“But most importantly,” Bunny’s voice rises to a projection level that would impress any Broadway star, “we have the privilege of being covered by the absolutely brilliant Seraphina Sparks, society columnist and fashion blogger extraordinaire and the voice of style for the modern woman!”
She gestures toward the entrance and Seraphina Sparks sweeps in with a wave. Her platinum blonde hair is scraped back, her cold gray eyes hide behind designer glasses, and she’s wearing a black and white ensemble that screamsI’m here to judge you and find you wantingand an expensive Christmas tree brooch that glitters like a holiday dream, or a weapon.
“And now,” Bunny’s voice drops to that sultry purr again, “let the festivities begin! Remember, ladies—if you’re all naughty enough, Santa might just make his big debut before we’re through!”
The crowd murmurs with what sounds like delight. But, let’s be honest, it’s most likely fright.
This is absolutely perfect,Bunny thinks with glee.Mrs. Pemberton looks like she’s about to faint, and that’s just from Vivienne’s introduction. Wait until they see what Diva brought.
The innuendo hangs in the air like overpriced cologne as the music swells and conversations resume with twice the energy.
I’m about to peruse the offerings myself when I notice my boss, Peyton Blakey, near the doorway with her chestnut hair in its usual perfect curtain, designer heels clicking against marble, her face cycling through colors that would make a Christmas light display jealous as she charges toward me. Have I mentioned she’s the manager of the club?
“Holiday,” she snaps, using my last namelike a weapon dipped in poison. “What in the name of all that’s holy is happening in here?”
This is a complete disaster,Peyton’s thoughts blast through my mind like a foghorn.The board will have my head if this gets out. And it will get out—that society columnist is documenting everything. My career is over. Finished. Kaput. But not before I toss Hattie out on her naughty little ear.
“Well,” I say, trying for optimism, “it’s certainly lively.”
“Lively?” Peyton’s voice cracks like a whip. “This is supposed to be a respectable Christmas luncheon, not a traveling circus of debauchery! And that gossip columnist is documenting our destruction in real time!”
She points a manicured finger at Seraphina, who’s now photographing Diva Divine’s demonstration of something involving mistletoe and physics.
“I’m banning all phones immediately,” Peyton announces loud enough for everyone to hear. “No pictures, no social media, no documentation!”
“Peyton, maybe we should—” I begin.
Seraphina looks up from her phone, her cold smile sharp enough to slice a Christmas ham. “Just try to stop me, sweetie. Freedom of the press and all those good constitutional things.”
And there goes any hope of damage control,Peyton’s thoughts scream.She’s going to destroy us. Absolutely destroy us. And it’s all Holiday’s fault for letting that blonde bimbo turn our luncheon into a sex shop demonstration!
Peyton’s face goes from red to purple. “Don’t test me, you social media vulture. I will shut this down faster than you can say viral scandal, and if you think I won’t destroy yourprecious blog to protect this club’s reputation, you clearly don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
She doesn’t. I can attest to that. Peyton is twice the hound of hell of anyone I’ve ever met, and twice the viper, too. I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side—and yet that seems to be the only side I’ve ever been on when it comes to her.
Her voice drops to a lethal whisper. “In fact, I’m so furious right now, I couldkillyou.”
“Peyton,” I say with a gasp, “maybe we should take this conversation somewhere more private?” Like Vermont.
But the damage is already done. The music suddenly seems too loud, the laughter too sharp, and the Christmas lights overhead flicker with what sounds suspiciously like an electrical warning.
Something tells me this holiday celebration is about to become memorable for all the wrong reasons.
CHAPTER 3
The Crown Jewel Lounge has descended into a Christmas-themed civil war, complete with battle lines drawn between the champagne fountain and the gingerbread village.
The scent of pine garlands mingles with gardenia perfume and rising tension, while “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” plays with the aggressive cheer of someone determined to maintain holiday spirit despite the brewing catastrophe. Crystal chandeliers cast dramatic shadows across faces flushed with anger, embarrassment, and what I’m pretty sure is scandalous excitement.
“You cannot seriously expect me to delete these photos,” Seraphina announces, holding her phone like a weapon as she faces off against Peyton near the chocolate fountain. Her platinum hair gleams under the lights as she types with one hand while speaking. “This is newsworthy content. My followers deserve to know what passes for high society in backwater Maine.”
“Backwater?” Peyton’s voice rises an octave, her chestnut hair practically pulsating with indignation. “This is the most exclusive country club north of Boston, you social media parasite!”
Oh, this is getting good,Cricket mewls from her perch on a velvet ottoman, her green eyes tracking the drama like it’s the best entertainment she’s seen all week. And it might be.I bet all the catnip I own that the hoomans are about to start throwing things.
Should I hide the breakable ornaments?Rookie asks, his golden head tilting as Mr. Jolly Beary bounces on his back with each nervous step. Jolly Beary would be the stuffed teddy bear both he and Cricket share, and mostly fight over.Because that angry lady looks like she might start chucking Christmas decorations—and worse yet, food!
“Ladies, ladies!” Diva Divine Temptation enters into the fray, her platinum hair piled high and her voice carrying enough authority to bring a prison riot into submission. She’s wearing a red dress that looks painted on—and it’s as if the artist ran out of paint, too. “Surely, we can resolve this like civilized adults. After all, we’re all here to celebrate the season of giving—and I do mean giving.” She winks at the crowd, who collectively gasp and giggle.
