Page 91 of Not My Little Drummer Boy
Oscar smiles, polite but razor-keen. “Good to see you enjoying the festivities, Rachel.”
Teddy’s fingers brush the small of my back, a feather-light question:still with me?I want to lean into him—show this powerful, terrifying man I won’t be cowed—but the partner vote looms like verdict day.
Chapter 33
Rachel’sfingerstightenaroundmine, knuckles whitening against the velvet-green of her dress. I’ve seen her blitz through pressure before, but even with the paps on our tail, her pulse never hammered hard enough for me to feel it in her palm.
She steps toward Oscar Cavendish—senior partner, corporate shark, certified Christmas buzzkill—and tilts her chin in a way that sayscourt is now in session.
“Evening, Oscar,” she begins, voice clear over the sound of ‘Fairytale of New York’. “Before you start judging my private life, let’s get one thing straight—”
Oscar’s brows shoot up. I can’t decide which hits harder: the nerve in her tone or the explosion of pride detonating under my ribs.
“I’m not buying Miranda’s threats—clients stampeding the minute they learn who I’m dating? Please. If my life outside work causes tremors, maybe I’m more valuable than anyone admits. You know I’m a damn good lawyer. You know I’ll make a damn good partner. But this—” she slides her fingers more firmly betweenmine, chin high—“this is non-negotiable. If the firm wants to push me out because it thinks my private life will scare off clients, then I guess I’ll take my skills to one that doesn’t buy into that bullshit.”
For a beat, the only sound is Kirsty MacColl slurring about scumbags and maggots across the speakers.
Oscar blinks, irritation tightening then smoothing. “Miranda said that?” His tone edges from baffled to annoyed. “She’s hardly in a position to issue ultimatums on behalf of the partnership.” He straightens his tie, composure slotting back into place. “Quite right. You’re a very good lawyer. They’ll look at chargeables and results, not your plus-one.” He shoots a pointed glance towards the press in the roped-off foyer, already calculating. “And if the tabloids want a love-story backdrop, let them. Free marketing.”
She lets out a breath, and her whole frame softens. I feel relief in the slackening of her fingers around mine, and the steadier thud of my heart.
Oscar shakes my hand. “Pleasure, Teddy—huge fan. But I’d better rescue my wife.” Across the floor, a silver-sequin tornado shimmies to ‘Step Into Christmas’, crooking a finger at him, her grin deliciously lopsided.
“See you tomorrow, Rachel. And for the record—next Monday’s vote? I’m backing you.”
He strides off, leaving the atmosphere buoyant, like someone just lifted the stage lights.
“That deserves bubbles,” Bianca laughs, pressing a champagne flute into Rachel’s hand. “Girl power.” She clinks a glass against Rachel’s. “Honestly, it was worth being here just to see that. Far more exciting than a record release. Don’t tell my brother I saidso, will you?” She winks at me. “And Rachel, get my number from Teddy. I think you and I could be great friends.”
She slips into the crowd, chandeliers glinting off her sequins. Around us, the party thumps on, oblivious to the five-minute soap opera in its midst.
Rachel turns, her hand tightening on my sleeve.
“I’m sorry, Teddy.” Her blue eyes search for a forgiveness I’d already given her in my head.
“For what? You just offered to tear that corporate peacock a new one. Pure gold.”
She shakes her head. “For picking the firm over you. Getting cold feet.”
I shrug. “Can’t blame you—tabloid circus in week one, cameras up our noses. I’d throw a blanket over you if I could, but the spotlight’s part of the package. And then those jerks you work for wading into the middle of it…it’s been rough.” I catch her hands in mine.
“Rachel, I’m a bloke with a drum kit, a dodgy reputation, and a redemption list only half-ticked. You’ve spent a decade building your career—anyone would think twice about getting into this. Us.”
Her smile wobbles. “Butyoudidn’t.”
“Because the biggest risk isn’t trying,” I whisper. “It’s waking up one day knowing I walked away from the only woman who ever made me want to finish that list in the first place. I’m not gambling—I’m choosing the life I’ll fight for, every day, until each box is ticked and the man you deserve is staring back at you.”
Rachel draws in a shaky breath, hope flickering in her eyes, and squeezes my hands.
“Then let’s start ticking.” She releases my hands, flicks open her phone, and pulls up a notes app. “Items threeand four—take me to a band event as your girlfriendandcancel plans with another woman for me—tick, tick.” She grins and pretends to tap the screen.
The phone disappears into her bag; she steps closer, fingertips resting over my heart. “Next item,” she whispers, “hold on to me like you mean forever.”
I do. I gather her in, kiss her slow and certain, and the noise of the bar falls away. The paparazzi can chase us. The journos can write whatever crap they want in the papers. Right here, right now, the only story that matters is the one she lets me write against her lips.
When we finally part, breathless and smiling, the list isn’t shorter, but finishing it shines with possibility.
“You came!” Haley barrels up to us with Liv in tow. She hugs Rachel, then levels a finger at me. “Break her heart, drummer boy, and I’m coming for you.”
