A Heart Locked Away

Julian’s POV:

Christmas. The one time of year I avoided smiling or enjoying the atmosphere around me. The day reminded me too sharply of everything I’d lost. My parents were involved in a car accident that ripped my world apart. 

My grandmother, who took me in and gave me all the love she had left, only to pass on the very same day years later. 

Her last wish had been for me to give back to others, to carry on the kindness she’d shown, and I’d tried to honor that.  But despite everything, Christmas remained a season of emptiness.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound of my office door broke through my thoughts, and I looked up as Fred, my assistant, entered with his tablet in hand. I adjusted my seat, turning to face him. 

“What is it, Fred?”

“Sir, your schedule is clear for the rest of the day. I thought maybe you’d like to go out and enjoy the evening,” he said, the suggestion hanging in the air.

“Enjoy the evening?” I echoed, a faint smile on my lips. The last thing I wanted was to get caught up in the festive cheer. I’d rather bury myself in work, lose myself in tasks that didn’t remind me of this time of year. 

“No, thanks. I still have work to catch up on. You can head home, Fred.”

Fred didn’t leave. He just set his tablet down and looked at me with an expression of mild exasperation. 

“Sir, let me guess you’re planning to stay here until around 2 a.m., just so you can walk home when the streets are quiet and Christmas isn’t staring you in the face?”

A small chuckle escaped me. “You know me well, Fred.”

He shook his head, crossing his arms. “Sir, I think you should get out there and have some fun. Maybe even…go on a date.”

I blinked at him in surprise, letting out a sharp laugh. “A date? Me?” I said, shaking my head. “Come on, Fred, you can’t be serious.”

But Fred’s expression stayed steady. He wasn’t joking. “I am serious, Mr. Saint Clair. You’ve been working non-stop, keeping yourself locked up here. It’s time to let go, sir. It’s almost Christmas.”

I scoffed, giving him a dry smile. “Look, Fred, I know you mean well, but meeting someone isn’t exactly on my agenda. I’m not ready, and if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

Fred nodded, but there was a glint of something stubborn in his gaze. “Just think about it, sir. That’s all I’m saying.” He picked up his tablet and walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I stared out the window, watching the city move below me. The holiday lights blurred against the night, their glow casting reflections across the glass. Maybe Fred had a point, but that hollow ache still held firm, and I wasn’t sure anyone could fill it.

Fred hovered near my desk, a sly glint in his eye as he held the tablet close to his chest. I raised an eyebrow, catching on to his unusual excitement. 

“What now, Fred?” I asked, only half paying attention as I returned to the report in front of me.

Fred cleared his throat. “I was thinking, sir… what if you tried going on a few blind dates?”

I looked up, taken aback. “Blind dates?” I scoffed, barely hiding my distaste. “You really think I’d be interested in wasting my time on some dating app?”

Fred held up a finger, already prepared. “Not just any dating app,” he said with an almost conspiratorial grin, “but one that I’ve already set up for you. I thought it might be nice for you to have options, so I’ve arranged four dates—four blind dates before Christmas.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “Fred, you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” he replied, tapping the tablet and holding it out to me. On the screen was my profile, professionally set up, along with a list of the first four women he’d matched with, dates and times already scheduled. “Your first one’s tomorrow evening, sir. A nice dinner at the Riverton Restaurant.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Fred shrugged with a satisfied grin. “Let’s call it persistence. Besides, it’s only four dates, and if you don’t fancy any of them, well… you’ll have tried. But who knows? Maybe there’s someone on this list who could be worth your time.”

I ran a hand over my jaw, contemplating the setup. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to entertain the idea—for his sake more than mine. “Fine,” I conceded, “but if I regret this, I’m sending you on a year-long coffee run.”

Fred laughed, clapping his hands together in triumph. “Noted, sir.”

---

The next evening, I found myself at Riverton Restaurant, seated near the back where the lights were low, and the noise of the city faded into the soft hum of conversation. I was early, as I always was, glancing at my watch every thirty seconds, irritation building as each minute ticked by.

By the time she finally arrived, nearly twenty minutes late, my patience was running thin. I looked up as a tall, slim woman approached, her heels clicking against the floor.

“Julian?” she asked, smiling as she took the seat across from me. She placed her purse on the chair beside her, brushing a few stray hairs from her face and settling into her seat.

“You’re late,” I said, not bothering to hide my impatience.

“Oh… sorry,” she replied, her cheeks flushing. “I was stuck in traffic. You know how Manhattan can be.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms. “Yes, and I know how watches work as well.”

She forced a laugh, clearly trying to shake off the awkward start, but I was already disinterested. 

I nodded, letting her continue with pleasantries as I half-listened, wondering how long this date could last. 

The date couldn’t have been more exasperating. Every topic she brought up was a strain to respond to, each attempt at humor or connection landing flat.

I found myself glancing toward the waiter more often than I looked at her, hoping he’d bring the check soon. 

Finally, the bill arrived. Without hesitation, I signed the receipt and pushed my chair back, standing.

"Let me drop you off somewhere nearby," I offered, keeping my tone as neutral as I could.

She flashed me a coy smile, clearly misreading my impatience as something else. 

“Well, aren’t you a gentleman?”

I held back a sigh, steering her to my car. The ride was quiet at first—until she leaned over and rested her hand on my thigh, fingers trailing a little too close for comfort. I tensed, my eyes fixed firmly on the road.

“Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private?” she suggested, her voice dropping to a whisper.

I felt my jaw clench, my patience waning by the second. Forcing myself to stay composed, I removed her hand from my lap. 

“Um, on second thought, there’s somewhere I have to be,” I said as politely as I could manage. 

“Maybe you should take a cab from here. I’ll… call you.”

I was lying, of course. There was no way I’d be calling her. She frowned, looking disappointed but gave a small nod. 

She pulled out a business card, left it on the seat, and stepped out, but before she could turn back to say goodbye, I’d already driven off.

As soon as I was out of sight, I called Fred, barely keeping my frustration in check. He picked up, sounding a bit too cheerful for my taste.

“Fred,” I began, my voice low with irritation. “Care to explain why you set me up with a… woman like that?”

He hesitated, obviously caught off guard. “Sir, I—I didn’t know she was… like that. What happened?”

“She asked me to take her home with me, Fred. I’m not some desperate guy looking for a one-night stand.” 

I shook my head, trying to brush off the sour feeling in my chest. “If I wanted that, I’d know exactly where to go. But that’s not what I need.”

“I’m really sorry, sir. Maybe it was a mistake, but… perhaps your next date will go better?” he offered, sounding more hopeful than confident.

I sighed, already dreading the answer. “Who am I supposed to meet this time?”

Fred hesitated just a beat before answering, “You’ll be meeting Samantha Taylor tomorrow evening. She’s an artist sir.”

“Fine,” I replied, barely convinced. “But if this one goes sideways, Fred, you’re going to be scheduling all my meetings on Christmas Eve as payback.”

He chuckled nervously, sensing I was only half-joking, and hung up, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again. 

This time, though, I wondered if maybe tomorrow might not be quite as unbearable.