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I shook my head. “Oh, Ms. Young, it appears my family’s ruined you.”
Her lips turned up in a wide smile, and she tilted her head. I tried to read the sly look on her face, but I wasn’t ready for her reply. “And you? When will you ruin me?”
‘Now’ was the appropriate reply, but someone mentioned dinner in fifteen minutes.
“You’d better sober up before Santa comes tonight. You don’t want to be on his naughty list.”
She leaned in. “We both know it’s too late for me, unless you call what we did in the attic not naughty enough?”
She was playing with the fire that ignited in my dick.
“Oh, Ms. Young, I have so much to teach you.”
A few minutes later, everyone was gathering for dinner. She hopped off the stool, and I caught her by the elbow, leading the way to the long, rustic dining table, laden with a potluck-style feast that would rival any royal banquet. Each dish had a story to tell, from Aunt Marge’s legendary green bean casserole to the mouthwatering venison stew whipped up by one of the chefs on staff. Candles flickered in the dimly lit room, casting a warm glow. The scent of pine and cinnamon filled the air while laughter rang out in harmony.
Kensi sat across from me, beside Laura, her tiny legs swinging back and forth. She admired the twinkling lights above head, lifted her hand and pointed a finger, counting the bulbs.
“One, two, three...” I tuned out her voice and connected my gaze with Laura’s. She looked absolutely stunning. Her hair was tied up with loose strands hanging here and there. The up-do exposed her long neck, reminding me of where my lips had roamed over her skin. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. Every time she caught me looking, she would smile and bite her bottom lip, driving me wild. A twitch triggered in my pants. I wanted this woman like I’d never wanted another before.
“Can I have your attention, please?” my father boomed, his voice somehow cutting through the conversation and clinking tableware. My uncle stood beside him, both silver-haired patriarchs beaming with pride as they surveyed the room until it was finally quiet.
“First off,” my father began, “we want to thank all of you for joining us in celebrating another fantastic year here at the Silver Lodge. Your hard work and dedication have made Silver Brothers Securities what it is today—an unstoppable force.”
“Here, here!” Tristan’s dad chimed in, raising his glass in a toast. “We couldn’t be prouder of our sons and their growing empire. And let’s not forget the amazing team behind them”—he gestured to the other employees—“without whom, none of this would be possible.”
“Right you are, my brother,” my father continued. “It’s been a year of growth for all of us. We’ve expanded our services and reached new heights, all while maintaining the high standards we set for ourselves. So, grab a glass and raise it to the future of Silver Brothers Securities!”
“Cheers!” everyone chorused, raising their glasses in a toast.
“Cheers,” I echoed, lifting my glass—looking right at Laura, who sipped on a darker shade of eggnog.
“Is that with rum again?” I asked her.
“It is. Why?”
I saw my brother chuckling under his breath. Hunter was fucking enjoying this like the spoiled brat he was. Inconsiderate prick.
“Because I need you sober tonight,” I lowered my voice.
“It’s just a little spiced eggnog. Hunter makes them perfectly. Right Hunter?” She bumped her shoulder against my brother’s, who sat on her other side, lifted her glass to her lips, and winked like a devious vixen.
“Right,” he replied.
“Are you trying to get her drunk?” I asked him.
“A lady's glass should never be empty.”
“It’s all right, James. I can hold my own. I promise, I’m fine. Besides, I’m not driving home.”
I poured a glass of water and passed it to her. She seemed to converse well during dinner, helped Kensi with her portions, and answered all of my daughter’s questions about Santa, and she had three glasses of water before we finished dessert.
“Okay, everybody! It’s time for the annual Christmas skit.” My cousin Emma stood up from the table and started gathering the family by the fireplace. Kensi had her own part this year, and she hurried after her aunt.
“Come on, Young, I saved you a spot with the best view.”
I walked around the table, snaked my hand around her waist and led her to the comfortable lounge by the other fireplace. The spot had the perfect view of the skit. A group of kids, ranging in age from six to twelve, filed onto the makeshift stage.
Laura settled in, and I leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry, but I need to leave for a bit.”
