Sweet Victory: BTU Alumni Series Book #3

by Ciz, Alley

  She scooped the toddler into her arms, checking the color of her earrings to know which twin she held. “Hey, Lu.”

  “Coo-key.” The blonde cutie squealed, grabbing both of her cheeks in her little hands. The girls had taken to calling her Cookie thanks to the numerous times they received the treat when she was around.

  “I don’t have any,” Lucy’s face fell, so she added quickly, “but I did bring some. Would you like one?” Her emerald green eyes sparkled as she clapped her hands and chanted coo-key over and over.

  Unable to say no to the excited toddler—who could say no to those green eyes? No one, that’s who—she rose from the couch with the toddler on her hip and snuck into the kitchen for a cookie. She reached for one of the reindeer she had decorated the day before, passing it off to Lucy and earning a wink from Jake as he caught them, obviously unconcerned with his daughter having sweets. She made sure to grab a second cookie just in case Lacey found them out and wanted one of her own.

  “You’re really good with them,” Mama Steele observed as she resumed her seat, and as expected, Lacey ran over trying to steal her sister’s cookie. Holly deftly averted crisis by handing off the extra one.

  “They make it easy.” She shrugged off the praise even as Rocky warned, “Mom.”

  “What, honey?” Vicki feigned a look of innocence. “I was merely making an observation.”

  Becky snorted, and Gemma attempted to cover a laugh.

  “Uh-huh. Suuuurrrre. Leave the girl alone…they’ve only been dating for like a month.”

  “Time is relative, my dear. Look at how quickly you married Gage. When you know, you know.” Vicki’s eyes once again went to Holly. “Did you know you are the first girl my son has ever brought around the family?”

  “Mom.” Rocky tried again to rein her in.

  “Oh, relax, dear.” She waved off her daughter’s concern. “There’s never even been a hint of a chance of your brother giving me grandkids one day—at least legitimately—so hush while I get to know Holly.”

  She felt like she was hit by a Stupefy curse from a Harry Potter character when Vicki’s words registered.

  Babies?

  She sent up a silent message to the IUD gods, praying her birth control continued to do its job and keep any aliens from invading her uterus for the near future. She needed to find the courage to actually say the words I love you to Vince before she even entertained the idea of kids.

  “You okay, Cupcake?” Vince must have noticed her mini freak-out.

  “She’ll be fine,” Gemma answered.

  “Yeah…your mom is only planning out the nursery for your future children, but she’ll be fine in a minute,” Becky added with a devilish smirk.

  One of Vince’s black brows rose to his hairline. “Something you want to tell me, Cupcake?”

  She shook her head so fast her hair whipped both her and Lucy in the face. “That would be a hard no. The only thing taking up residence in my uterus right now is my IUD.”

  “What’s an IUD?” Sean asked the room.

  Well, shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have announced my method of birth control to the room?

  To be fair, the last thing she needed was for Vince to have even the notion that she could be pregnant. He was already way more overbearing than she needed in her life, she could only imagine how insufferable he would be if he thought she was carrying his child. She had enough family stress at the moment, she didn’t need to add any baby daddy/baby mama drama.

  “Girl stuff, bro.” Ryan handled the awkward question from his youngest brother. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  “It’s Christmas.” Vince dropped onto the armrest next to her. “Can we not turn this into a Steele family dinner.”

  “Oh, don’t be a buzzkill, Vin,” Becky complained.

  “Agreed,” Gemma added. “Don’t go ruining our fun just because you always seem to become the topic of conversation.”

  “Yeah.” Becky snorted. “Him and his procreations.”

  Both her roommates lost it in a fit of giggles.

  Rocky was the only one to take pity on them.

  “Mom.” She rubbed a hand over her belly. “Is this guy not enough for you to be excited about for now?”

  “Guy?” Mama Steele jumped off the couch, squealing in excitement. “It’s a boy?”

  “I’m getting two nephews this year?” Vince included the baby Jordan was having into the equation.

