Page 35 of Winter Magic at Hollybrae Castle

He laughs that self-conscious, embarrassed laugh like he knows I mean it but he doesn’t believe it. He’s wearing a black suit that’s even smarter than his usual workwear, and a bowtie instead of a regular tie, and although he looks gorgeous, he looks nowhere near as attractive as he does in an oversized hoodie and socks that jingle.

It might be nice to have a reason to get dressed up once in a while, but I already can’t wait to get home later, especially to get out of these heels.

We go over our backstory on the hour’s drive to the office, and he keeps glancing over at me while driving, and I’m trying not to think about how the silky material of his suit trousers would feel under my fingers. When we arrive, he races round to help me out of the car, and walking in with my hand through his arm makes me feel ten feet tall, even though my heels are only four inches.

A conference room at the office has been cleared of furniture, apart from a buffet table filled with a spread of pigs in blankets, sausage rolls, brie and cranberry swirls, mini quiches, and vol-au-vents. The food options are much fancier than the décor, which consists of nothing more than a sad-looking Christmas tree decorated with threadbare gold tinsel and fairy lights that are flickering with age rather than intention.

My dark hair is straightened and held back at one side with a glittery red bow, and Ollie holds it aside to murmur into my ear. His voice, so low and so deep, along with his lips brushing against the shell of my ear sends a tingle down my spine that’s impossible to hide.

‘That’s Dand Brenton and his wife Orla,’ he says as a couple approach us.

‘Dand?’

‘Short form of Andrew,’ he hisses quickly, without a chance to say anything more before they’re on top of us.

‘Don’t tell me this is the infamous Lucy!’ Orla has hauled me away from him and is holding my shoulders and peering at me like I might disappear at any moment. ‘We thought for sure he was single and he’d completely invented you!’

‘Nope, I’m here.’ The nerves return and I sound like a school child in morning registration, especially when I let out a wholly unnecessary peal of laughter at the idea of not being real. Imagine that.

Dand Brenton finishes shaking Ollie’s hand and comes over to shake mine as well. ‘It’s beyond a thrill to finally meet you. What a delight. No wonder Oliver’s been keeping you all to himself.’

‘I’m glad to have finally made it,’ I stutter as everything we rehearsed immediately leaves my head.

They’re both in their fifties. Dand is short with dark hair and is the definition of rich and subtly wanting everyone to know it, from the designer logo prominently displayed on the lapel of his classic suit to the flashy gold jewellery. Orla is much taller than her husband with poker-straight blonde hair. She’s wearing a mini dress that looks like it’s made of liquid silver and carrying a clutch bag that probably cost more than a year’s London rent.

Ollie reaches out and takes my hand. ‘Yes, this is Lucy. My darling wife has finally had a chance to join us tonight.’

‘We should celebrate!’ Orla apprehends a waiter with a tray of filled glasses, takes two off for her and Dand, and then invites us to do the same. ‘Champagne?’

‘I’m driving.’ Ollie holds a hand up when she tries to insist.

‘Lucy?’

‘No, thanks, I’m… driving in solidarity,’ I say. The one thing I must do tonight is keep a clear head, which is already a bit fuzzy solely from Ollie’s aftershave and the way he keeps squeezing my hand.

‘Oliver!’

‘And this is Halston Galligan and Michelle.’ Ollie bends down to whisper quickly in my ear again.

‘This is never Lucy!’ Michelle embraces me in a cloud of curly brown hair and orange-scented perfume. ‘You exist! We were certain he’d made you up!’

She air kisses me on both cheeks and pulls back far enough to look at me, but instead of it being in a judgemental way, I really do feel like they’re struggling to get over the surprise of actually meeting me.

‘What a lovely couple you make. After all this time, it really is a privilege to meet Oliver’s wife!’ Halston shakes my hand too. His greying hair perfectly matches his understated silvery-grey suit and general air of stillness next to Dand’s energy.

I mumble a thank you. My other hand is still in Ollie’s and I take a step back so I’m standing next to him, our arms pressing against each other’s, and he squeezes my fingers again.

‘How convenient that our party didn’t clash with your parents’ visit this year,’ Dand says.

‘Ah yes, down south. In England.’ For absolutely no reason, I play up my English accent and it comes out sounding like I’ve stepped out of a Regency novel.

He and Orla share a confused look. ‘I was under the impression they came here? We’ve told Oliver to invite them along many times!’

‘Oh, yes, right, from down south, obviously,’ I correct myself. ‘And then I go to visit them at Christmas with the children while Ollie joins you on the Christmas break.’

‘Never much of a break though, is it?’ Michelle rolls her eyes and has another sip from her glass of wine.

‘I must say, Lucy, those are a bold footwear choice with your ankle.’ Orla’s eyes run down my dress to my feet.