Joy for the scrooge, p.1
Joy for the Scrooge, page 1
Joy for the Scrooge
________________________
Mistletoe Love Series
Cassi Hart
Published by: Cheeky Publishing LLC
First Edition
Copyright © 2023 Cassi Hart– All rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners. For any permission requests email cassi@cassihartromance.com
***
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Free Book for You
Be the first to know about new releases, join my list.
Inspired by the spirit of the season, spreading Joy to everyone in the Nick of time. Happy Holidays! Hope there’s some Mistletoe in your future!
Thank you for your support, enjoy!
Contents:
Free Book for You
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Mistletoe Love Series
Up Next…
Other Books by Cassi
Free Book
About the Author
Chapter One
Joy
“You have two weeks to pay the rent, or you’re out.”
I stare at my roommate unseeingly, my mind racing to process the most recent disaster in what has already been a terrible day. Desperation and anxiety swirl within me, but my gaze remains fixed on her, desperately seeking confirmation or some sign that I may have misheard.
She rolls her icy eyes at me when I don’t respond. “Look, you’re already a month behind. I can’t afford to just let you stay here for free. If you can’t pay your share of the rent, you’re going to have to move out.”
No, no, no. Not today. I can’t handle this today. I can feel tears begin to threaten as everything that has happened bears down on me like an oppressive weight. After waking up late and realizing my phone had died during the night because I hadn’t fully plugged in the charger, so my alarm didn’t go off, I had to skip my shower and morning coffee to rush to work. And I was still late. Turns out, it didn’t matter that I was late, because, as soon as I’d arrived, my boss informed me that I was being laid off from the daycare. I knew things were slow and enrollment was down, but I hadn’t realized they were that bad. As the most recent hire, I was the first to be let go.
I’d only worked there for a few weeks! I was drowning in student loan debt, and I hadn’t been able to make both my loan payment and pay rent. My landlord and roommate, Kim, assured me that she could give me some time to catch up, but it looks like she has changed her mind.
We’ve been roommates for a little over two years, sharing this rundown two-bedroom apartment in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city, but I wouldn’t consider us friends. Still, I never imagined she’d do something like this.
“Kim, I just got home, and I really need to get some rest,” I say carefully, eyes on my bedroom door as I start for it, hoping to put off this conversation until I can figure out what to do, but I don’t get far before she grabs my wrist, her eyes hardening when they meet mine.
“Joy, do you have the rent money or not?” she asks, tightening the grip she has on me.
I shake my head, trying to pull my wrist from her hold, but it’s too tight, and the venomous way she’s staring at me has me shrinking. I am not good at confrontations, and she knows this. This is why it’s been easy for her to push me into doing whatever she wants for the past two years that I’ve lived here.
“Kim, I-I just lost my job,” I whisper, a shudder breaking through when her face hardens further. “But I’ll get the money, I promise. I just need some time to find a new job. And I’ll still get my last paycheck from the daycare—”
She cuts me off with a scoff. “You didn’t make enough taking care of those snot-faucets to cover your share of the rent with a full paycheck, let alone whatever they owe you for the past few days.” Her eyes narrow on me thoughtfully. “Though, I can think of a way for you to earn your share and then some. Solve all our problems, actually.”
“What?” I ask, a chill running down my spine at the way she is looking at me.
Kim walks in a circle around me, nodding to herself. “Yes, I think it could work. You don’t look like much to me, but plenty of men love the wide-eyed innocent look. And with those big brown eyes, you’ve got the Bambi thing going for you.”
“W-what are you talking about?”
Kim flicks my braid with a finger as she moves around me. “It would be better if you were a blond, but I suppose there is nothing to be done about it.”
I pull my braid over my shoulder, clutching my dark brown locks protectively. I’ve always liked my hair color. I may not have the gorgeous blond hair and blue eyes that Kim does, but I like my hair. It’s the same color my mom’s was, and every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of her.
Kim continues without waiting for a response from me. “Alright. I’ll build your profile for you. Lord knows what you would put on there.”
“Profile? Kim, what are you talking about?”
“The service, silly,” she responds condescendingly. “I’m going to create you an escort profile. Surely, someone will hire you for a couple of nights. You’ll have to pay the commission, but even still, you should earn enough to cover what you owe me.”
Realization washes over me like a bucket of ice water. Kim works as an escort for an online service. Anyone would assume she is rich by looking at her. Nearly every night, she eats dinner at some of the nicest restaurants in the city, and most of her wardrobe is designer brands, gifts from some of her regular clients.
“Kim, I can’t do that. I’m a teacher, not an escort!” I cry. I don’t care how Kim makes her money, but I can’t do . . . that. While her clients officially hire her to accompany them to dinner or various events, I know that, unofficially, she provides them with, what she calls, “off book services.”
