by C J Burright
She didn’t bother with a more definite description of ‘this’. They both knew it pertained to far more important matters than the Christmas party, but saying Joey’s name aloud always made things worse. And the truth in her words settled over her like a silken web, soft and clinging. Getting through the grief was impossible without an effort, without searching for ways—no matter how silly, creative or inadvisable—to make life tolerable until the cloud-cover faded.
Knowing the sun would come back eventually was bittersweet. She didn’t want to let Joey go. At the same time, she couldn’t remain in the dark with only memories. She wouldn’t survive much longer.
Tonight, she wanted to escape it all, even for a little while—she needed to, before she suffocated under the weight.
“Fine.” Adara opened the car door and got out.
“Super.” Gia hopped out and locked the doors before Adara changed her mind.
Cold slapped her face, leaving a sting. The temperature had dropped enough that she drew her coat closer and regretted not bringing her hat and scarf…almost. She’d spent too much time curling her hair into perfect waves to murder it with a cover and her navy-blue cocktail dress was made to bare her neck and shoulders. The crystals sewn into the tulle overlay of the skirt twinkled like stars in a midnight sky—a precursor to what the clear twilight sky promised soon—and her shoes sparkled silver with every step. Smoky eyes and rose-petal-pink lips made the final touches of her Glitter Girl party guise. It was the first time she’d dressed up since the last stages of Joey’s sickness, and for a little while, it was making her feel close to normal again.
That feeling was already fading at the edges, though, and if she didn’t so something fast, it would be gone. She wasn’t ready for the creeping emptiness to return.
Gia looped her arm through Adara’s, as much for support as to make sure Adara didn’t try to escape, and she guided her friend across the parking lot toward the opening in the hedge, where the walkway leading to the club waited. A quick sweep of the parked cars didn’t reveal Ian’s red Porsche, which meant she had at least a few minutes of prep time. Pebbles crunched beneath their heels and the beat of music drifted from the mansion, too faint to make out the tune, as they weaved between the cars of guests already there. An iron arbor cast in roses and vines offered an entry point into a different realm, where wishes came true and fairy tales still existed…for a few hours.
“Since you clearly have no intention of drinking or dancing tonight, I have a mission for you.” She raised her eyebrows at Dar in challenge. “If you think you can handle it.”
“I’m not distracting Chuck from dancing with you again. I can’t stomach an hour of advertising jokes. I’d have to kill him, and I really don’t want to deal with a murder. They’re so time-consuming.”
“Chuck might be good for you. All that red hair… He’d probably keep the fire going during the cold winter nights.”
Adara’s glare could carve bones.
“I’m kidding. Calm down.” Gia rolled her eyes. But if she had her way, Adara would find some romance magic tonight, whether it was with Chuck or someone else. She could absolutely use a toe-curling, earth-shaking kiss to loosen her up, someone to make her forget everything, if even for a split second. Maybe it would be enough to make her crack a rare smile. “Remember the mistletoe office bet I told you about last week?”
She nodded, the lines around her mouth softening a smidge. “How many times did Lisette score?”
“Sadly, only once.” The memory remained burned into her brain, but while the details surrounding Lisette were smudged and washed-out, Ian was crystalline. She’d never forget the flex of his firm arms as he’d held her and his strong hand on her back, sure and steady. How he’d bent over her like a dark god accepting a sacrifice to ravish. The heat and hint of savage hunger in his kiss—even though it hadn’t been her lips beneath his—still singed her blood.
“And?” Adara prodded, interrupting the delicious memory. “What about the bet against you?”
“I still have to make it through tonight to win, which is where you come in.” She pressed close and walked faster, the cold numbing her nose. “I have no idea where any mistletoe might be in the country club, which means I don’t know what spots to avoid being lured, dragged or otherwise unwillingly taken to. I need you to do a recon of the area for me, so I can steer clear of all potential traps.”
“Done.” The relief in Adara’s voice was almost laughable. She’d do nearly anything to escape socializing.
