Page 46 of Her Holiday Arrangement
Riley stood there in a deep green cocktail dress, one of the looks Elizabeth’s stylist had carefully picked for her the day before their flight, a dress meant to impress without overshadowing Elizabeth, perfectly tailored to make her look polished and confident. It fit well, if a little too snug across the hips, and the satin shimmered when she moved. Her hair was pinned loosely back, a few strands falling soft around her cheeks. She looked nervous. And stunning.
Elizabeth forgot how to blink.
“I, uh…” Riley smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, then tugged self-consciously at the neckline. “Are we sure this is black tie? Because I feel like I look like a festive throw pillow.”
“You look beautiful,” Elizabeth said before she could stop herself. The words came out low and unpolished, too honest.
Riley blinked. “Oh. Thank you.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat, retreating behind her usual mask. “It suits you. That shade of green.”
“Your stylist has shockingly good taste for someone who wears pantsuits every day,” Riley said lightly, trying to break the tension.
Elizabeth smiled faintly and gestured for her to come in. Riley stepped inside, and Elizabeth’s eyes were drawn to her bare arms, her collarbone, the little gold clasp of her necklace catching against her skin. Dangerous territory.
Elizabeth reached for her wrap, draped carefully over a chair. As she fastened it around her shoulders, Riley stepped closer.
“Wait, your collar’s folded funny,” Riley said, reaching up.
Before Elizabeth could respond, Riley’s fingers brushed her lapel, straightening the fabric with a tender, precise touch. Her hands were warm. Their eyes met, too close.
Elizabeth felt something in her stomach shift, a slow, unwelcome roll of heat. Riley’s brow furrowed slightly, like she felt it too.
“You ready for this?” Riley asked softly.
Elizabeth glanced down at the hand still lingering near her collarbone. “I’ve done it every year since I was sixteen.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Riley said, smiling just enough to hurt.
Elizabeth stepped back. “We should go.”
They walked down the long corridor that led toward the ballroom, the estate hushed and glittering around them. Evergreen garlands wound along the banisters, lit by golden fairy lights that cast soft glows on the hardwood floors. Their heels clicked in sync, hers sharp and confident, Riley’s slightly tentative.
As they neared the landing, Elizabeth slowed, falling half a step behind so she could look, just briefly. Riley’s dress dipped low in the back, the curve of her spine framed by satin and candlelight—almost begging for Elizabeth to run her hand down her skin. The part of Elizabeth that lived in boardrooms and spreadsheets had no idea what to do with this kind of longing.
They stopped just before the ballroom doors. Riley turned toward her, fidgeting with the clasp on her clutch.
“So,” she said. “We’re still pretending to be madly in love, right?”
Elizabeth met her eyes. “Convincingly, if possible.”
Riley rolled her eyes, but her smile was crooked. “I’ll do my best not to embarrass you in front of your high-society fan club.”
Elizabeth offered her arm.
Riley hesitated, just long enough to make Elizabeth’s pulse jump, then slipped her hand into the crook of Elizabeth’s elbow.
It was too easy. Too natural. Their bodies fit like they’d done this before.
As the doors swung open and the warm, golden sound of a string quartet floated out, Elizabeth told herself the same lie she’d been telling herself all week:
This is just for show. Just until the holiday is over.
But Riley’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on her arm.
And Elizabeth knew, with chilling clarity, that the lie was starting to fall apart.
The ballroom shimmered like something out of a snow globe. Frosted glass chandeliers dripped light from the ceiling, reflecting off gilded place settings and crystal punch bowls. Sleek catering staff wove through the crowd with silver trays, and laughter rang beneath the strains of a live string quartet nestled by the hearth.
