One Empire Night

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “I am. Figured I could do some good there.”

  “I don’t doubt it. If I can help out, let me know.”

  His expression freezes and I almost laugh at his discomfort. “I’m not offering to break any kneecaps for you, Damon. Just a regular campaign donation.”

  Like a good politician he smooths over the awkwardness with a bland smile. “Of course. Thank you. That’s very generous.”

  We stop at the bar before searching for the girls. Unsurprisingly, my friend Tony is there and he gives me an enthusiastic handshake. We speak for a few minutes. Mostly pleasantries about his family. I spot Glassman, the attorney who handles the club’s legal work across the room and he nods at me. If he’s surprised to see me here, it doesn’t show.

  Hope and Mara are standing in a small circle of people. Damon and I head their way. I quietly walk up behind Hope and slip my arm around her waist.

  She turns to give me a hint of a smile and accepts the small glass of ginger ale I hand her. “Thank you.”

  When there’s a break in the conversation, Hope introduces me to her colleagues. They’re far more interested in talking to Damon, and I’m not insulted. Damon manages to smoothly transition the conversation back to his wife.

  Hope tips her glass back, taking a sip of her soda, and flashes three fingers at me.

  Chuckling at the subtle signal, I excuse us.

  Hope gives Mara a triumphant smile and waves at her over her shoulder.

  “Are you sure you want to leave so early? We still have time before the party at CB starts.”

  “I’m sure,” she answers without a trace of doubt in her voice.

  At the edge of the room, Glassman stops us. “Rock, good to see you.” He turns to Hope and holds out his hand. “Ms. Kendall, I don’t usually see you at these events.”

  “I try to avoid them as much as possible,” she answers with an awkward laugh. If there’s one thing I love about my wife, she’s unflinchingly honest. Even when I know she doesn’t mean to be. “My friend, Mara, is on the board.”

  “Ah, Judge Oak’s wife. I see,” he says as if that makes it all click into place for him.

  I don’t care for the condescending tone Glassman uses with my wife. Is this how he would normally speak to her? Or does he think I’ll be impressed?

  “And I spoke to Angie. They need a co-chair for the small firms committee,” Hope adds, surprising me.

  “Uh, oh. Better stop her now, Rock. She’ll be dragging you to more of these events if you let her do that.”

  Let her do that? My fists curl, but punching Glassman isn’t the solution in this situation. Instead, I pull my face into a mask of confusion, cock my head, and use my own condescending tone. “Care to explain your reasoning?”

  Glassman clearly didn’t expect a question like that out of me. He opens his mouth, sputters, seems to realize how rude his comment actually was, and shakes his head. “They’ll be lucky to have you, Ms. Kendall,” he finally says.

  “Well, we were just heading out. Good to see you again,” Hope says, taking my hand.

  We make it three steps closer to the door when Mara calls out, stopping us.

  “You sneaky wench. You’re leaving already?” she asks, hugging Hope to her chest. “Thank you so much for coming.” She glances up at me. “Both of you.”

  Damon joins us and walks Hope to the coat closet. I’m so focused on my wife’s backside that when Mara stops, I almost knock her over.

  Unfazed, she turns and presses one hand to my arm. “Thank you, Rock.”

  “For?”

  “For being so good to her. Not getting in her way. Making her stronger. Take your pick.”

  Not sure what to say, I stand there, waiting for her to elaborate.

  Her lips curl into a teasing smirk. “I know you’re used to being the king in your world, but here you step back and quietly support her without trying to dominate the conversation.” She flicks her wrist toward the party. “You don’t try to make it all about you.”

  “I’m not a lawyer.”

  She tilts her head in a way that says don’t be dense. “You know what I mean.”

  “I think I do.”

  “Good.” She walks me to the door where we meet up with Damon and Hope.

  Once we’re outside, Hope sucks in a deep breath and immediately starts coughing as the cold air shocks her lungs.

  “Careful, Baby Doll,” I murmur, patting her back.

