His First Christmas: The Lonely Billionaire - A Heart-Warming Romance Novel Read Online Free
Author: Holly Rayner, Lara Hunter
because of the way the CEO had treated her. No, that can’t be the only reason why I’m mad. There has to be something else that is irking me…
“So…” nudged Penelope, “how did our esteemed CEO find your presentation? Did you get that approval?”
Anna took a long sip of her beer. “Ugh, I don’t even want to talk about it. I always thought you guys were exaggerating about what a curmudgeon he was, but yeesh. It was pretty painful interacting with him.”
“Aw, I’m sorry he didn’t approve it,” Jane said sympathetically. “But you can be proud that you got further than most people!”
“Oh right, well I did get it approved, actually,” Anna clarified. “He was just an asshole about it,” she said.
“Wait, so you actually got it approved?” Victor exclaimed. “That…never happens,” he said.
The rest of the team nodded fervently. “You did good, Anna, you should be proud of yourself,” Kirk said.
Anna’s mood wasn’t much improved by the news that she, out of everyone who had tried, had been the first to coax an approval out of the CEO’s cold heart. “It’s not as if we’re asking him to donate a kidney or something,” she muttered. “And, also, what is with him taking two weeks off while we’re expected to work practically right up until Christmas day?!” she raged on. It was uncharacteristic of her to be so angry, but apparently Jason Hawthorne’s miserly attitude had pushed just the right buttons in her.
Victor smirked. “Hey, one day, when you climb the ranks and become a magnate, you, too, can make your underlings work during the holidays while you go get wasted on a yacht somewhere.”
Anna sighed, shaking her head. The coworkers sipped their drinks quietly.
“Anna, don’t be so upset, okay?” Penelope said. “Jason is an asshole to literally everybody, don’t take it personally.”
“So he gets an asshole pass while the rest of us have to act like decent, respectable people?” Anna grumbled.
“The asshole pass is granted to all rich people, not just Jason Hawthorne, young grasshopper,” Victor joked.
Anna was going to protest, but she sensed that she was reaching her coworkers’ complaint threshold. “Alright, alright, I’ll drop it,” she said. Switching to a more cheery tone, she asked, “So I’ll see you all at the dinner, right?”
“You bet’cha,” Penelope said, and the others nodded.
On her bus ride home—Anna never drove on Wednesdays—she dissected her mood. The resentment had somewhat cleared and left room for objectivity. It’s not just that he was rude… she thought, racking her brains. Suddenly, a light bulb clicked on. Oh my God. What’s bugging me is his total lack of regard for the holidays, she realized. So, apparently, I have this primal defense of Christmas within me. Like a momma bear with her cubs. I’m the momma bear, and the cubs are the holiday spirit. She started giggling at the absurdity of it, inciting a few raised eyebrows from the surrounding bundled-up passengers.
Makes sense, given my history…
***
“Mommy, how come you and Daddy never pretended that Santa exists?” an eight-year-old Anna asked, swinging her legs as she sat at the dinner table while her mother heated up some soup. In one hand, she clutched a disintegrating rag doll that was almost as old as her.
Smelling food, the family dog Bayou came shuffling in. He rested his head on Anna’s lap, biding his time before he could begin scrambling for leftovers.
Her mother, Jenny, turned away from the stove, bouncing Anna’s one-year-old sister, Cathy, on her hip. She’d gotten home from her shift at the factory an hour ago, and her whole being seemed to sag with exhaustion. Anna couldn’t recall a time in her early years that her mother didn’t have bags under her eyes.
“Oh…” her mother said, caught off-guard by the question. “I suppose we never had the
“So…” nudged Penelope, “how did our esteemed CEO find your presentation? Did you get that approval?”
Anna took a long sip of her beer. “Ugh, I don’t even want to talk about it. I always thought you guys were exaggerating about what a curmudgeon he was, but yeesh. It was pretty painful interacting with him.”
“Aw, I’m sorry he didn’t approve it,” Jane said sympathetically. “But you can be proud that you got further than most people!”
“Oh right, well I did get it approved, actually,” Anna clarified. “He was just an asshole about it,” she said.
“Wait, so you actually got it approved?” Victor exclaimed. “That…never happens,” he said.
The rest of the team nodded fervently. “You did good, Anna, you should be proud of yourself,” Kirk said.
Anna’s mood wasn’t much improved by the news that she, out of everyone who had tried, had been the first to coax an approval out of the CEO’s cold heart. “It’s not as if we’re asking him to donate a kidney or something,” she muttered. “And, also, what is with him taking two weeks off while we’re expected to work practically right up until Christmas day?!” she raged on. It was uncharacteristic of her to be so angry, but apparently Jason Hawthorne’s miserly attitude had pushed just the right buttons in her.
Victor smirked. “Hey, one day, when you climb the ranks and become a magnate, you, too, can make your underlings work during the holidays while you go get wasted on a yacht somewhere.”
Anna sighed, shaking her head. The coworkers sipped their drinks quietly.
“Anna, don’t be so upset, okay?” Penelope said. “Jason is an asshole to literally everybody, don’t take it personally.”
“So he gets an asshole pass while the rest of us have to act like decent, respectable people?” Anna grumbled.
“The asshole pass is granted to all rich people, not just Jason Hawthorne, young grasshopper,” Victor joked.
Anna was going to protest, but she sensed that she was reaching her coworkers’ complaint threshold. “Alright, alright, I’ll drop it,” she said. Switching to a more cheery tone, she asked, “So I’ll see you all at the dinner, right?”
“You bet’cha,” Penelope said, and the others nodded.
On her bus ride home—Anna never drove on Wednesdays—she dissected her mood. The resentment had somewhat cleared and left room for objectivity. It’s not just that he was rude… she thought, racking her brains. Suddenly, a light bulb clicked on. Oh my God. What’s bugging me is his total lack of regard for the holidays, she realized. So, apparently, I have this primal defense of Christmas within me. Like a momma bear with her cubs. I’m the momma bear, and the cubs are the holiday spirit. She started giggling at the absurdity of it, inciting a few raised eyebrows from the surrounding bundled-up passengers.
Makes sense, given my history…
***
“Mommy, how come you and Daddy never pretended that Santa exists?” an eight-year-old Anna asked, swinging her legs as she sat at the dinner table while her mother heated up some soup. In one hand, she clutched a disintegrating rag doll that was almost as old as her.
Smelling food, the family dog Bayou came shuffling in. He rested his head on Anna’s lap, biding his time before he could begin scrambling for leftovers.
Her mother, Jenny, turned away from the stove, bouncing Anna’s one-year-old sister, Cathy, on her hip. She’d gotten home from her shift at the factory an hour ago, and her whole being seemed to sag with exhaustion. Anna couldn’t recall a time in her early years that her mother didn’t have bags under her eyes.
“Oh…” her mother said, caught off-guard by the question. “I suppose we never had the
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