Unwrapping Holly - A Holiday Reverse Harem Romance Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1 - Holly

  2 - Holly

  3 - Holly

  4 - Holly

  5 - Brody

  6 - Holly

  7 - Holly

  8 - Holly

  9 - Holly

  10 - Holly

  11 - Donovan

  12 - Holly

  13 - Holly

  14 - Holly

  15 - Holly

  16 - Holly

  17 - Lincoln

  18 - Holly

  19 - Holly

  20 - Holly

  21 - Holly

  22 - Holly

  23 - Holly

  24 - Holly

  25 - Donovan

  26 - Holly

  27 - Holly

  28 - Holly

  29 - Holly

  30 - Brody

  31 - Holly

  32 - Holly

  33 - Holly

  34 - Holly

  35 - Holly

  36 - Lincoln

  37 - Holly

  38 - Holly

  39 - Holly

  40 - Holly

  41 - Holly

  42 - Holly

  43 - Brody

  44 - Holly

  45 - Holly

  46 - Holly

  47 - Holly

  48 - Holly

  49 - Donovan

  50 - Holly

  51 - Brody

  52 - Donovan

  53 - Lincoln

  54 - Holly

  55 - Holly

  56 - Holly

  57 - Holly

  58 - Holly

  59 - Holly

  Epilogue

  Quadruple Duty: All or Nothing

  About the Author

  ~ Unwrapping Holly ~

  A Holiday

  Reverse Harem Romance

  Krista Wolf

  Copyright © 2018 Krista Wolf

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.

  Cover image: Stock footage — story is unrelated to subject/models

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  One

  HOLLY

  “So…. I— I didn’t get it.”

  My lip quivered as I told him. It was a humbling admission, a shit end to a very shit day. But I felt better in saying it. Much better now that it was finally out.

  “Oh honey,” Malcolm said, laying his hand over mine. “That really stinks.”

  I took as much comfort as I could from my boyfriend’s touch. The promotion was mine, by every right. Among my team I had seniority, and I was certainly doing the best job. I’d even been working tons of extra hours for it, sitting at my desk late into the evening, until my ass was asleep long after I should be.

  “They gave it to Louis,” I sniffed, choking back tears. All the way here, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry. “Can you believe that? Fucking Louis…”

  Malcolm nodded sympathetically. It was all he could do — his mouth was already full of another bite of cheeseburger.

  “I—I mean, how the hell do you pick Louis, when he hasn’t even been—”

  “Holly, stop.”

  I looked up at him as Malcolm squeezed my hand. He handed me his napkin, which wasn’t exactly clean. I dabbed the corners of my eyes with it anyway, wondering if anyone else at the greasy little diner was looking at me.

  “Please, give me your keychain.”

  Keychain?

  I blinked rapidly, driving the tears away. What could he possibly want with my—

  Oh my God.

  My heart soared. My whole body started to tingle. Suddenly all that nasty business at work seemed inconsequential.

  He’s going to ask you to move in with him!

  For the first time all day, a smile cracked my lips. I reached into my bag almost reverently, pushing past my phone. The screen was still shattered of course, from when I’d dropped it earlier in the day. But none of that mattered now.

  Malcolm smiled as he took my all-too large keychain from my trembling, outstretched hand.

  “I— I want you to know this means everything to me,” I said, trying once again to keep the tears at bay. But they were tears of joy this time, so I wasn’t trying all that hard. “Especially after the day I’ve had,” I sighed. “Especially after—”

  I watched anxiously, waiting for him to bring it out — the key to his apartment. I’d been staying there three out of four nights a week, anyway. It only made sense for us to move in together.

  Thank God.

  After nearly two years of dating, of living alone in the concrete jungle of New York City, I’d finally have someone to come home to. And to think of all the rent money I’d save! Even after kicking in half with Malcolm, an offer I knew he’d take me up on because he was so frugal, I’d still be coming out ahead each month. Shit, this was even better than a raise.

  More than that though, it was a sign of big progress. The advancement of our relationship. The next logical step in—

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get that promotion Holly,” Malcolm said pityingly. “But if I’m being honest, I didn’t think you would.”

  My eyebrows knit together. It was a cold thing to say. But that was Malcolm: brutally frank about everything, to the point of unflinching honesty. I’d thought it was heartlessness at first, but later on I realized it was only his personality.

  Truth be told, I was used to it by now. Marcus approached life the same way he approached our accounting jobs: everything was all business.

  “It makes this whole thing a little… harder.”

  I watched, trance-like, as he manipulated my keychain. Instead of adding a key to it, he twisted it counter-clockwise and took one off.

  “W—What are you doing?”

  “Taking back the car,” he said simply.

  “My car?”

  My boyfriend suddenly looked uncomfortable. And he never looked uncomfortable.

  “Holly I’m sorry,” he said. “This… this isn’t working out.”

  The words didn’t register, no matter how many times my brain repeated them. I shook my head as if to clear it.

  “What isn’t working out?”