  “What were you and Mara talking about?” she asks as we walk up the street.

  I’m not sure what to make of Mara’s assessment of me yet. “She just thanked me for coming.”

  While my brief talk with Mara was nice, I’m still pissed about the conversation with Glassman. Once we’re in the car, I decide to ask her about it. “Is Glassman always that…dismissive when he talks to you?”

  “Uh, yeah.” She snorts. “It’s not like he’s the only one. A lot of male attorneys can’t help themselves. He’s more polite than most.”

  “Maybe the club needs a new law firm,” I mutter.

  “Don’t you dare. He’s an excellent attorney. Besides, your response was beautiful. It might have helped him realize he sounded like a sexist ass.”

  “I doubt it.” I put the truck in drive and steer us toward the highway. “Damon doesn’t seem to be like that.”

  “He’s not. Don’t get me wrong. He’s a terrifying judge to argue in front of. Low tolerance for pontificating and wasting his time. But he’s equally hard on the male attorneys, has never asked me when I plan to start a family, and doesn’t suggest I’d appear more “professional” in a skirt suit when I wear pants to court.”

  “Jesus Christ, seriously? Who’s said that shit to you?”

  “Are you going to beat them up for me?” she taunts.

  “Maybe. Now I feel shitty I’m taking you to a strip club.”

  She lets out a huff of laughter. “Why? At least it’s honest.

  “Glassman aside, are you happy you went?”

  “Yes and thank you for coming. I felt better having you with me.”

  “I always have your back, baby.”

  “I know you do,” she answers quietly.

  “And now you get to do the same for me.”

  She reaches over and slides her hand up my leg, resting it on my thigh, distracting the hell out of me.

  “It’s not quite the same,” she says. “You’re the president. Everyone respects you no matter what. And you’re always calm and controlled in every situation.”

  I prefer her version to the truth. Which is, “Most of the time I bite my tongue more than I want to.”

  “Oh, I know you do,” she teases. “I can tell by the tight smile that forms right here.” She traces her fingertip over my cheek, down to the corner of my mouth. “And the muscles in your neck tense up.” Her finger moves lower, blazing a path over my skin.

  “Are you trying to get us into an accident?”

  I glance over long enough to catch her batting her eyelashes in an innocent who me expression.

  “I’m just trying to explain that I want to help make things less tense for you tonight.”

  “I have some suggestions.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Her hand drops from my neck to my lap and slides over my crotch, squeezing enough to scramble my brain.

  “Jesus, woman. Control yourself.”

  She takes her hand away and sits back.

  “I didn’t say don’t touch me at all.”

  “No, you’re right. I can’t control myself.”

  At the next stoplight, I reach over and settle my hand on her knee. “Spread your legs for me.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Not yet.”

  Hope teasing and challenging me—there’s nothing I love more. I’m tempted to keep driving just to continue our conversation. I attempt to slide my hand under her dress again. “What does that mean?”

  She giggles and pushes my hand away. “The light’s
green.”

  Six

  As we make the turn into Marcel’s driveway, he glances in the rearview mirror. “Alexa awake yet?”

  Maybe she heard her name or she knew we were almost at the house, but she suddenly yelps and reaches for the window, smudging her little fingers against the glass.

  “I think so.” I finally look out the window to see what has her attention. “Marcel, what’s this?”

  Next to me, Charlotte squeals and claps her hands together. “Alexa seemed to love the lights in the park so much, Marcel wanted to create his own version for her.”

  All the trees on either side of the driveway are decorated with multiple strands of vibrant Christmas lights. Some trees even have twinkling white snowflakes dangling from the lower branches.

  My eyes burn and for a few seconds I can’t swallow over the lump in my throat. “This must have taken you forever.”

  “Murphy helped me early this morning and Carter finished while we were getting the trees,” Marcel explains.

  “That’s where you were this morning?” I ask Blake.

  He turns and winks. “Where else?”

  “You didn’t notice in the daytime.” Marcel grins. “That’s why I wanted to keep us out until dark. I was hoping she’d wake up in time.”

