed the album and slid it back in the drawer without letting out his breath. A son? His son? Fraser? Somewhere, deep inside, a part of him refused to believe that Gabby could have played him. Maybe she’d gone along with his invitation to stay in his apartment because she wanted to reunite him with Fraser. Maybe she’d been seeking him out all this time, hoping to run into him, hoping to unite them as a family.
Dream on.
When he exhaled, that place of hope evaporated. Gabby Phillips had played him, and played him good.
 

Holding onto the edge of his desk, Nicolas’s knuckles turned white.
 

She’d let him believe she’d cheated on him so she could hide the fact that Fraser was his kid. Five years old. Nicolas did the math again, just to check.
Idiot. Of course he’s yours.

Now that he’d seen the photos, he was astounded he hadn’t noticed the resemblance before. Perhaps he figured all kids looked alike. They did in a way. Didn’t they? It wasn’t like he’d spent much time with children.

He hadn’t been looking for signs either. The thought that he might have a child somewhere in the world he didn’t know about had been inconceivable—the child support requests would have come thick and fast if he had.

But not from her.

He banished the flicker of optimism the thought provided. No. She hadn’t bothered coming after him for child support because she knew she’d have no chance against him if it came to a custody battle. Given his wealth and influence, and her history of debt, no judge would grant her full custody. And maybe she was right to fear what he’d do when he found out.

“No one steals from me twice,” he muttered. It had been her that set up everything with her father. Her that had vigorously talked him into it.
And you that fell for it.
Idiot. She’d taken so much from him, his money, his faith in women, and now his son.
You don’t even like children.
That wasn’t the point.
 

“Are you ready Santa?”

Nicolas shook his head to rid it of the fuzzy spots in his vision. Fraser. His son. It wasn’t the kid’s fault his mother was incapable of honesty.
 

Oh dear lord. He was about to be Santa for a whole day. Nicolas’s shoulders were so tight it felt like his muscles might actually cut off his air supply.
Fraser. Christmas. You can do this.
Realizing the child had already slipped into character and was carefully calling him Santa, Nicolas rallied. “Ho ho ho. Are we ready to go?”

Fraser beamed. “You made a rhyme. That’s cool. I’m ready to go, into the snow.”

Nicolas softened. He
could
do this. He just had to channel his inner calm, rock out a poker face and remember the profit margin he was about to increase for Able’s. Lucky the beard helped conceal his expression.

Standing, he walked out of the office, determined to be clear headed for the day. Determined to not think of Fraser as his son until he’d had time to digest the situation further. Only Fraser reached up and took his hand as they walked out the door. A little of Nicolas’s heart melted. The kid was so trusting, so open. How could he live like that when the world was so full of deceit? The wave of protectiveness that enveloped him took Nicolas by surprise and he had to clear his throat a little to loosen the lump that suddenly lodged there.

To think he’d once thought that having a kid around was a burden. A distracting noise that just got in the way of getting on with life. He looked down at Fraser again, standing waiting for the elevator. He wasn’t a burden. In fact he was enjoying the sense of fun the kid brought to everything.

Through his white cotton gloves the child’s hand was warm, too warm. “You a bit nervous?” he said to Fraser.

His son nodded.

“You’re going to be the best Santa elf ever,” said Nicolas. “Maybe the best Santa elf in the world.”

“Really?”

“Maybe. I’ll make sure and tell Santa about our day and then he’ll let me know.”

“You’re going to talk to Santa about me?” Fraser’s eyes were like saucers.

“Of course,” Nicolas smiled. “How else would he know if you’ve been naughty or nice?”

“I thought that was just the words to a song,” said Fraser and Nicolas laughed. The first proper laugh he’d had all day. Forget smart, this kid was gifted.
Probably comes from my side of the family.
 

The echo of the laughter stayed with Nicolas all the way down town, and when he walked into Able’s from the back entrance he let out a genuine “Ho ho ho,” that brought the team still titivating the grotto all out to clap.

Fraser bounced up and down on his toes in excitement, all signs of nerves gone, and Nicolas decided that this was going to be the first day for the two of them. The first day of the history they were about to build together.

Chapter Ten

“Where the heck is Santa?” Gabby flicked her focus between the pile of papers she’d been signing off all morning and her cell. The call log was empty and Santa was a no show. “He’s more than a bit late now. You’d think he might have called. He was going to come and check in so I could brief him on this week’s specials.”

      “He’s already here.”
 

Gabby looked to where one of her assistant’s pointed and did a double take. “That’s not Mr. Able.”

“He’s sick. But he arranged his own replacement.”

“Why didn’t he call me? I could have sorted it. Who is this guy? Oh man, this is a disaster. Some random with customer’s children on his knee? If the paper’s find out I’ll be toast. If Nicolas finds out—“

“Ah, I’m pretty sure he already knows.”

“What!” Gabby spun on her assistant, eyes bulging, ready formed words falling unspoken off her tongue.

“He’s Santa. Nicolas Morganti is Santa. Mr. Able rang him. Last minute. Tradition. Yadayada.”

Gabby squinted over at the fat man with a white beard. Was that really Nicolas? Maybe, if you took away the stuffing and white beard… But if that was Nicolas, where was Fraser? Her hands started to get clammy.