  “This,” he said, motioning casually back and forth. “Us. Our relationship.”

  The realization finally hit me — like a brick being dropped from a 90-story building. The same building we worked at together. The building where we’d met and fallen in love… or at least I thought we’d fallen in love, and—

  “It’s difficult for me to do this on a day you’re already disappointed,” he said.

  “Difficult for you?”

  He nodded, completely oblivious. “Yes. And that’s why I feel so badly. But Holly, please, search your feelings. If you do it honestly, you’ll come to the same realization I did.”

  A hard lump formed in my throat. “And what’s that?”

  Malcolm sighed gently. “This just isn’t worth it anymore.”

  Isn’t. Worth. It. Anymore.

  My heart dropped into my stomach. All of a sudden I felt sick.

  “B—But why are you taking my car?”

  “It isn’t your car,” Malcolm shrugged. “It’s a lease. A lease with my name on it.”

  “Yes, but I’ve been making the payments!”

  He nodded. “You have. And on time too. I appreciate that, but—”

  “You gave me a car for my bir
thday,” I said, slowly raising my voice, “and you gave me a payment book along with it! Don’t you remember?”

  “Of course.”

  “What kind of a boyfriend gives his girlfriend a fucking payment book?” I practically shouted. “Who the hell does that?”

  Now we did have an audience. Half the diner was staring at us, like the bloodthirsty crowd of a gladiatorial coliseum. Waiting for whatever entertainment came next. Hoping for me to slap him, or throw a drink in his face, or—

  “What do you mean this ‘isn’t working out’?” I yelled. “How long have you known? And you take me here? To the shittiest diner in all of Manhattan?”

  The waitress topping off coffee halted mid-stride. She glared at me angrily, one dirty pot clutched in each of her hands.

  “You break up with me today of all days? And now you’re taking my car?”

  “Not your car,” Malcolm repeated simply. “It’s—”

  “I KNOW WHAT IT IS!”

  A thousand different emotions went surging through me at once. Heartbreak. Rage. Remorse. Stupidity, at not having seen this coming. Embarrassment at having to do it in a room full of strangers.

  Malcolm pushed the keychain back across the table, minus my car key and remote fob. He also pushed something else: a pair of what looked like pamphlets or brochures.

  “What the hell are these?”

  “City bus schedules,” he offered helpfully. “And subway maps, for all the lines near—”

  “You brought me bus schedules?” I growled.

  “Mmm-hmmm,” he said, almost cheerfully. “And subway maps. Look, if you leave your apartment ten minutes earlier each morning, it’s real easy to just…”

  His voice droned on, but I was no longer listening. My shoulders slumped. My head hurt. I couldn’t believe any of this was actually happening.

  Malcolm laid his hand over mine again, but now I was repulsed by it. I jerked it back like I’d just gotten bitten by a snake.

  “Holly, I want you to know—”

  I leapt up and threw my napkin down on the table. The tears were coming again. There was no way to stop them this time, and I didn’t want anyone else to see.

  Especially him.

  The diner’s bathroom was just as tiny as the rest of it. I spent two minutes bawling my eyes out, another minute feeling sorry for myself, and another staring into the dirt-streaked mirror while telling myself to buck up. By the time I finished washing my face and putting drops in my eyes, I was ready to go out there and give that piece of shit a piece of my mind.

  But when I returned to my table there was just one problem with that plan: Malcolm wasn’t there.

  Son of a bitch!

  Silently I kicked myself. I really should’ve known. My boyfriend was never good at conflict; he usually dealt with problems by ducking out and skulking away.

  Like a coward.

  I grabbed my keys, which were the only thing still on the table. They felt much smaller now. Lighter and emptier. Like my life.

  I stomped past the front counter and toward the exit, wondering if my now ex-boyfriend were already on his way to repossess my car. If I knew him he probably was. Or better yet, he’d get someone else to do it. That seemed more like—

  “Miss?”

  The word came haltingly, almost meekly, as I pushed on the glass door. I turned around.

  “You still have to… well…”

  I knew the answer before even asking the question.

  “Don’t even tell me he didn’t pay.”

  The man behind the counter shrugged apologetically. “Sort of,” he said, his voice hesitant. “He, uh…”

  “Let me guess,” I offered, with a mad chuckle. “He only paid for himself?”

  “Well… yeah.”

  Fuck you Malcolm.

  I opened my bag mechanically, paying with my last twenty-dollar bill. It should’ve been a good day. I should’ve gotten a raise, a well-deserved promotion. I should be celebrating with a handsome, loving boyfriend at some beautiful restaurant uptown. One who loved me enough to move in with me after nearly two years of dating.

  Instead I was in some greasy diner, crying like a baby, paying my own bill. I’d missed the promotion, and now I didn’t even have a car anymore.

  Oh yeah, and my boyfriend had just dumped me. Right before Christmas.

  Fuck my life.

  I went to look down into my phone’s cracked screen, to see what time it was. But when I pressed the button, all I saw was the darkness of a fully-drained battery.

  Hell, fuck everything.