The bark of birch trees lining the walkway gleamed white in the gloom, glowing with an almost-fey light. Frost sparkled in the trunks and bare boughs, glittering over statues and iron lampposts, nature’s own magic at work. The music grew louder—some version of Winter Wonderland from the eighties—and the glow from the club’s windows lured them onward.
A shiver traveled through Gia as they ascended the stairs, and it had nothing to do with the frigid temperature. Tonight was a Cinderella moment, where the real world ceased to exist and anything could happen, where the rules of magic and midnight applied. She intended to drink deep of the fantasy for as long as possible.
* * * *
“I’m feeling vastly overdressed.” Roman straightened his red bowtie and the look he gave Ian held the weight of mild accusation. “You could have given me a heads-up on the dress code, dude.”
Ian smirked, taking in Roman’s tuxedo as they strolled up the walkway to the country club. “But you look so dashing.”
“That’s true.” Roman nodded, solemn, his black eyes glittering like a raven’s in the gloom, clever and intent. “However, the truth doesn’t exonerate you from blame.”
“I don’t control your assumptions.” Hunched in his lined leather jacket, Ian didn’t bother telling his buddy that the dress code tonight was open for interpretation and completely optional. Since he wore suits five days of the week, he’d opted for an ultrafine merino wool sweater and matching trousers, all black. He’d don the appropriate Santa’s hat while passing out presents to the masses to appear the part. Otherwise, he had no intention of getting his jollies on…until he had Gia alone.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the law library incident on Friday, which had made for a very long night and even longer Saturday. He’d taken an exorbitant amount of time selecting his wardrobe for tonight, shaving, ensuring his hair was stylishly tousled, the perfect splash of cologne in all the proper places. It was almost embarrassing how much he resembled a teenager with a crush. Worse, he didn’t care about that as much as he suspected he should.
The anticipation was slowly destroying him in the best possible way.
“You’re wearing that look again,” Roman said. The lights from the bay windows cast him in an unearthly glow, as if he were some rare creature of the dark, who was being irresistibly drawn to the merriment inside.
“What look?” Ian asked as they climbed the steps to the club.
A slight furrow appeared between Roman’s brows. “The one that says something wicked this way comes and by ‘something wicked’, I mean you.”
Ian let his smirk widen. “Your observation skills are impeccable, Baconbits.”
“Yes, they are.” Roman opened one side of the gleaming double doors leading into the mansion and a draft of warm air rushed out, carrying a blend of apple spice and pine. Laughter and the music of a party starting to swing lured them inside. “My question to you, Boy Wonder, is what level of mischief are you planning? Is it of the sort that I should return to the car for my scanner and remain on high alert for, or may I enjoy this party without worrying about a woman later expectorating in my lunch because she discovers we’re friends?”
“Dance to your heart’s content and drink as much as you can of Hamilton’s money without worrying your pretty head.” Ian clapped him on the back and shrugged off his coat once the doors closed behind them, shutting out the chill. “I have no intention of sharing my trouble tonight.”
“That’s not at all comforting,” Roman said mildly, his gaze already on the open doors of the ballroom at the end of the corridor, where red and green lights shimmered from a disco ball and Christmas rock music thumped. He started walking forward, as if hypnotized by the promise of fun, Ian seemingly already forgotten. “I’ll check on you before I leave.”
You won’t find me. Ian handed his jacket to the employee outside the coatroom as his friend bailed on him, not bothering to say the words aloud. Roman probably wouldn’t have heard him, anyway, and he’d figure it out when Ian couldn’t be found because he’d left.
With Gia.
Fashionably late, he lingered near the familiar, chattering fountain in the center of the foyer before taking the corridor to the ballroom. Hamilton had first invited him here years ago, one of many steps in the ladder to ultimate approval. The country club foyer glistened like ice, elegantly decorated in silver crystals that shimmered beneath the light of the enormous chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling, not a leaf of mistletoe in sight. He was a member now, more to rub elbows with the Graywood elite than to golf, an evil necessity he’d have preferred to forego if gaining partnership status with Hamilton hadn’t been his ultimate goal. He hated pretending to be nice, hated golf even more, but he’d become an expert at being who people expected him to be—whenever and however it suited his intentions best.