  “When did you find out?” Gemma asked.

  “How could you not tell me?” Becky screeched.

  Rocky’s face did its best imitation of a fish as her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Holly had a feeling she hadn't meant to say that.

  Everyone watched them as the three moms danced around in celebration.

  “Blue?” Gage was at Rocky’s side immediately, his large hand spanning most of his wife’s bump as he rubbed it in soothing circles. “Everything okay with the baby?”

  “I’m pretty sure she’s fine,” Holly answered when Rocky continued to stay silent. Gage’s electric blue eyes turned her way as she spoke. “I think she’s just trying to come to terms with accidentally spilling the sex of your baby. Congratulations by the way.”

  “Hold on.” Gage raised a hand in the air and returned his attention to his wife. “You know what we’re having?”

  Rocky nodded.

  “And…”

  “We’re having a boy.” She smiled up at her husband who threw his arms up in the air like he'd just defended his heavyweight title.

  “Fuck yeah!” Gage scooped Rocky from the couch into a bear hug, spinning her in a joyful circle. “When did you find out?”

  “Last week.”

  “Last week? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Well, I was planning on telling you today. It was actually part of your present, but it kind of slipped out now.”

  “That would be the pregnancy brain,” Jordan said, and they shared a moment over having boys. “Just wait until you have number two and it’s combined with mommy brain. The struggle is real.”

  The next few minutes were spent with Rocky and Gage getting passed around from person to person wishing them congratulations.

  “Can I be the first to say”—Jase wrapped an arm around both his sister and Rocky—“I’m happy you’re both having boys. Because we need a break from the creation of future Covenettes.”

  The comment set off a fresh wave of laughter. Holly noticed no one denied the truth of the statement.

  * * *

  Presents were opened, the delicious meal was eaten buffet style, clean-up was completed and the parents returned home, leaving behind their cast of friends plus Sean and Carlee.

  Holly snuggled in Vince’s lap, cursing him for being the only one in the room not nursing a food baby due to his meal plan. He was at the weight he needed to be for his fight, now he just had to maintain it until weigh-ins in six days.

  “Oh, come on.” Sean threw his hands up in frustration at the basketball game playing on the flat-screen above the fireplace. “You were barely touching, dude.”

  She was having too much fun tracing the outlines of Vince’s abs under his shirt to pay much attention to the game, but at Sean’s outburst she shifted so she could see the basketball player from the Boston team being helped off the court while he held his shin.

  “Basketball players are such wimps,” Carlee said. “They need to toughen up. Learn to take a hit, dude.”

  “Why do you think I play hockey, babe?” Sean put his arm around his best friend, and snorts and chuckles sounded around the room at the little charmer.

  “Donovan, have I ever told you I love how bloodthirsty your sister is?” Chance said to his teammate.

  “Careful, bro,” Jake cautioned. “Those two may not even be double digits in age, but they are ruthless.” He pointed to Sean and Carlee.

  “I love it.”

  “You would,” Gemma said with an eye-roll. “You are a goon, after all.”

&
nbsp; “Oh, Princess.” Chance tsked under his breath. “You and I both know I’m as much of a goon as your boy Jase. Don’t even try to deny my skill on the ice.”

  The crazy tension between her roommate and the hockey player was entertaining to experience.

  The couch dipped as Tucker plopped down beside her and Vince.

  “So, Hol.” The arm Tucker slung over her shoulders was quickly knocked away by a scowling Vince. “Can you make cookies that look like anything?” he asked while munching on one of the Santas she'd made.

  “Pretty much.”

  Tuck bit off Santa’s head, swallowing before he continued. “So if I needed to order a bunch of cookies that looked like dicks, you could make that happen?”

  “What?” She barely got her question out through her laughter.

  “Ooooh.” Lyle was intrigued. “We can totally branch out into the erotic side of the bakery. You gonna model for the cookies, Tuck?” He waggled an eyebrow.

