His for the Holidays

Chapter 4: Cold

Channing

A sharp knock breaks my focus, and before I can say anything, Matt strolls into my cabin. “Hey,” he greets, leaning casually against the doorframe. “What happened to you? You said you were coming back, but you never did.” His tone is light, teasing, but his brows lift as he adds, “Who was the woman I saw leaving your room earlier? She looked familiar.”

I can not help it—a small smile forms on my lips, just a little too telling, and Matt's eyes narrow instantly, catching on. He knows me way too well. "No one," I reply, shrugging. “No one?” he repeats, crossing his arms before suddenly his eyes widen as something clicks. "Wait. I know her! She works for you, right? What’s her name—Mika or something like that, right?”

I sigh while running my hand through my hair. "Yeah, she works for me," I say, and Matt's jaw drops. “What was she doing in your cabin then?” he asks, but I quickly cut him off before he gets ahead of himself.

“Relax. She had a little too much to drink, and I found her stumbling around the ship. She was so out of it that she could not tell me where her cabin was. So, I brought her here to ensure her safety. That’s all.”

He looks at me for a moment before leaning back with a knowing grin. "Oh," he adds, dragging the word out. “For a second there, I thought you were breaking your own rule about not messing with staff.”

"I am not," I insist firmly, despite knowing better. Here’s the thing about me: I love my life. The freedom. The lack of strings. I do not believe in commitments, marriage, or anything else associated with "settling down." It’s not that I’m cynical or damaged or whatever people like to assume—it’s just not my thing. I believe in living in the moment and taking life one day at a time.

I’ve seen people tie themselves up in knots over relationships—sacrificing their dreams, their freedom, their happiness—all for what? A sense of security that isn’t even guaranteed? No, thanks. I cherish my independence.

The idea of being accountable to someone, of losing control, freaks me out. My life flows in its own rhythm, and I like it that way. No surprises. No complications, a fact that’s been my parents’ frustration throughout the years, as they want grandchildren, someone to carry the legacy and benefit from all their hard work.

But I’m just not that type of son. I appreciate the life they have carved out for me, and I hope to make them proud not only in business but also in life. But sacrificing my soul to achieve that is simply too high a price to pay.

But then there’s Mika. I sink to the edge of the bed, running my hand through my hair, frustration coursing through my veins. Mika has been a puzzle to me since she first walked into my office two years ago.

I do not want to marry her or get into a relationship with her. I would never do that, even for her. What I want to do is eat her out of her damn mind. I want to f**k her so badly I ache from lusting over her.

From the first moment I saw her, I wanted her. There is something about her that I can not shake, and I have tried.

Mika isn’t my type. She’s nothing like the women I usually go for—the ones who know exactly what they want and aren’t afraid to take it. The kind who are bold, unashamed, and... well, a little corrupt. The type of women who match my energy, who get the thrill of pushing boundaries and breaking rules. She’s different. Too different. She knows what she wants, but she’s not the type to take it.

She’s this innocent, unstained kind of woman, the type who still believes in things like morals, fairness, and love. The craziest part is she takes charge in her life—at work, in her family, and even in how she carries herself. But I can tell that’s where it stops.

Mika isn’t the kind of woman who’d pin me to the wall or suggest doing it in a car with the windows down. She’s not the kind who’d whisper something dirty in my ear while we’re out, just to make me squirm. No, she’s the decent type. The kind who’d probably want everything slow, careful, in a bed with the lights off.

That’s not my kind of woman. And yet, here I am. Many months later, still wanting her. Still thinking about her when I shouldn’t. It’s like she’s burrowed under my skin. She doesn’t belong there, but somehow, she’s taken up residence in my head, in my thoughts.

Then there’s the rule. My golden, unbreakable rule: don’t mess with the staff. Regardless of how hot, tempting, or "worth it" they appear, I have never crossed that line. Not once.

But Mika has me questioning everything. I even know things I shouldn’t know about her. Like the fact that she had been seeing that jerk. It is why I saw everything this morning. My obsessive gaze was drawn to her as soon as she entered the hall and remained there.

Matt's voice jolts me out of my lustful haze and brings me back to reality. He grins like an i***t as he shoves his phone in my face. "Check these two out," he says, swiping his thumb to zoom in on the image.

The screen shows two women in barely-there bathing suits posing poolside as if they were auditioning for a reality show. Matt gives me their names, something generic that I immediately forget, and adds, “I invited them to be our dates tonight.”

I take the phone from him, leaning back in my chair as I study the photo. They’re beautiful, no doubt about it. Tall, tanned, with the kind of confidence that comes from knowing they can turn heads with a single glance. Normally, I’d jump at an offer like this. But not tonight. I hand the phone back. “They’re gorgeous, but I already have a date for dinner.”

Matt raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. “Oh? Well, I guess I’ll have to disappoint one of them, then.” He smirks and returns his attention to his phone, most likely composing a text message to inform whoever did not make the cut.

Before I can say anything else, there is a knock on the door. My butler steps in and greets Matt. “Miss Bosi has confirmed she will be your date for the evening, sir.” I nod back. “Thank you,” and dismiss him. As the door closes, Matt gives me an amused, curious look. “Miss Bosi, huh?”

I ignore him, my thoughts returning to Mika. I trusted the butler with the gifts, the invitation, and everything.

