Page 1 of A Christmas Maker

Prologue

“Eat shit and die, love.” – Bex

Eight Years Ago

Being served divorce papers in front of all my friends is not in the top ten highlights of my life. I don’t know who feels more awkward right now, me or the bike messenger who looks like he’s ready to shit himself.

I try not to take his reaction personally, since I’m sure it’s more about his employer wanting to get rid of me than it is aboutme. Still, part of me wants to nail this guy in the shin with my Prada boot for ruining my day.

I knew this was coming. I’m only twenty and myhusband, it turns out, is about to graduate college. Right here, in the same place I am.

Funny how life works.

This is why sneaking drinks with a fake ID in Vegas is frowned upon. Because people who fall in love there, quickly fall out of love when they leave. The bubble they create together pops and the blow hits everything in sight.

I found out two weeks ago who my husband really is. The man I spent my summer with is a liar. He set me up to take the fall and now, in front of everyone, my world is about to collapse. Not because of the divorce papers, but because of what they mean.

I stole someone else’s fiancé, even if I didn’t know he had one.

I took something that didn’t belong to me, and from the elitist circle in New York, my name is now smeared in scarlet. It doesn’t matter that two weeks ago I was blissfully unaware until someone broke the news in a rather unflattering storm by calling me every name under the book for being a homewrecker and gold digger at the campus coffee shop.

Hedid this to me. The fake man I met on a whirlwind summer adventure.

Two weeks ago I didn’t know anything. I thought the devil lived in Hell where he belongs. Turns out I was wrong; the devil lives in New York and his name is Thorin Ravenscroft.

1

“The world finds its interests in the sorrows of others.” - Bex

The key slides out of the deadbolt, securing the door to the frame right as I step backwards. The balmy air is already trying to melt me with the sun’s wicked rays; a trail of sweat snaking down my back in the few minutes since I’ve stepped outside.

The trees provide little shade as I walk towards the driveway. My little thousand square foot home sits just behind the large mansion in front of me, Nana Noel’s house. Technically speaking, I live in her guest house. The driveway separates the two living quarters, though I can still remember Nana Noel telling me this space used to be where servants lived in the olden days. Such rich history for New York’s elite.

Speaking of the devil, I spot Nana Noel’s wispy white hair turning iridescent in the light as she tilts a watering can over a patch of ripe tomatoes in her small garden. She glances up, her eyes focusing on me as I divert from my original path towards my car and veer towards her.

“Am I going to be allowed to steal some of those for salsa?” I ask as I get closer, gesturing to the tomatoes.

She makes an unpleasent choking sound in the back of her throat. “Bex, darling, I didn’t realize you were trying your hand at cooking Hispanic food after what happened last time.”

Last time when Maria Garcia, Nana Noel’s poker friend at the Elderly Ladies Club, tried to teach me to make authentic enchiladas, I somehow managed to make them look like they werereheated frozen garbage. Polite words coming from an almost eighty year old. “Salsa seems easier. I found a recipe for it on Pinterest.”

Her thin pink lips press together. “Is this a wise endeavor?”

My ego takes a slight hit at her words. Defiance flares in my gut as I say, “I can cook.” Mostly. I feed myself regularly enough and I haven’t died yet so that has to count for something.

“Yes, dear, you can. Things I already taught you.”

My gaze trails from Nana Noel’s to the tomatoes. I guess picking up tomatoes at the grocery store will be the wiser decision. “Besides being sassy, how is your morning going?” I ask, hitching my bag over my shoulder.

“Fine, fine. Social media is keeping me mostly glued to that damn tablet you got me. I can’t believe how much news one can get off that thing.”

A smile tweaks the corners of my mouth. I got her a tablet for Christmas last year, setting her up with social media since all of her friends were hounding her to get on there. Most of them are bordering on having great grandchildren, so it’s hilarious to watch all the random bouts of information they share amongst their old lady friend group. “I told you to stop reading everything you see on there, not all of it is true.”

Nana Noel twirls her eyes. “Of course I know that. They were talking about sending people to Mars just a few years ago and look how that’s turned out. So much hype about the subject and now everything is mysteriously going silent about it. Still, there are tons of tabloid articles.” Her head tilts to the side, a slight tug downwards is the only warning I won’t like whatever it is she’s about to say. “Alliard Brookwell was mentioned this morning.”

Well, considering he’s a billionaire who owns almost every security system in the upper northeastern portion of the United States, that’s not particularly astonishing news. I also don’t want to hear about him, not with how he’s linked to my past, but I manage to push through the anger riling in my gut. “So?”

“He has a girlfriend now.”

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