“Mommy!”
 

A Christmas elf bounced up to her and Gabby did a double take. “Fraser?”

He nodded, the glee obvious as his smile reached from ear to ear. “I’m helping Nicolas—I mean Santa—today and then he’s going to tell the real Santa that I’ve been real good so I can get better presents and so that Santa knows there are still some good boys in the world, not just naughty ones that don’t do their homework or brush their teeth.”

“Really?” If Fraser hadn’t looked so serious, Gabby would have fallen about laughing. God the kid had a great imagination.

“Yep.” He beckoned her down and she crouched so he could whisper in her ear. “Nicolas isn’t the real Santa. But I’m calling him Santa so other people don’t find out. Santa’s real busy. Don’t worry,” he patted her shoulder in a very grown up manner. “I don’t think anyone’s going to notice. He makes quite a good Santa. He’s a bit skinny, but they’re putting an extra pillow on his tummy. I think it will all work out okay.”

It was Gabby’s turn to nod and she kept her face as serious as she could manage to match Fraser’s earnest expression.
 
“Well we’ll make sure you’re all set up then. Better not let on to anyone that you know the secret about Santa.” Nicolas as Secret Santa, that was a good one. He hardly had a knack for spreading joy.

“Oh no. I’m good at secrets.” Fraser flashed another grin then looked around as if to check that no one was listening. “I’m a secret elf too. Don’t tell.”

“Promise,” said Gabby her wry thoughts of Nicolas instantly diminished in the face of Fraser’s charming solemnity.
 

Fraser took her hand and started tugging her over to where Nicolas was chatting to one of her team. Gabby suddenly had a wave of dizziness, all the weeks of work were about to come to fruition—she looked at her watch—holy crap sandwich, in about two minutes. She spoke into her walkie talkie. “Standing by for opening in two minutes everyone.”

“Fraser baby,” Gabby, looked down at her son. “You know Santa will be able to cope by himself. You won’t need to help all day.”

Fraser shrugged. “I’ll just help as long as he needs me,” he said.
 

What did I do to deserve such a wonderful boy?
 

“Good idea. Then we can hang out together for a bit.”

Fraser smiled again and his adult demeanor slipped. “Maybe we could go for ice-cream.”

What the hell, it was almost Christmas. “Sure, baby.” Gabby struggled to concentrate as the full heat of Nicolas Morganti’s eyes swung onto her.
 

“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” He snarled.

“Look, I’m very sorry, I had no idea Mr. Able would call you.
 
I mean, I know how he feels about tradition but he was so keen to do this one last time. It’s just for the opening day, we…”

“I’m not talking about that.” Obviously aware of Fraser looking up at the two of them, Nicolas changed his dark tone. “We’ll speak later.”

Clearly he still thought she was the thief and some new piece of evidence was going to “prove” her guilt.
 

He cut into her thoughts. “Are you good to go Elfin Mcready?”

“Elfin Mcready?”

“It’s my elf name,” Fraser stage whispered. “We made it up in the car coming here. In case someone from school comes today.”

If he didn’t look like he wanted to maim her, Gabby would have laughed at the thought of Nicolas making up elfin names while dressed as the Christmas fat man.

“Are we ready for doors?” An assistant appeared at her elbow and Gabby shoved aside all thought of Nicolas and his veiled comments. “If you’d like to go inside Santa.” She indicated with her arm. To Fraser she said, “I’ll come and get you in quarter of an hour or so baby, don’t worry.”

“Quarter of an hour? That’s not very long.” Fraser’s voice turned winey.

“We’ll see how it’s going. Now scoot. Both of you. Inside.” Once Fraser had followed Nicolas inside the grotto she nodded to everyone assembled and spoke into her walkie talkie again. “Let’s go. Cue music, reindeer handler, Christmas elves, and fairy welcomers. Merry Christmas.”

The noise of the crowd began as soon as the doors were opened and the group of children who’d dragged their parents downtown to be first in to see Santa, stumbled in from the cold.
 

Gabby began her checks in the foyer area. She should have gone straight inside the grotto, but she couldn’t face being in a confined area with Nicolas. Not yet. After she’d satisfied herself that the fairies and floor staff were doing their best to both promote the various sales in Able’s stores, and to channel people towards Santa, Gabby turned back to the grotto.

“It’s your job,” she reminded herself. Still, she went through the exit area, just to check on the reindeer before she had to go into the ice cave where Santa held court. Absently patting the head of one of the reindeer Gabby listened to the chatter coming through the wall from the ice room.

“So what do you want for Christmas?”

It was muffled by the fabric draping, wood and scaffolding, but Gabby could make out Nicolas’s voice in faux Santa fullness. As if drawn to a magnet she walked closer to the wall.

“Your mommy told you to ask for that did she? Well maybe she was just playing games with you….No I think a pink bicycle with sparkle tassel handlebars sounds great. But I think I might look a bit silly on one. And my reindeer might get jealous.”

He was great. Gabby let go of the knot of tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying since it turned out Mr. Able wasn’t this year’s Santa. While it was hardly her fault that the old man was too sick to show, she figured Nicolas would have found a way to blame her.