76 Bronson

I’ve never noticed Christmas before, not since leaving my parents and teaming up with my grandfather, but suddenly, the streets of New York aren’t just busy with mashes of people, it’s littered with color and wonder, small snow specks fall onto the hood as people make their way around the SUV while holding onto gift bag after gift bag.

We make it home in record time and I take the elevator up to the penthouse, the small Tiffany's box inside my suit jacket. Rand stands beside me whistling some Christmas tune at which I shake my head and chuckle. “Your timing is impeccable.” I state and watch as he turns his head and looks at me.

“Sir?”

“I wouldn’t normally allow you to whistle some ungodly Christmas tune around me.”

“Then I should be grateful you changed your mind this year.”

“How did you know Rand?” I ask and although he turns around with an inquisitive face, I know he understands what I am asking.