A Granted Wish

Author

A GRANTED WISH

LILY MICHAELS

A Granted Wish

ISBN # 978-1-913186-42-5

©Copyright Lily Michaels 2019

Cover Art by Claire Siemaszkiewicz ©Copyright November 2019

Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

Pride Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

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The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2019 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.

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Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this stripped book.

A workplace romance can melt the heart of a real estate mogul Scrooge.

Over the three years Adam Meade has worked for Grant Alexander, his crush has steadily grown, until the annual holiday party, where he finally musters the courage—both actual and a touch of the liquid variety—to dare push their professional relationship in a vastly different direction. A tentative kiss ignites a blazing inferno and begins a stream of steamy hook-ups that the men soon recognize may extend into something much more than just physical.

However, nothing worth keeping is easy, and Adam will need a hefty dose of trust to avoid falling into the trap a scheming co-worker has created to destroy their new bond and allow him to salvage the Christmas of his dreams.

Dedication

To my double A team who make me smile, cry and get through the bad days.

To Meka for challenging me to write a short story during the midst of a massive bout of writer’s block that culminated in this creation.

To Marit, MJ and Hannah for all the hand-holding, obsessive reading and patience they show. You guys are awesome beyond words.

To all the RChat girls who have helped me grow and learn. None of this could be possible without this amazing group of writers.

And to Evie for being my person, my rock, something bigger than a bestie and always making me strive for better with tough love, tons of encouragement and lots of little b’s.

Trademark Acknowledgements

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Oscar: The Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences

Scrooge: Charles Dickens

The Nutcracker: E.T.A. Hoffman, Pyotr Llych Tchaikovsky, Marius Petipa, Lev Ivanov

Jeep: FCA US LLC

Nissan Sentra: Nissan Jidosha Kabushiki Kaisha Corporation

Cheerios: General Mills IP Holdings II LLC

The Cheshire Cat: Lewis Carroll, Disney Enterprises Inc.

The Grinch: Dr. Seuss Enterprises LP

Chapter One

Grant

The amber liquid cascaded over the ice cubes like a delicious honeyed waterfall. The glass was too big and the frozen water too minimal, but the blessed soothing burn as the whiskey hit the back of my throat was exactly what the doctor ordered—or it would be as soon as the numbing effects of the alcohol set in

From the opposite side of the thick oak door, laughter, music and clinking stemware were making my head throb even more than the low-grade ache I usually managed throughout the holiday season. And by managed, I meant self-medicated with liberal amounts of alcohol any waking hours when I wasn’t pretending I had my shit together and keeping the company running like a well-oiled machine. Tonight I had barely started, and I was only on my first drink. With the amount of appetizers I’d pilfered from the table and brought into my office with me, it would take at least four more to get to the place of forgetting that I strived to find.

I lifted the glass to my mouth and drained it in one long, fiery gulp. I’d been getting through this for the past eight years. What were three more depressing, alcohol-filled weeks?

On the second try, I stood without incident and crossed the room for my second drink. I was grateful the knock on the door came after I’d safely recapped the decanter and returned it to the shelf.

I dropped my head back and groaned. Hadn’t these people learned by now that after I gave my Oscar-worthy performance of holiday cheer to kick off the party each year, I just wanted to be left alone in my office to embark on an epic solo bender and sleep it off on the brown leather couch I’d become well acquainted with over the years?

Drawing in a deep breath, I schooled my features to look as professional possible, despite the assault of memories contorting my psyche. Come in.

A head full of sandy blond, just-a-little-too-long hair poked around the side. Aren’t you coming out, boss?

Adam fucking Meade. Every year the man failed to get it through his head that the office Christmas party was a gift to my staff for working their asses off for me all year and helping my bank account tick up to a number high enough that I could continue to mentally flip off my parents each time I drove past their house. Being an outcast gay son was much easier to handle since my income surpassed that of my highly successful attorney father…times five.

I was happy to provide all the alcohol and revelry they had earned, as long as they left my depressed, drunk self secluded in my dark sanctuary. They all respected that, except for Adam. If his overly competent abilities to manage my schedule both personally and professionally, as well as the million other details I didn’t even know he handled, hadn’t turned him into the single most important person in my life, he would be fired for this.

Or fired for occupying far too many of my dirty thoughts outside of work. Because that was a line I refused to cross. Not even the piercing emerald gaze boring holes through me or the full lips drawn into an adorable pout could make me give in to my pleading dick, already straining against the zipper of my gray slacks. No, Adam. Nothing has changed. Just like last year and the one before, I’m not going to join in the party. But do have fun. You’ve certainly earned it.

I threw my head back and chugged more of the liquid lava, hoping the