shrieked. “Did you see the looks on the childrens’ faces? Did you hear the way everyone gasped and oohed and aaahed!? That’s the return on the investment, and it’s priceless. You’re a part of these people’s families...their traditions.”
A rebuttal was rapidly forming on my tongue before I had a chance to stop and remember...I didn’t have time for this, and it was an even bigger waste of my energy than the display itself was.
“Look, I don’t know what to tell you, lady.”
“Lady!?” she narrowed her eyes.
“We paid you for a positive feature. Now you write the damn thing. I don’t care how you do it or what precious morals you have to set aside to make it happen. But I don’t have time to debate this with you.”
“Do you hate Christmas?” she asked suddenly.
“Excuse me?”
“Christmas. Is that what all of this is about? You hate Christmas, don’t you?”
I could see a tidal wave of disbelief and horror building up inside of her, as if anyone who didn’t love Christmas as much as her was a travesty to humanity.
“It’s not my favorite. No,” I answered lightly, bracing myself for the inevitable explosion to follow.
But surprisingly, with only a minor twitch of her eye, she let out a deep breath and stated calmly, “Well, it’s settled then. I have to make you love Christmas.”
“Come again?”
“You heard me. It’s an interesting predicament we’ve found ourselves in, but the trouble is...not only can I not lie to my readers, but I cannot stand the thought of the annual display being tossed aside just because you don’t understand the meaning behind it. I have to teach you about what Christmas is...what it really means. I feel an obligation to do it before letting the annual display just go to ruins at your hands, and it’s the only way I can bring myself to finish this article.”
I blinked several times, wondering if this woman was in fact certifiably insane.
“Correction. I have finished the article,” she added. “But it’s not pretty. I’d be more than happy to refund what you paid for the feature and go ahead with publishing the less than flattering piece I’ve already written. Or...we can help each other see all of this in a new light, and maybe if you come around to my way of seeing things...I can rewrite the article with a more positive spin.”
“This sounds an awful lot like blackmail.”
“Maybe it is,” she said with a cavalier shrug.
It was kind of amazing that she could be so bold and then so unapologetic about it to boot.
“You’re crazy,” I exhaled finally, raking a hand through my hair.
“And you’re an arrogant, greedy grinch,” she scowled. “But here we both are.”
I circled around from behind my desk and closed the space between us, towering above her with a defensive, scathing expression. Her nostrils flared, but she didn’t flinch. She showed no signs of backing down, or leaving me the hell alone until she got her way.
“Just how do you intend on forcing me to love Christmas?” I asked in a low, agitated grumble.
“I have a plan.”
“I don’t have time for your plan.”
“Too bad,” she scowled. “I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
The way her eyes sparked at me, mixed with the warm crackle of energy emanating between us, had me a little turned on...I had to admit. It was rare to find anyone who didn’t cower down in front of me, and even if they didn’t know to be intimidated by me right off...they quickly learned after our first disagreement.
But this fiery red head wasn’t afraid to have it out with me. Which was both insufferable and intriguing. The problem was...I knew there was no way in hell she would ever change my mind about Christmas. And she obviously didn’t know a thing about business.
“Have you considered what might happen if you can’t change my mind?” I proposed, still not moving an inch away from our closeness. “Which you won’t by the way. And you’ll be right back to where you started from.”
“But you’re obviously scared of what my current article might say, or else you would have told me to publish it by now. You didn’t even try to call it as a bluff, because you know I’ll do it,” she arched a brow. “So the real question is...Have you considered what might happen if you don’t at least let me try to do this? I have a feeling you have. Or we wouldn’t still be standing here, talking.”
Without replying, or taking