Revealing who he really was would be the fastest ticket to destroying everything he’d fought so hard for, and tonight wasn’t about being nice. Tonight, only naughtiness was on his menu.
Slipping his hands into his pockets, he strolled toward the ballroom and paused outside the doorway. Tables decorated with holly and candles nestled near the walls, leaving most of the floor open for dancing. A stage and microphone had been set up at the front of the room, where Hamilton would make some speech about prosperity then hand the proceedings over to him, since he was responsible for handing out the mountain of wrapped presents on one side of the stage. Hamilton carefully hand-selected each gift, another kick to the excitement of receiving a bonus holiday check on Monday. Hamilton & Associates wasn’t the worst place to work. The future Hamilton & O’Connor will be even better.
The entire office, plus guests, seemed to have showed for the festivities. Laughter and conversation filtered through the music, the dance floor was filled with bobbing revelers and people scattered among the tables, glasses and bottles glinting with each shift in the red-and-green lights. But there was only one person he sought.
As he spotted Gia with a group of other dancing, laughing women, the steel wire that had been strung through his entire body since Friday afternoon tightened into a hot coil. The navy-blue dress she wore clung to her generous curves and left her milky shoulders and neck on full display. The rest of her sparkled—from her skirt with its crystals, the shimmering glitter on her bare legs and the stilettos that gleamed like diamonds in moonlight.
Never, not for a second, had he ever wanted someone like he did Gia. It was unhealthy, the need he had for her, too close to obsession to call it anything else. It could be that he wasn’t accustomed to waiting or being denied, but he’d perfected patience in every other area of his life. Or maybe she’d just been off-limits for so long that even touching her felt forbidden. And yet, the excitement she stirred in him was as natural as breathing, unstained and free. He’d wondered if she resisted him because she didn’t want to want him—which could be an aphrodisiac in and of itself—but the way she’d looked at him after he’d kissed Lisette, her eyes hot with need…? There was no denying the wanting.
He released a long breath, regaining control of his body and thoughts. The whys, hows and what-ifs made no difference in the long run. Tonight, he’d rid himself of this tangled thing between them that was rising too close to the surface of mere lust, threatening to break free. His future depended on it.
Ian glided into the party and set his plan in motion.
Chapter Six
The moment Ian had arrived at the party, Gia had known. Tingles had swept down her back, as if in response to his heated gaze. During an hour of nonstop dancing, she’d forced herself to stop looking at the entrance with her every revolution on the dance floor, but when that electricity had coursed over her skin, she’d glanced in between arm waves.
Holy snap, crackle and pop. Ian had been standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, looking like a king surveying his realm. He wore all black, casual and absolutely not festive, and yet she couldn’t compare him to Adara’s wardrobe protest. Black gave his usual suave a dangerous edge. Usually, dangerous didn’t do anything for her, but on Ian? She was tempted to go reckless.
That had been another hour and three margaritas ago. He hadn’t even tried to talk to, flirt with or otherwise engage her. It made her twitchy. He was up to something. But she was having fun anyway, and the margaritas helped. She laughed as Karen shimmied up to her and performed a perfect moonwalk.
Adara suddenly blocked her view and leaned near to talk over the music. “There are only two mistletoe locations you have to worry about.” She slid gracefully into the circle of dancers and stood there, refusing to engage in the revelry, an unmoving rock in the center of a river. “One offending bunch of twigs hangs above the stairway headed to the second story. The other is above the gentlemen’s locker room door.” One dark eyebrow twitched. “Chuck came out while I was there. It was a narrow escape.”
“Good work, Dar.” The song ended and Gia followed Adara through the crowd, needing a breather. She grabbed her half-empty margarita glass from their table and gulped it down. The tequila fed the fire in her blood that had been stoked by dancing, by forgetting everything beyond the beat and the freedom of simply moving.
“Are you sure that’s all?” She set the empty glass down and faced Adara. “Only two places to avoid makes me nervous.”
