Page 208 of Filthy Rich Santas

My eyes go wide. I saw it there, of course, but didn’t give it much thought, assuming it was another ornament. The edges are trimmed with a thin border of white faux fur, giving it a cozy, Santa-like appearance, and a sprig of fresh pine is tucked into the corner, secured by a tiny golden bell that jingles softly as Tristan hands it to me.

“What’s this?” I ask, my heart filling with warmth as I turn it over in my hands.

“Open it,” Ryder urges.

The envelope isn’t a standard size. Instead, it’s perfectly square and fits in my palm. It’s also strangely heavy for such a small thing.

The flap is sealed with a wax stamp in the shape of a Christmas tree, and I slide my finger under it, loosening it carefully.

Once I get it open, I turn it upside down, and a single key falls out, attached to an adorable keychain in the shape of a painter’s palette with an address engraved on the back.

“What is this?” I look up at them, my brow furrowed.

“Can I see, Auntie Lana?” Oliver asks, leaning over my shoulder. “Pretty! It’s like the paints you got me. Do you wanna paint with me?”

“Sure, honey,” I tell him, turning and giving him a butterfly kiss on his cheek.

He giggles, which makes Baldwin yip with excitement and hop around at his feet.

“I’d like to see you do a lot of painting,” Beckett says quietly as Oliver gets distracted by Baldwin. “We all would.”

“Which is why we bought you an art studio back in L.A.,” Tristan adds.

My jaw drops. “You… what?”

“An art studio space,” Ryder repeats. “A place where you can create and showcase your work.”

I’m speechless. Shocked. My art has always just been a hobby, and they…

“Youboughtit for me? But… why?”

Beckett’s deep voice rumbles with emotion. “We wanted you to be able to pursue your creativity the way you’ve always wanted to. The way it deserves.”

“You’re incredibly talented, love,” Ryder adds, no sign of joking on his face at all.

“But…” I shake my head, overwhelmed. Then I blurt, “You’re leaving L.A.”

I bite my lip, my heart clenching. Deciding to make this thing real between us is so new, and so much has happened in such a short time that none of us have talked about the future. And as amazing as this gift is, I’m not sure I’ll want to be pursuing my art in L.A. once they move to a different city.

Tristan’s eyes soften, as if he can read my mind. “We decided to invest in this instead of the new club.”

“Wait,what?” I clutch the little key to my chest, staring at the three of them incredulously. “You’re not opening the new club? The one you’ve been planning? The one you were going to move for?”

“Nope,” Ryder says with a half grin.

Tristan grins too. “Not right now, at least. Maybe in the future, but we’ve got other priorities at the moment.”

“We’re going to focus on expanding Radiance in L.A. for now,” Beckett rumbles.

“But—”

“No buts,” Ryder interrupts me. “Supporting your artistic venture is more important to us right now.”

Beckett leans closer, his eyes intense. “You’re so talented, little menace. The world deserves to see your work.”

I feel tears welling up in my eyes. All my life, my family has dismissed my love for art as a “little hobby,” pushing me toward what they considered a “real” job. But Beckett, Ryder, and Tristan clearly don’t see it that way.

I swallow, glancing down at the key in my hand—a key to my future, to my dreams. Proof that these men believe in those dreams. Inme.

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