Matt and I have been friends since we were nine, but unlike me, he is not afraid of commitment. He just got out of a relationship and is just as horny. This cruise ship is our families' joint venture. They decided to try a new line of business. It is the reason we are on this cruise. To see how the first sail goes.

I exhale slowly while running my hand through my hair. If there’s hell, I’m reserving a seat in it. But I will not make Mika do anything she does not want to do. I will not mislead her either.

However, even as I say this and attempt to justify my actions, I am aware of the truth. She is vulnerable right now. She has been hurt, betrayed, and knocked down in ways I cannot imagine. And here I am, slipping in and making moves when she is at her lowest. It is cold. Even for me. But am I going to back off?

Definitely not.

•••

Author’s POV

Wade leans against the balcony railing, staring at the endless expanse of water. The sound of waves below does little to quiet the storm in his mind.

Last night's, or rather this morning's events, play on repeat, each memory sharper than the last. What he did to Mika was cold. He knows that.

He exhales slowly and rubs the back of his neck. This cruise was supposed to be a parting gift for her. One last hurrah before he broke the news. Once they got back, he had planned to come clean, to finally tell her that their relationship wasn’t working anymore.

He did not love her, and the fact that she could not have children bothered him. He had known it for a while. But he stayed. He stayed because he needed her.

For months, Wade had been living a lie, juggling a crumbling relationship with Mika and rekindling his romance with Nina. He and Nina rekindled their relationship two months ago. She had been patient at first, but lately, she was pressuring him to end things with Mika. And Wade had meant to. But it wasn’t that simple—not with everything else going on. He couldn’t leave Mika before the case was over.

Then Nina wanted to come on the cruise. Wade tried to talk her out of it, but Nina always got her way. Suddenly, he found himself in way over his head, trying to keep both women happy and failing miserably. So, he made a choice.

He slipped something into Mika’s drink at dinner—a harmless medication, or so he was assured—that would knock her out until morning. It was the only way he could spend Christmas Eve with Nina without Mika knowing.

He hated it, but what else could he do? Nina had insisted they needed this time together, and she wasn’t wrong. She was also pregnant, and he would do anything for her.

He had already proposed to her before the cruise to show her that he was serious about leaving Mika. But Nina thought it would be more romantic, more i********:-worthy, to do it under the mistletoe. For her followers.

So she took out her ring and asked him to propose to her again, which he did. And somehow, Mika saw. Wade still doesn’t understand how it happened. The medication should have kept her out cold until the morning. That’s what he was told. But there she was, standing in the crowd, watching everything.

He closes his eyes, gripping the railing tighter. He didn’t mean for it to happen like that. But now, there’s no undoing it.

Wade's thoughts are interrupted by the buzzing of his phone, and he looks down and freezes. His eyes widen as he reads the notification. The money has been cleared. His heart pounds as relief floods through him, and he pushes off the railing and rushes inside, his voice sharp and urgent. "Nina, Babe!"

Nina emerges from the bathroom moments later, her face partially covered in a green mask and holding a bowl. “What’s going on?” she asks, startled.

“The money,” Wade says, holding up his phone. “It’s in!” Nina shrieks with excitement, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight hug. She pulls back, her face glowing with joy, and thrusts the bowl into his hands. “Here, take this.”

Wade frowns, staring down at the bowl of mask residue. “What do you want me to—”

“You need to pretend like you made it for me,” Nina interrupts, already bustling around the room. “You didn’t see me put it on earlier this morning, so you made it for me. We’re going to capture it for my followers.”

Wade blinks, about to protest, but Nina steamrolls over him. “I need to update everyone about the dinner tonight, babe. I promised them,” she says, setting up her phone on a tripod and adjusting the angle. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re coming out of the bathroom, holding the bowl, and telling me you made it for me because you didn’t see me put it on today. Got it?”

Before Wade can respond, Nina wipes the mask off her face, leaving no trace of it behind. She reclines dramatically on the sofa, a hand resting on her stomach. “Okay, I’m sick. I’m weak. You’re taking care of me. Go to the bathroom and wait for my signal.”

Wade stands there for a moment, stunned, before shaking his head and muttering under his breath. He heads into the bathroom, bowl still in hand, his frustration growing. This part of Nina’s influencer life—the constant need to perform for an audience—has always driven him crazy.

A few moments later, Nina calls, “Action!” Wade steps out of the bathroom, sits on the edge of the sofa, and begins to speak. “I made this mask for you because—”

“Stop!” Nina cuts him off, sitting up with a groan. “I’m not well, remember? That’s why you made the mask. You need to ask how I’m feeling first before you start talking about the mask. It needs to be believable, Wade, or there’s just no point.” Wade grits his teeth, feeling his patience wear thin. He tosses the bowl onto the coffee table.

“You don’t need to be doing this,” he says, standing up abruptly and snatching Nina’s phone from the tripod. Nina sits up, her face twisting in annoyance. “Don’t start, Wade. I’m third on the list of top content creators right now. I’ve worked hard for this. My fiancé owes me his support!”

Wade barely hears her and is about to put his foot down again when Nina's phone vibrates again, drawing his attention to the screen. A message appears from an unknown number.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, it turned out my friend already has a date tonight. I would love to hang out later, though—Matt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Who the f**k is Matt?"