“I don’t mind doing another sweep.” Adara stepped out of the way and curled her lip as a law clerk tripped on a chair leg and sloshed his drink, almost splashing the toes of her pumps. “As riveting as all this is, it’s possible I missed one.” She nodded, as if confirming her own reasoning. “I’ll check again.” Before Gia could speak, she slid away like a shadow.
Carrying two margaritas, Karen skirted the edge of the dance floor and handed one to Gia. “Cheers, Glitter Girl.” She clinked her glass with Gia’s and drained it in one long draught. “Gotta love Hamilton’s holiday generosity. What do you think he got you this year?”
Last year, it had been a silk scarf in her favorite shade of pink—not that he could’ve gone wrong with any pink. She still hadn’t figured out how he’d known carnation pink was her favorite—or maybe it had simply been a lucky guess. “After another one of these”—Gia lifted her glass and gulped down her drink while Karen watched, grinning—“even if it’s a goat-hair headband, I’ll probably be delighted.”
Karen laughed. “As long as it’s not a—” Her mouth fell open and she stared beyond Gia, whatever she’d been about to say apparently forgotten. “I’ve found the lord of darkness,” she said in a hushed tone. “I’m sure you’ll forgive me for sacrificing my body to him.”
Pivoting, Gia came face to face with Ian. From a distance, he had looked fine and fashionable as always. Up close, he was delectable—and he was very, very close. His warmth licked over her bare arms and the beguiling cologne he always wore curled around her, drugging her. His blue eyes, hooded as they were, appeared almost ebony.
“Ms. Hellman.” He flicked a brief glance at Karen. “Karen. Enjoying yourself so far?”
“Not as much as I could be,” Karen purred from behind Gia.
Gia suddenly had a driving need for another drink. Her mouth was dry and the rest of her was quickly overheating. Simply by standing there, Ian seemed to suck the air from her lungs. He drifted his gaze over her neck and shoulders and her skin prickled, as if he’d caressed her instead and left a trail of stardust.
“Care to dance later?” he asked Gia, as he settled
a Santa hat on his head at a jaunty angle. “I have duties to attend to, but afterward…” He lowered his voice to a honeyed drawl, full of dark promise. “I’ll find you.”
“Presents!” Karen clapped her hands.
The distraction gave Gia enough time to pull her thoughts away from all that was Ian O’Connor and the disturbing way he affected her to finally answer him. “I don’t think so, Mr. O’Connor.” She lifted her chin. “The threat of mistletoe hidden somewhere on your person is simply too great to be standing so close.” With a jolt, she realized the same reasoning applied to right now. All it would take for him to win the bet was for him to whip out a sprig. The fact that he hadn’t was almost alarming. What is he up to?
With a sniff, she spun away and headed for the bar, leaving him to Karen’s mercy. If she stayed beside him for one more second, she wasn’t sure what might happen, because the magical thrumming in her veins couldn’t be entirely blamed on the intoxication of music, margaritas and merrymaking.
The smartest move she could make was to avoid Ian altogether, not simply to win the bet but to erase the risk of temptation. Before Joey, she wouldn’t have avoided Ian at all. She would have soaked in his attention, fallen for his charm and been one of the uncountable other women who believed they could change his one-night-only rule because maybe she’d be the one girl he couldn’t get enough of.
And, in the morning, she’d be reminded that she wasn’t all that special.
Joey, I miss you.
A lump formed in her throat, invading her iridescent bubble of determination to forget the outside world for the night, and she swallowed it down as she reached the bar. She gave the bartender her brightest smile, not caring if it looked fake or not. “Another margarita, please. Make it a double.”
As she waited for her drink, the music died. Mr. Hamilton took the stage and dove into his annual speech on justice, prosperity and how Hamilton & Associates played their part in the grand scheme of Graywood. She loved her job, and as much as she wanted to make a difference, as much as Mr. Hamilton assured them their interaction with the community mattered, his confidence didn’t infect her like it had the previous year. People surrounded her on all sides. She’d immersed herself in the party, in the music and laughter and lights.