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But I do reward him with a genuine smile, one that expresses just how much I enjoyed our night together. I clamber off the pool table and quickly stoop to slip on my panties and bra. Then I shrug into my nurse’s outfit and zip it.
“Well, boys, this was very fun,” I say, my skin flushed with the memory of our time together.
They all slow in their various states of undress, their eyes watching me as I scoop up my stockings, heels, and nurse’s hat. Then I blow them a quick kiss, turn the deadbolt, and slip from the room without a backward glance.
That will undoubtedly go down in history as one of the best nights of my life, some of the most intense pleasure I will ever know. But I never intend to bring it up to anyone outside that room.
And if I give it long enough, I’m sure they’ll let it go and move on too. I’ll make excuses not to come to Daddy’s yearly Christmas retreat, and by next year, everyone will have forgotten about my naughty, forbidden night.
1
MIA
Istep out of the taxi and onto the snowy driveway of my father’s magnificent Aspen Christmas retreat. The grand mansion stands tall, draped in festive lights and decorations, and covered with an idyllic layer of glistening white. It’s always been a place of extravagant holiday gatherings, but this year, my visit holds a secret that could change everything.
My gloved hand rests on the almost imperceptible curve of my belly, a constant reminder of the life growing inside me. I’ve had some time to wrap my head around the fact that I’m pregnant—a few weeks to truly consider what this means for my future and that of the baby in my belly.
It’s the consequence of that wild Halloween foursome, a night filled with passion and an overdose of reckless abandon. Now, my resolve is unwavering—I want to keep this child. It’s my responsibility and my choice, no matter what others may say.
The challenge lies in the fact that, since that night, I haven’t spoken with the man responsible, not to mention I have no clue which of the three men it is.
And there’s another complication—my father. He’ll be furious to find out that I had slept with one of his friends. But more than that, I can only imagine what he’ll have to say about how I’ve ruined my future now. Getting pregnant when I’m not even in a relationship? In his generation, that’s like admitting to being a prostitute.
Needless to say, it’s not a conversation I’m eager to have.
But I’ve devised a plan. Here, at my father’s Christmas retreat, surrounded by holiday cheer and goodwill, I’ll approach one of the three men I spent Halloween with and convince him that he’s the father of my child, that it’s his duty to commit to me and support our baby. At least then, when I tell Daddy, he’ll be more likely to accept my choice.
As I make my way to the front door, I consider my options. Zachary, the single father, would be the most logical choice. He’s kind, responsible, and has already proven himself as a good father. Starting with him seems like the safest bet. Though I know him least well, I know the stories of him and my father growing up. He’s the conscience of the group, the one who will meet my conundrum with a sense of compassion. It doesn’t hurt that he looks like Johnny Depp from 21 Jump Street with his swept-back curls and dark, perceptive eyes.
Then there’s Luke, my dad’s business partner and a very successful businessman. He can offer financial security and dependability. He doesn’t have Zach’s crazy ex-wife to take into consideration, and after forty-odd years as a workaholic bachelor, he’s done nothing but rake in money and grow his empire. He’s the best candidate to help me sustain my lifestyle of choice. Not to mention he has Southern charm for days and a body built from a lifetime of healthy habits and hard work. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, and his powerful physique showcases that perfectly.
Last but certainly not least is Cilian, the man I’ve had a crush on for most of my life. He’s the wild card, the one I doubt would settle down even if I claimed the baby was his. But that Irish accent is to die for, not to mention those green eyes that remind me of just how intelligent he is. He’s the complete package—the looks, the wealth, the charm. If I were confident I could rely on him, I would pick him in a second. But Cilian is known for his playboy ways. I can’t imagine him wanting to settle down to be the father of my child.
As I reach the towering front door, my phone dings, alerting me to an incoming message. And when I pull my phone from my lined cream-and-caramel-plaid pea coat, I find I’ve received a text from my dad.
The weather in New York has grounded all flights. Even my pilot insists it’s too bad for my plane to take off. I’ll be delayed by a few days. Preparations are in place. The staff knows the schedule and which meals to have prepared when. But I will need you to host in my stead until I can arrive. I have complete confidence in your abilities in that regard. See you soon, my dear.
I sigh, knowing that my time to put my plan into action has just been impinged upon considerably. It’s a lot easier to scheme when no one’s supposed to be watching me. This will mean more days of uncertainty and anxiety, but I can’t back out now. I have to lock down a father for my child, and I’ve set Christmas day as my deadline to tell Daddy.
Won’t that be an unexpected gift?
But I know that telling him on Christmas is my best chance of softening the blow. My dad has always been about the holiday spirit—of the joy it inspires and the magic of bringing families together. So an unexpected grandchild might seem like less of a bomb and more of a present on the festive occasion. At least that’s what I hope.
As I step into the house, warmth and comfort envelop me. The scents of pine and freshly baked gingerbread fill the air. Every room is lavishly decorated with ivy and garland and twinkling lights that make it impossible to forget the time of year. A real Christmas tree occupies one corner of each room, all the perfect size for their designated location and decorated with a special theme that suits the space.
Guests will start to arrive soon, and the staff has preparations for the welcome party in full swing, giving the house a bustling atmosphere. Behind me, the door opens as the butler brings in my bags. As I head to the living room to see if anyone arrived early, he carries my luggage to my designated room.
My heart skips a beat as my eyes land on one lone figure, his broad shoulders filling the tall window he stands before, the light silhouetting his impressive frame. He turns when I enter the room, my heels announcing my presence before I do.
Luke unleashes a dashing smile as his sea-blue eyes twinkle. “Mia, I was hoping I might have the opportunity to see you before others arrive.”
The words shouldn’t send a thrill through my body the way they do, but knowing he came early in the hopes of speaking with me fills me with an intense sense of relief. It means he’s been thinking about me since Halloween, despite my leaving with no explanation or attempt at closure.
My behavior that night feels so rash now, so reckless and carefree compared to the life-changing choices that have stemmed from it. I can only imagine what Luke will think.
“It’s wonderful to see you,” I say, striding across the expanse of the living room to greet him properly.
He pulls me into a hug—something he’s never done before—and the masculine scents of leather and motor oil fill my nose, making my stomach tremble.How have I known Luke for so many years and only just noticed how gorgeous he is, how manly and strong? Are my hormones starting to take control of my brain? Or has he always been this attractive?