  I pushed on the door so hard it bounced back and nearly hit me in the chin. My eyes dropped to the big PULL sign. Just as the guy behind me said the word needlessly over my shoulder.

  It was just one of those days. The ones that kicked your ass, and kept on kicking you even after you were down.

  At least it was almost over. At least nothing else could go wrong.

  Right?

  Finally opening the door, I stomped outside… into a cold, freezing rain.

  Two

  HOLLY

  “No calls, no texts… no anything?”

  I shook my head from the other side of the couch. The coffee shop was crowded for a Thursday. This close to Christmas, in New York City? I’m surprised we got a seat at all.

  “Nothing,” I said proudly. “Two whole, beautiful Malcolmless weeks.”

  Jocelyn pursed her lips approvingly. She took another sip of her latte.

  “And you haven’t even run into him at the office?”

  “Nope. Remember, he works three floors above me. And it’s not like I saw him a lot to begin with.”

  That part was a flat-out lie, and Jocelyn knew it. I saw Malcolm all the time, as much at work as outside the office. She didn’t call me out on it, though. It was the mark of a good friend.

  “Good for you, Holly,” she smiled, raising her mug. Very carefully, I clinked mine against it. “I’m proud of you.”

  In truth I was proud of myself. I’d actually gone out of my way to avoid my ex, taking a different bank of elevators and avoiding the exit near the parking garage. Hell, it wasn’t like I had a car to park there anymore, anyway.

  A sadness crept over me at that last thought. I really missed my little hatchback.

  “So what do you think about Sunday?” I asked. “About Lincoln’s… invite?”

  “Sure sounds like a date to me,” Jocelyn grinned.

  “Really?”

  My best friend in all of Manhattan swept a stray blonde lock over one ear. “Tell me again how he asked you.”

  I relayed the story one more time. The story about how Lincoln Wallace, my first and oldest personal shopping client, had asked to meet up with me on Sunday.

  “Shopping and lunch?” Jocelyn repeated thoughtfully. “Well has he ever asked you to lunch before?”

  “He’s never even asked to go shopping before,” I said. “Come to think of it, he barely makes suggestions. He’s always just handed me his credit card and left everything to me.”

  That part was true, and it was also what I loved most about my little side business. Being a personal shopper was like getting paid to have fun. You went shopping with someone else’s money, and you got to buy things you wouldn’t normally buy yourself.

  “How’d you meet him again, anyway?”

  “I took the business over from a woman I worked with,” I said, “back when I first came to town. She was moving away and left me about a dozen clients. Lincoln Wallace was the best of them.”

  “You mean he pays the best,” Jocelyn added shrewdly.

  I sipped off the last of my foam. “Oh yeah. He’s the CEO of his own advertising firm. And he’s got four sisters and plenty of nieces and nephews. Not to mention two adorable parents back in Maine… all of whom he showers with gifts.”

  Jocelyn sighed wistfully. “Rich. Successful. Loves his family…” She squinted back at me. “And you said he was handsome, too?”

  God, is
he ever.

  “Tall, dark and gorgeous,” I nodded.

  Jocelyn stared back at me enviously. “Well shit, Holly! If he’s not trying to take you out, mind if I have a crack at him?”

  I laughed, but my laughter came out nervous. Suddenly there was a little knot in my stomach.

  Jealousy? The little voice in my head taunted. Really, Holly?

  A huge part of me did want him to be asking me out. If for no other reason than to feel wanted again — to feel desired in ways I hadn’t felt in almost two years. The fact that it was someone like Lincoln Wallace only made it ten times better.

  But if he wasn’t asking me out…

  “Holly? Earth to Holly?”

  I snapped back, just in time to avoid spilling my coffee all over my own leg. It sloshed dangerously close to the lip of the mug, causing me to overcompensate and almost drop it entirely.

  “Easy,” Jocelyn chuckled, laying her hands over mine. “He’s all yours, honey. I was only kidding.”

  She handed me a napkin, which I accepted gratefully. At the rate things were going, I might need a towel.

  “And to answer your question, yes,” she added, “I do think he’s asking you out. Just look at yourself. You’re beautiful and amazing, and now you’re single to boot. He’d be a fool not to take a crack at you.”

  I blushed, even though it was just the two of us. “Thanks.”

  When it came to friends, Jocelyn was one of the better ones. Cute, funny, level-headed… and tough. New York tough. The kind of tough I learned all about when I moved out here two years ago, from my sheltered little town in Southern Texas.

  “Treat it like a date,” Jocelyn advised. “You haven’t had one in a really long time. A good one, anyway.”

  “You don’t think that would be unprofessional?”

  “Do you really care?” Jocelyn smirked.

  I thought about it for a second. “I care about losing him as a client.”

  She waved me away dismissively with one hand. “Shop with him. Flirt with him. Enjoy yourself for a change. If he flirts back, you know the drill. And if not?” She shrugged. “He’s gay.”

  I laughed so hard I almost spit my coffee. “He’s not gay!”