Page 38 of What Happens This Christmas
Maybe I needed more champagne.
Then, as if he instinctively knew what I needed, Nick slipped one arm around my waist and passed me another glass of champagne with the other.
“Thank you,” I silently mouthed at him since the women were still talking, expecting me to be listening. I still wasn’t, just as I hadn’t been from the mention of a newcomer’s name, someone who was unfortunate enough to marry a millionaireamong us. Apparently, he’d given her the wedding of her dreams, but she should have only known that was where the dreams would end.
With Nick providing me the perfect excuse to politely step away, I turned to the women as a lull fell upon the small circle we’d formed. “If you’ll excuse me.” I spoke softly, calmly. My gaze fell to Nick, who was standing far closer to me than I’d first realized.
He shifted his arm, his hand finding the small of my back immediately, as if we were magnetized, and he led me away.
“You look bored,” he noted, his pleasure at the observation obvious.
I wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction. “You’re wrong.”
We stepped through a threshold lined with holly and ivy, and the music that was being played by the string quartet changed, the sounds of the season distinct. My ears found the violist as he plucked the strings on one of my favorite instruments.
“Do you want to sit down and enjoy the music?” he asked, gesturing to the white sofa Irina had brought in for the event. Usually, she had a bit more earthy style, but for her annual party, she removed all of her usual furnishings and leaned into a white palette.
I sat on the edge, my ankles crossed as I wrapped my hands firmly around the glass. Nick did his own thing, of course, leaning back and extending a hand to my back, absentmindedly rubbing it. I didn’t believe for a second that it was for anything more than show. How could it have been?
Then again, this was the same man who took off his wedding band without nary a concern for what people might’ve thought.
Oh, well. Thinking about it any further would have been pointless and way too tedious for our setting.
“Would you like me to ask them to play your favorite score?” he asked in a low volume against my ear.
I shook my head and placed a hand on his knee. “No, thank you, darling. I’m enjoying the music just fine.”
Nick didn’t say another word, and I busied myself taking in the scene around me.
As always, Irina truly outdid herself, accounting for everything and then some. I’d caught numerous slacked jaws, gasps, and hands flying to people’s chests. It was exactly what Irina was going for—to be the talk of our group.
Irina’s place was certainly notable, being in a new-construction tower, a top-floor unit with interior design from a Paris-based designer. Most things were accented with gold leaf, Venetian plaster, and mosaic tile. She’d had it featured, sprawled across the pages of an infamous architectural publication when she had first moved in. Since then, she’d been aiming for a holiday feature, covering how she transformed the place into a dreamy winter wonderland for the season.
“Nick Crane, how are you doing, man?”
The question had me blinking and twisting my neck to see who was acknowledging my husband.
Nick’s hand fell from my back as he got up, readying himself to greet Reddington Lyons. Reddington was currently at the helm of Lyons Enterprises, and every bit the cutthroat businessman you’d assume him to be. I’d even read that he had lied to a potential investor about being engaged solely for the purpose of roping said investor into putting money into his company. I would bet he hadn’t planned on that becoming public knowledge. Much like Nick, though, he had no scruples about his decisions and hadn’t apologized. He was one of the few people Nick had no qualms with, stating on numerous occasions that Reddington hadbrass ones and tells people how it is. I supposed that was one way of doing business.
I stood up, a smile crossing my lips as I greeted him with a chaste kiss on the cheek as was proper. “How are you doing, Reddington? We haven’t seen you around yet this season.”
Reddington’s brown eyes were fixed on mine as I backed up. “I promised my fiancée that I wouldn’t make her endure too many of these events.”
I nodded as Nick replied, laughing. “I understand all too well.”
“I take it that’s why you sent your RSVP as ‘no’ to our party this year?” I asked, scanning the crowded room. “I suppose I can forgive you if it’s for your lovely fiancée. Where is she, anyway?”
Theshein question was Jade Logan. Jade was the secret daughter of Regina Morelli, founder ofBellissima, a world-renowned fashion publication with headquarters in the city. Unfortunately, Regina had never recognized or claimed Jade as her own when she had been alive, so it wasn’t until after her passing that Jade discovered the truth that she was a Morelli with four half sisters. The papers wouldn’t stop dishing on it for weeks, acting like they had uncovered missing crown jewels or something.
I’d met Jade on one other occasion, and she seemed like a sweet girl. I actually felt sorry for her. She reminded me of myself eons ago, before I’d learned the harsh truths of the life that came with being with a man like Nick or Reddington. Honestly, I would never hope for someone to go through what I had, but it made no difference, because in our world, it was inevitable.
Casually joining us, Jade smiled and leaned in for a hug. “Apologies,” Jade said, tucking loose strands of short brown hair behind her ear as she backed up. “Good to see you again, Candy. Nick.”
Her ears must’ve been ringing.
My husband nodded.
“Lovely to see you, Jade,” I said, acknowledging her.