  Alexa’s excited babbles climb higher in pitch as we roll closer to the house.

  To the left, a couple families of glowing white reindeer are tastefully grazing in the yard. On the right side of the house there’s a giant—and I mean huge—red, and white motorcycle, a jolly snowman, and even little puppies frolicking. The combined glow of the decorations is enough to light up the front yard. Some of the lawn ornaments are animated and Alexa doesn’t seem to know where to look first.

  My brother pulls the truck to the side of the driveway and turns it off while I zip Alexa into her coat and wrestle her into her mittens.

  Charlotte’s door opens and Carter’s red-cheeked face peers inside. “I just finished! I’m so glad you guys didn’t get here like fifteen minutes sooner. That Santa was a bitch. He had me cursing up a storm,” he says in excited rush.

  “Everything looks great. Thanks, Carter,” Marcel says.

  Charlotte jumps down and hugs her brother, while Blake opens my door and takes Alexa for me. I climb out and offer to hold her, but he grabs my hand instead. Alexa stretches her little arms toward the lights over her head, frustrated she can’t quite reach.

  “No. No touch. Ouch,” I warn her and she quickly pulls her arms against her chest and keeps them there.

  Marcel tickles his finger over her cheek and she jerks her head around laughing when she sees it’s him. “You listen so much better than your mom did. I told her no and she’d try to stick the lights in her mouth.”

  “Don’t give Alexa ideas,” Blake says.

  “I used to worry she was going to get electrocuted like the cat in Christmas Vacation,” Marcel teases.

  “Shut up. I did not,” I protest. Although, it does sound like something I would’ve done. Maybe.

  “You did all the critters by yourself, Carter?” Blake asks.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t hard. Teller already had them ready to go out in the garage. I just needed to place ‘em and plug ‘em in.” He points to the house. “I ran out of time to do the porch railings or anything else.”

  “We’ll do them tomorrow. Thanks, Carter,” Marcel says, pulling him in for a one-armed hug. Carter ducks his head and mumbles, “You’re welcome.”

  We spend the next hour or so wandering up and down the driveway, checking out all the decorations. Alexa’s enchanted by everything.

  I walk up and brush my shoulder against Marcel. “Thank you.”

  He holds out his arms to take Alexa and kisses her cheeks. “You like the lights, baby?”

  She giggles and claps her mittens together. “Thnow!” she says, pointing at the glittering white ornaments hanging from one of the trees.

  “That’s right,” I say. “Maybe we’ll have a White Christmas this year.”

  Alexa’s not sure what to think about that. She squirms, searching for Blake and stretches her little arms trying to get to him.

  “Oh, I see how it is,” Marcel laughs, handing her over. He slings his arm around me and pulls me closer. “I always wanted to do this when you were little, but we either didn’t have the money or Gram would’ve had a fit.”

  I tip my head back to take him in and my heart squeezes at the happy expression on his face. “You’re the best big brother. And an even better uncle.”

  Teller and Heidi seem to be having a moment, so I carry Alexa a few feet away to show her more of the decorations. Her big eyes and awed smile totally make up for my lack of sleep this morning. She wants to see everything and with my assistance even takes a few tentative steps to “pet” the deer. It’s chilly and she burrows against my chest, eventually falling asleep mumbling about “twees” and “dee-dees.”

  Heidi’s almost as entranced by the decorations as Alexa and I can’t wait to show her what’s waiting at home.

  “You guys staying for dinner?” Marcel asks a few minutes later.

  “Nothing fancy,” Charlotte says. “Make your own pizzas. I have fresh dough and all the toppings.”

  “That sounds awesome.” Heidi rubs her hands together. “I’m starving, even though all I did was sit in the truck and watch you two cut down the trees.”

  “Murphy and I are going to unload the trees, but we’ll be right in.”

  I hand Alexa over to Heidi and she thankfully doesn’t wake up.

  “You want me to help?” Carter asks.