  “Oh, god. Don’t encourage him,” Skye said.

  “It doesn’t have to be mine. But I would be happy to show you if you’d like a private viewing of my hockey stick.” Tucker was somewhat charming as he made the suggestion.

  “Tuck, next time you offer to show my girlfriend your dick, I’ll break it off,” Vince threatened, leveling him a look that had her curling in her lips to hold in a giggle. He was so over the top, even when he had nothing to worry about. The only dick she had interest in seeing was his.

  Ryan reached over and smacked Tucker upside the head. “Dude…watch it. Impressionable minds.” He shifted his eyes to the two kids, and luckily both were too engrossed in the basketball game to pay attention.

  “Chill, Cap,” Tucker said to Ryan, then turned back to her. “Anyway…I don’t mean with a picture of my”—he gestured to his crotch—“I was thinking the cookie could be in the shape of the stick and pucks and you could do 'em up all fun with your icing and whatnot.”

  “I mean…yeah, I guess I could. But what I don’t understand is why?”

  Tucker’s face broke out in a beaming smile. “Well, Nick Murphy gave me the idea as a good prank for people. I would need a lot of them.”

  Nick Murphy? Why did that name sound so familiar?

  “Oh my god,” Maddey called out in disbelief. “Tuck, no. No, no, no.”

  “What?” He shrugged. “It’s a great idea.”

  “No, Tuck. You cannot have Holly make a thousand dick cookies for you to prank or revenge plot with.” Maddey’s voice was sterner than she’d ever heard it.

  “Wait. Hold up.” Holly made a T with her hands. “Why does this sound so familiar?”

  “Have you ever read Pippa Grant?” Maddey asked.

  “Oh, yeah, I love her books. Ares is one of my favorite book boyfriends. Her books are hilarious. I always laugh out loud like a crazy person when I read them.”

  “Girl, same,” Maddey agreed. “I want to be funny like Pippa when I grow up. But anyway…I made the mistake of including her books in our book club—because you know she has her characters do book club too—and Tuck likes to take prank inspiration from the Berger twins and Nick Murphy. Biggest mistake ever.”

  “What?” Tucker feigned innocence. “Don’t they say art imitates real life?”

  Maddey groaned and threw herself back onto Ryan, burying her face in his side as if she didn't have the strength needed to deal with Tucker. “I can’t even.”

  Holly looked around the room, more content than she could ever recall being, especially during a holiday. Back in her old life, holidays were all about photo ops and projecting the right image. There was none of that here.

  Kyle caught her eye, giving her a soft smile. “It’s great, isn’t it?” he asked.

  She answered with a smile, snuggling deeper into Vince, his strong arms automatically wrapping around her. Inhaling the fresh scent of his soap, at peace and safe in her boyfriend’s arms.

  This.

  This was the life she'd dreamed of while lonely inside her gilded castle. She wanted nothing more than for it to be hers for the rest of her life.

  Too bad life had other plans.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  With Christmas over, Holly was back to baking the standard fare of scones and muffins for Espresso Patronum. They say a watched pot never boils, well, the same could be said for muffins baking. She was counting down the minutes until they were done, planning to head across the street to The Steele Maker as soon as she pulled them from the oven.

  She was washing the last of the mixing bowls when Lyle entered, a peculiar look on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked immediately. Lyle looked like he was going to be sick.

  “Umm…” His words trailed off as he looked away.

  “Ly?” She shut off the water, moving to stand across from her friend. “You’re kinda scaring me right now.”

  “Well, Sweets.” Again he didn’t finish his thought until she prodded him in his inked-up arm. “Your dad is here.”

  She blinked.

  And blinked again.

  There was no way she heard him right.

  Her father was here?

  No way.

  “Say that again.”

  “Your dad”—Lyle pointed to her—“is out there." He pointed toward the front of the coffee house.

  “My father, Randall Vanderbuilt, is here?” Shock laced her words.