Waving her hand, Kim bats away my words like she would an annoying fly. “Of course, you can. You don’t really have a choice, do you? You no longer have a job. So, it’s this . . . or pack your bags.”
I swallow hard and watch as she walks over to the worn kitchen table and opens her laptop, typing quickly. “Ugh,” she groans after a minute. “Why don’t you have any good photos on social media? All of your pictures make you look like Mary Poppins.”
I shrink back when she lifts her eyes to me. “They’ll have to do for now. If no one answers your ad by morning, we’ll take some new ones. You can borrow a couple of the outfits I was planning to throw away.”
Before I can respond, Kim’s computer dings, and she looks away. “Huh. That was fast. Someone wants to hire you.”
If I weren’t so shocked, I’d be annoyed by her clear surprise that anyone would be interested in spending time with me, let alone paying for the privilege. I watch as Kim’s eyes suddenly go wide, and she gasps.
“Holy shit!” she cries.
“What? What is it?”
“Someone wants to pay you sixty thousand dollars to spend this weekend with them at their estate.”
“An entire weekend? I can’t do that!” I protest.
Kim looks at me, her gaze cold. “You are doing it. You need the money, and besides, I’ve already accepted their offer.” Her computer dings again. “And they just paid the deposit,” she adds.
“Why did you do that?” I cry. “Why did you take their money without asking me first!”
“No way. Do you know what a big deal this is? No one gets offers like this their first time out,” she says, a bitter edge to her voice.
“Give them back their money and cancel!”
“I can’t. It’s too late. I already transferred the money into my account. I’ll take out what you owe me for rent and a commission for helping you set up your profile, then I’ll give you the rest.”
I sigh heavily, though I really just want to cry. This day could not get any worse. “How much of it is left?” Really, I’m asking how much I’ll have to pay this mystery person back when I tell them myself they’ll have to find another girl.
“The deposit was for a third of the full amount. Minus what you owed me and the site’s commission, there’s about six—”
“Six grand!” I whisper, horrified. That means I need to somehow come up with four thousand dollars. Where am I going to get that kind of money?
“No, six hundred is what’s left.” Kim shrugs nonchalantly. “You’ll have enough to buy yourself some decent clothes for the weekend.”
Silence descends in the room, and not for the first time this evening, I question my sanity. Am I dreaming? This can’t really be happening. What did I do in a past life t o deserve this?
And how in the world did Kim decide that I owed her almost twenty thousand dollars? That’s more than my rent for an entire year! I’m about to ask her just that when she speaks again.
“Look, Joy,” she starts, her voice much softer, “I know you don’t want to do this, but I really think it will be good for you. The money you owed me aside, think how fast you could pay off your student loans with this job. Do you really think you’re in any position to say no?”
“Why would someone pay sixty thousand dollars to spend a weekend with me?” I ask, almost to myself.
“I told you. You look like Bambi personified. You’re the poster girl for innocent virgin. Some guys are really into that, and it’s not easy to find.”
“Will I be expected to . . . you know?”
Kim laughs at me in the way people do when a child has said something silly. “Honey, the man isn’t paying sixty thousand dollars to spend a weekend with you playing Checkers. Of course, no one can force you to do anything beyond the terms of the service’s escort contract. It’s up to you how you want to play this, but I can almost guarantee that you’ll be in for a generous tip at the end of the weekend if you make yourself . . . accommodating.”
I hug my arms and shake my head. Call me outdated, but I am still a romantic. I’ve always pictured sharing my first time with a man I was actually in love with. Not once in all my daydreams did I imagine sharing that part of myself with a stranger. And for money! I can’t even begin to imagine it.
“I can’t do it,” I whisper, shaking my head, hating the idea the more I think about it.
“You don’t have a choice!”
My eyes well up with tears as my new reality takes root. After losing my job this afternoon, all I wanted was to curl up in bed with my favorite book and pretend this entire day had been nothing more than a bad dream.
Now I have to spend my evening preparing to spend the weekend in an unfamiliar house and possibly sleep with a stranger for money. I don’t even know his name, but a man willing to spend forty grand on a whim is surely not someone to be messed with.
“Hey,” Kim whispers, her voice soft as she winds an arm around my shoulders, “think of this as a once in a lifetime opportunity. Maybe the guy will like you and ask for your services again. Think of all the money you can milk out of him. You won’t need to work at any dirty little daycares anymore.”
“But I loved working at the daycare.”
“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. “With the money this guy is paying, you could start your own daycare, and I can finally move out of this stinky little apartment. Now let’s figure out what you can wear. I have several outfits I was going to toss out that I can sell to you instead.”
