Holly Jolly

❄️ four

chapter four

     Oddly, the snow had stopped.

     I sat up, slowly, feeling the ATV lurch. We were on a service road, twisting and winding through the pines. They were taller here, forming an ancient cathedral. Blue ice clung to every pine cone and bristle.

     The road widened, steepening up a hill. It was a driveway, long and paved with stone. A sleek, modern mansion came into view: grey, clean lines, loads of glass. There was a light on in one room, the orange glow piercing through the trees.

"Get up," a gruff voice in my ear demanded.

I had no choice but to hop out of the back bed, an iron grip guiding me towards the front door.

     The house was just as impressive on the inside: thirty foot ceilings, floor to ceiling glass windows that made the woods outside like a snapshot from a card Christmas card, everything looked absolutely perfect and somehow ice cold—even the polar bear fur throws on the modular couch. There was a fireplace that looked like it'd never been lit.

Someone was making a drink by the bar: the guy was taller than me and paler, too, with white-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Handsome in a wicked way, Jack Frost Jr. seemed not to notice me or the two security guards leaving slush puddles on the living room floor.

At least, I thought so.

"Holly." Jack was picking out an ice cube for his cocktail, inspecting it like a fresh-cut diamond. Wittaker and Andri, where are your manners? This is Chandler Douglas' daughter. Bring her here and leave us, please. We have a lot of catching up to do.

"Jack." I said his name like it was an accusation. The two guards each took an arm, all but dumping me on the couches. They left, a a trail of wet footsteps on the polished floor in their wake. "When they said you were running things over here now, I thought it was joke."

Jack's lip curled into an amused smirk, eclipsed when he brought the glass to his lips. He regarded me coldly—as if he knew any other way—closing the space between us in an instant. His cologne was pungent and rich-smelling. "You're not really in a position to make fun of me, Holly. It'd be cute if it wasn't just sad."

"Let me go," I hissed, gesturing with my zip tied hands. "If Nicholas finds out, he—"

"Who's to say he doesn't already know?"

It was like I'd swallowed a rock, stomach lurching. As stupid and Whittaker and Andri were, they'd been right: I was trespassing. Jack being a slimy, pasty, spoiled little jerk was one thing, but snitching on me to my boss was another.

     "I wasn't doing anything wrong, just getting something that belonged to me."

Jack sat across from me, balancing the glass on his thigh. When he smiled, he had perfectly whitened teeth. "See that's the thing with you, Holly. Even when we were kids, you always got away with everything. You'd skate by because daddy worked for Nicholas and you had Chris to protect you."

     "Shut up," his dig about Chris touching more of a nerve than I thought.

     If Nicholas really knew I was here—assuming Jack wasn't full of crap—I was on the Kringle. Co employee Naughty List. Ever since dad died, I wasn't considered part-time anymore. Chief Reindeer Officer was my full burden to bear. There weren't a lot of ways to screw it up: don't mention Chris, don't ruin the secret of Santa, and don't wander onto FROST land.

Two out of three wasn't bad, right?

"So, let's see." There was a stack of thin folders on one of the end tables. Jack picked up the top one and waved it for emphasis. "This is a letter of intent to sue you for trespassing on private property—my team drew it up in the five minutes we've been sitting here. I'm sure shoveling reindeer shit doesn't pay much, so hopefully Nicholas will lend you the company lawyer. Unless, of course, he realizes it's cheaper to just fire you."

     Fire me? I hadn't thought about it like that. It just didn't seem like a possibility. You couldn't have Douglases without Klauses. That was ridiculous, like having hot chocolate without peppermint or something.

     Now we were at a standstill, part of me wanting to leap over the coffee table and strangle Jack until he turned even more ghostly, lack of useable hands aside. But, in all the years I'd known Jack, he wasn't a tease. If he wanted something, he got it.

     "Why am I here, really?" My wrists were starting to chafe. And, I was probably going to be late for the Christmas party. Hopefully Nick got Tinsel groomed and ready. And that was a big 'hopefully.' "If you really wanted to sue me, you would have."

"For someone raised in a barn, you're one smart snowflake, Holly." He reached into the side table drawer, taking out a letter opener. To my surprise, he used it to saw through my zip tie. As I watched the plastic gave way, something clicked.

      "...It was you," I stood, now that my hands were free. "I knew Tinsel couldn't bite his way out of his lead. You cut it, you let him out—really? All just to get me here?"

     Jack put a hand to his chest, as if insulted, mouth forming an 'O'. "Well, that is just a heinous accusation, Holly. Your stable is disgusting, I can't believe you think I'd ever set foot in there."

Jack Frost getting mud on his Ferragamo moccasins did seem highly unlikely. Someone must have done it for him.

"And the lawsuit?" I prompted, unable to suppress a snort when Jack revealed the folder was empty—not entirely, there was something there, a piece of card stock. "When most people need something from someone, they usually call them on the phone, not pretend to threaten their livelihood."

Jack waved me off. "Phone calls are so impersonal. I prefer to do business face-to-face. Maybe I'm just old fashioned."

I could think of something else I wanted to call him.

The card stock was an invitation—I knew because I'd gotten the same one a month ago. It was framed by a red ribbon, written out in a signature, swoopy black cursive recognizable by kids and retail workers all over the world: You are cordially invited to attend the annual Kringle Co. company Christmas party. RSVP to the office of Nicholas Klaus.

     "Hey, that's mine!" I grabbed it from him. "It was on my dresser at home, how did you—"

"I wouldn't bother yourself with the details, Holly," Jack drained his glass, on his feet like we'd just ended a very productive meeting. "You only have an hour to get ready, and out of—" He gestured vaguely to my coat and leggings ensemble, "—whatever this unfortunate situation is. Because, lucky for you, I'm going to be your plus one."

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