  “Nah, we got this,” Teller says. “Go help Charlotte.”

  Carter narrows his eyes but follows the girls inside.

  “He okay with you bossing him around all the time?” I ask.

  Teller stops and cocks his head as if the thought never occurred to him. “I don’t boss him around.”

  “Sure, okay.”

  He frowns and then seems to shake it off. “Can we get the trees taken care of before you lecture me on how to manage my family?” Teller says, dropping the tailgate of his truck.

  “Didn’t realize it was such a touchy subject.”

  “Just grab your end of the tree, smart ass.”

  We toss mine in the back of my pickup first. I help him carry the other one up the porch stairs.

  “Do you even remember which one was which?” he asks as we navigate the steps.

  “Not really. Does it matter?”

  “Heidi seemed set on one.” He ducks his head and laughs. “I just can’t remember which one.”

  “It’s not like she won’t see both.”

  He drops his smile and sets his end of the tree down. “Speaking of, Charlotte meant it earlier, we’d like to have you guys stay Christmas Eve if you want. It’d be nice to wake up and open presents and stuff together.” He shrugs as if he’s worried I’m going to make fun of his suggestion. “See Alexa open her stuff.”

  “It’s your first Christmas in your new house. Sure you want us crashing it?”

  “You know I do and Charlotte wouldn’t have asked if she didn’t mean it.”

  “I’ll talk to Heidi.”

  Only because I’ve known Marcel so long, can I tell he’s not satisfied with my answer. But he’s been working hard on staying out of my relationship with Heidi and doesn’t persist.

  “We bringing in this tree or not?” I ask.

  He glances behind him. “Can you keep Charlotte busy in the kitchen?”

  “Isn’t that your job?”

  Instead of laughing, he frowns. “I’m serious. I have a surprise I want to set up for her upstairs.”

  “If it’s a sex swing, make sure you anchor it into one of the—”

  “It’s not a sex swing, you dick. And what…never mind. Just keep her downstairs.”

  “Let’s get inside first.”

  Charlotte already has a place ready in the living room for the tree and after we secure it in
the stand, Teller ghosts out.

  Slinging an arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, I steer her toward the kitchen. “What was that you said about make-your-own pizzas?”

  “Where’d Marcel go?”

  “Bathroom. He’ll probably be awhile.”

  What? Marcel didn’t say exactly how I was supposed to keep her downstairs.

  Seven

  We’re finishing dinner when Carter’s phone rings and he answers it at the table.

  “It’s Bianca,” he explains before getting up and walking away.

  “Oooo!” Murphy and Teller heckle and make kissy-noises at Carter until he runs from the room.

  “Really?” Heidi says, throwing her stern-mom look at both of them. She swings her gaze my way. “Is Bianca his girlfriend?”

  “I can’t keep track of what they are.”

  Carter ends up leaving to pick Bianca up from somewhere. Murphy and Heidi duck out a few minutes later.

  Then Marcel and I are finally alone.

  He reaches out and draws me into his arms.

  “Did you have a good day?” I ask.

  “The best. Thank you.”

  “You did all the work.”

  He answers with a happy humming sound and squeezes me tighter. “Want to finish decorating the tree?”

  “You really don’t want to go to the party?” I ask. “I bought a tiny dress and everything.” I’m not particularly eager to attend the club’s holiday party being held at the strip club they own. I’m looking forward to the more family-friendly events at the clubhouse over the next two weeks.

  I also recognize, that as Teller’s ol’ lady I’m expected to attend events like this and I don’t want him to think he has to skip something to please me.

  He pulls back and raises an eyebrow. “So about this slinky dress.”

  “Who said it was slinky?”

  “Tiny. Whatever. Where is it?”

  “In my closet.”

  “Go put it on for me.”

  “Are we going?”

  Instead of answering, he pulls back and stares at me with one cocky eyebrow raised.

  Challenging me.

  “Do you want me to give you a lap dance too?” I ask.

  “Maybe.”