  “Yup.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Stuck up old guy. Salt and pepper hair, wears million dollar suits, and looks down his nose at everyone?”

  Yeah, that was a pretty accurate description of her father.

  “Did he say why he was here?”

  Lyle crinkled his nose as if the memory was unpleasant. “He said, and I quote, ‘Go fetch my daughter.’”

  Yeah, that sounded like something he would say. He treated anyone who didn’t have as much money or power—which was most people—as if they were merely his servants. Was it really any surprise she wanted away from her family?

  She so didn’t want to talk to her father. There weren’t enough words in the English language to describe how much she didn’t want to go out there. But knew if she didn’t he would only come barreling into the kitchen as if he owned the place.

  She tightened the bow of her bandana headband, steeling herself for what she was about to face.

  He spotted her the moment she rounded the front counter. She hadn’t seen him in months, but he was still the same stick-up-the-ass, haughty man looking down at the “peasants” around him as she remembered. The whiskey eyes she inherited were as hard as amber as they watched her approach.

  “God, Holly.” His voice dripped with disappointment. “When Chad told us what you looked like I was hoping he was exaggerating. But look at you”—he waved a hand up and down her body—“you look… You look so…pedestrian.”

  Randall Vanderbuilt may have billions, but no amount of money in the world could buy the man class.

  “It’s nice to see you too, Father.” She wasn’t able to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  “We need to talk. Come with me.” He turned on his heel, walking away without waiting for an answer. Why would he? It never occurred to Randall Vanderbuilt that people wouldn’t follow his directives.

  More than anything, she wanted to ignore the command, to reaffirm her new-found independence and stay where she was, far away from anything remotely connected to her past. Unfortunately, she knew ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away. It had the potential to make things worse.

  With a heavy sigh, she grabbed her winter coat from the rack by the door and stepped outside into the blistering cold December air.

  “Let’s talk in the limo.” Her father gestured to the black stretch limo parked at the curb.

  She shook her head, rejecting the idea immediately. She wouldn’t put it past him to have his driver whisk them back to Connecticut the second the doors were closed.

  “Charles.” Her father b
arked at his driver as if reading her mind.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I need a moment with my daughter.” He spat the word like a curse. “Wait for me in the coffee shop until I am done.” He didn’t ask or use words like please. No, he commanded—manners were a foreign concept to the man.

  “Now, shall we?” He held out a hand toward the limo the moment his driver disappeared inside Espresso Patronum.

  She glanced across the street at The Steele Maker, not wanting to get in the vehicle, but knowing it was probably best not to be seen on the street having this conversation. If Vince happened to look out and see her, it was almost guaranteed he’d come outside.

  Opening the door to the limo—because god forbid Randall Vanderbuilt opened it for himself—she slid across the leather seat inside the custom interior, her senses assaulted by the rich scent of the cologne her father preferred and the scotch he drank. Her stomach churned.

  She moved to the long bench seat along the left side of the car, needing to face him head-on for whatever diatribe he wanted to spew. He didn’t waste any time.

  “It is time for you return home.”

  It took everything in her not to roll her eyes.

  “I am home, Father.” She kept eye contact as she spoke, not showing an ounce of weakness. “This”—she pointed down—“is my home.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “You’ve had your tantrum. Now it is time for you to grow up and come back to Connecticut. You have a duty to fulfill. A role you need to serve.”

  Now she did roll her eyes.

  “The only duty I have is to be true to myself. I’m worth more than a bargaining chip in a business agreement. I’m done being used as one.”

  “Oh, grow up, Holly.” He paused to pour himself a tumbler of thirty-five-year-old scotch. “You will return home. Pack your bags, and move back in with your fiancé before the week is out.”

  At the mention of Chad, there was no stopping the laugh from escaping.

  “Yeah…no.” She shook her head for emphasis. “You have a better chance of Mother leaving the house without any makeup on than me going back to Chad. I don’t love him…and now that I know what real love is, I don’t think I ever did.”