My head is numb as I let her drag me to her room where she starts to pull clothes from her closet. Some of the things she tosses on her bed still have tags on them.
“You should wear this when you go to meet him,” Kim says excitedly, lifting a small red dress that looks at least two sizes too small for me.
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” I ask, resigned to my fate.
Kim chuckles, running her eyes over my long skirt and sweater. “Please, your clothes are so boring. It’s one thing to look innocent, it’s another to look like somebody’s elderly grandmother. No one would want to fuck you looking like that.”
Right.
I sigh, combing my fingers into my hair as I watch my roommate dig through the clothes on the bed with excitement. This is one of the few times I have witnessed genuine happiness in her eyes, and the fact that she doesn’t seem one bit worried about what it’s costing me terrifies me.
I walk to the window and stare out. It’s snowing heavily tonight. I bet the park is packed with people skating on the ice and families holding their little ones as they whirl around in the cool wind. I want that too. I’d been looking forward to it all year, hoping I’d be able to spare enough money for new ice skates. I guess if this weekend is a success, I’ll be able to buy them easily. All I have to do is spend three days and two nights keeping a stranger happy, and on Christmas, no less.
“What if he doesn’t like what he sees and asks for a refund?” I ask, part of me hoping that’ll be the case. No man that contracts companionship, and at such an expense, would want someone that looks like me. I’m not ugly; I don’t think I am, anyway, but I am not Kim either. She is a willowy blond beauty with bright blue eyes that seem to attract every man’s attention when we go out. People tend to overlook the awkward, freckled brunette standing next to her. I don’t mind the attention, or lack thereof, but this could prove to be a problem when I meet this stranger.
“Maybe you should go—” I start.
“Oh, trust me, I would jump on the opportunity, and not just for the money.” A phone is thrust in my face, and I blink at the bright screen. It takes me a second to make sense of what I am staring at, and when I do, all the air gets sucked from my lungs. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to do a hottie like this!”
A hottie?
No, that is no way to describe the dark-haired Greek god seated behind a huge executive office table with his eyes fixed firmly on the computer in front of him. He seems so focused on what he’s doing and oblivious to the fact that someone is taking a photo of him. I grab the phone, running my eyes over every little detail I can discern about the man. Kim huffs at me, clearly annoyed, but goes back to sorting through the clothes on her bed.
Even more shocking than the scary perfection of the man is the reaction his mere picture has on me. My pulse thrums erratically as a warm heat settles in my stomach, and more than anything, I long for the man to look up, so I can see his eyes. I bet they are as intense as the rest of him.
“Are you sure—”
“He could be a catfish,” Kim says, snatching her phone away. “A man that hot doesn’t need to pay for sex. My guess is someone took a photo of him and is posing as this guy, but who cares? With the money we are getting when all this is over, what he looks like doesn’t matter.”
“B-but—”
“I can’t say the same thing for you,” she says, grabbing my chin and yanking my face up to meet her eyes. “We’ll need to hide those ugly freckles and make it so he doesn’t turn you away the moment he sees you.”
I swallow deeply and nod, hating myself a little for it, but what choice do I have? Our argument today has already taken everything out of me, and I just want this day to be over with. I’ll just do what I have to for the weekend, and when I come back, I will take my share of the money and move out of this apartment. Kim and I never have to see each other again.
“Fine, let’s do this.”
“Yes! I’ve always wanted to give you a makeover!” She jumps excitedly, oblivious to the toll this is taking on my psyche. “Once I am through with you, you are going to look just like me!”
That’s what I am afraid of.
Chapter Two
Nick
It’s snowing heavily tonight.
Snowflakes fall relentlessly as I drive, mocking my indifference to the holiday season. The houses, adorned with lights, seem like a desperate attempt to brighten the one fucking season I cannot stand. What is so special about Christmas anyway? For as long as I can remember, the holiday never held any form of meaning for my family. My father, as did his father before him, spent every holiday at the office, building an empire, and I intend to do things the same way.
With only one difference.
I don’t have a wife and son waiting at home in a cold room, occasionally glancing at the clock and wondering if their husband and father will return to share Christmas dinner before finally giving up and going to bed.
I shake my head, as if to be rid of the memories that plague my thoughts every year during this cursed season. A mix of annoyance and impatience settles in as I navigate the wintry landscape, counting the minutes until I arrive at my office.
Half my mind is on the snowy road, and the rest is on the contracts I need to go over before signing them. I have a lot of work that needs to be done, and while most of it doesn’t have to be attended to until after New Year’s Day, I have every intention of getting it done before this year ends.
