Page 19 of Filthy Rich Santas

Empathy flashes over Lana’s face. “You seemed to really love it,” she says softly.

“I did,” he says, his smile turning a little easier. “And you’re right, I definitely had NHL aspirations back when Caleb and I used to play together. There was just no way after the accident, though.” He grimaces, reflexively rubbing at some of his scars. “I could still play, and I do still like to get out on the ice sometimes, but the rods in my leg are never going to be as stable as they’d need to be for me to go pro.”

He hardly ever talks about the car accident that took his mother’s life and left him to be raised by his Grandma Meg. I know he worked his fucking ass off in rehab to regain mobility, and I respect the hell out of him for making that happen. And Lana probably doesn’t realize it, but it says a lot that he’s opening up to her even this much.

“Anyway, after I made peace with giving up hockey, I needed something else to focus on.”

“And you chose a business degree,” Ryder cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Fucking boring.”

Lana laughs. “Well, I’m sure it serves you well as a business owner, right?”

“Right,” Tristan says, grinning at her in the rearview mirror. “I wasn’t actually sure what I was going to do with it at first, but?—”

“But then after trying to demonstrate some knots for us after half a dozen shots of Tequila…” Ryder waggles his eyebrows.

“Knots?” Lana asks.

“Shibari.” Tristan brakes a little when a Prius changes lanes in front of us with no blinker. “Asshole,” he mutters before glancing back at Lana in the rearview mirror again. “It’s Japanese rope bondage.”

“I know.” Lana’s cheeks go pink again. “I mean, I’ve… I’ve seen some videos. It looks, um, interesting?”

She bites her lip, that pink flush spreading down her neck, and fucking hell. Bondage isn’t really my kink, but I’d suddenly give anything to see her lush body wrapped in Tristan’s silky ropes.

I subtly adjust my cock again, glad her attention is so fully taken by Tristan at the moment.

“So the three of us basically came up with a business plan?—”

“The night you were drinking Tequila?” she asks with a cheeky grin.

Ryder laughs. “You know it. We’ve still got the napkins these two sketched out the initial ideas on.”

He jerks a thumb in my direction, and Lana looks over at me. “So you jumped right in?”

I clear my throat. “Tristan asked for my opinion about opening a club. I heard him out, and just pointed out that the three of us don’t just have different kinks, we also have different strengths that could all benefit the venture if it was something we wanted to get into together.”

“Which of course we did,” Tristan says, glancing over his shoulder at me for a second to shoot me a smile.

Ryder laughs. “Pointed out? Quit underplaying it, Beckett. Those napkins are basically a full-blown business plan. Tristan knew what he was doing when he brought the idea up to you. Business is in your blood.”

That’s true, and of course I’m glad my background has helped make Radiance successful for the three of us. I still scowl at him though, because I have no interest in being associated with my father’s business empire and could do without the reminder of how I earned my business education.

Not the degree I eventually got, but therealeducation.

Not that I can ever forget the weight of expectation I grew up with. It was always understood that I’d carry on the family business. I was groomed for it from birth, and it really is in my blood. But no matter how much I excelled, there was never any pleasing the asshole whose name I carry.

My father’s relentless criticism and general toxicity were a dark weight I shrugged off as soon as I was old enough to make my way in the world, and cutting ties with him and everything he represents is the best thing I’ve ever done.

“Well, that’s probably useful,” Lana says gently, resting a soft hand on my arm for a second.

The touch zings right to my dick, and I grunt, subtly moving away from her. “Sure. I needed something to build toward and work on,” I say with a shrug that completely downplays how fucking important the club has been in my life. “I was kind of aimless after turning down a position with my father’s company.”

It’s a pretty tame way of describing the brutal argument between us that finally led to me walking out and never looking back, but Lana doesn’t need to hear all that. Hell, the gory details aren’t something I’ve dumped on Tristan, Ryder, or Caleb, either.

In my experience, some things are best dealt with by shoving them out of sight and keeping them permanently out of mind.

The look Lana gives me almost makes me think she sees some of that anyway, and for a second, I have the strangest feeling that she’s using her artist’s eye to see right into my fucking soul.

Then she smiles at me and the tension breaks.

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