Page 4 of Silent Night

Bentley turns and grabs another glass from the cabinet before pouring a large amount of liquor into it and sliding it across the island toward me. I take it, accepting his peace offering, but drink nothing more than a tiny sip, preferring to remain sober around him.

“So, what happened? How’d our parents fuck you over?”

“Mom convinced me to come this year. When I got off the plane, I got her voice mail saying she and your father are skipping the holidays to go down south ‘til the twenty-eighth. What’s your story?”

He scoffs and refills his own glass before taking another shot, and I wonder how many of those he’s already had. “Sounds like your mom. No offense, but she’s a piece of work.”

“None taken.”

“Dad basically played the same bullshit game with me. After denying him a dozen times, I finally agreed, and look...” His hands spread dramatically to the side. “I’m fuckin’ here, aren’t I? Arrived a couple hours ago to an empty house. Messaged him, and he said he and your mother took off for a last-minute vacation. At least your mother had the decency to give you a bit of a head’s up. I had to chase my father for answers.”

Dislike of Bentley aside, there’s relief in knowing we both got screwed over.

“Wonderful,” I mutter. “Well, I’m stuck here ‘til the twenty-seventh because it was the first flight I could get on, and they’ll be back the day after. By then, you’ll have to return to work.” I’m assuming that his job in finance is demanding because Mom claims he’s always too busy to come for dinner. “So you may as well head out now.” The plea in my tone must be unmissable. He lives about an hour away, so he can get home by bedtime.

Bentley grins around his glass. “See, when I showed up, that was the plan. I was going to drink myself stupid on Dad’s expensive shit, pass out ‘til morning, and then drive home tomorrow. But now...” His eyes rakeme, settling on the low dip of my top. “I might stick around for a few days. Gotta protect baby sis and all that.”

Fuck.“Please.” Ideally my scoff hides the shakiness in my tone. “We’re basically the same age.”

“Still older,” he argues.

“I’m also not a child in need of protection, so I’ll be fine. Go home.”Please go home. Right now. Drive off. Leave me.

His eyes rake over me again, his salacious smirk making me want to curl up and die. “Nah, Christmas is looking up for the first time in years.” He drops his glass to the counter with a thud I feel through my entire form. “It’s cold out there, so we’ll remain warm and cozy in here. I’d be a dick to leave you alone on the holidays like our parents did.”

No, it’d be your greatest gift.“It’s fine,” I urge as a last stab. “I’ll be fine.”

He comes around the counter and I manage a tiny step back. Small enough, hopefully he doesn’t notice, but based on the way his gaze flicks to my feet and back, he did. He takes a larger step this time, his grin telling me he doesn’t care about my attempted escape.

“Bentley, I’m tired and not in the mood.”

He stops with only inches between us, looking down at me, the same way I picture he does his clients. “Who said you had to be in the mood?”

Why did that sound like a greater threat?

“Bentley,” I say in a firm warning tone.

His malicious stare breaks and he bops me on the nose as he continues by me. “Relax, lil’ sis. I’m just fuckin’ with you. Hungry? I’ll order us something.”

“Pizza’s fine,” I reply to his retreating back. Until he stops playing nice, or whatever his version of that is, I’ll be cordial at the very least. Enough to get past Christmas and get the hell out of here.

Bentley makes a sign with his hand to show me he’s heard me. Once he’s gone for a few minutes, I abandon the kitchen with a sigh to lug my bag upstairs. On my way to the foyer, I pass him seated in the luxuriousliving room on one of the couches that no one actually sits in, the massive tree in front of the even larger window, talking on the phone. This house is like something on TV, and yet, everything Mom for some reason chases.

Skipping by before he has a chance to say anything, I drag my heavy suitcase up the carpeted steps and to the room Dean assigned me last year. With a regretful stare at the door across from mine, I realize I’ll have to spend the night directly across from Bentley.

I shiver. Hopefully for everything he says, he actually is fucking with me. That his implied threats are simply that: threats, and he’ll stay on his side of the hallway.

I open the door to my room, praying to see a lock on the inside, but there’s unfortunately none. I drop my suitcase in the centre of the decently sized room, only equipped with minimal furniture, exactly as a guest room would be. A queen-sized bed covered in a red comforter is in the centre, a nightstand on either side. Across is a dresser I suspect to be empty, with a flatscreen TV on top. It’s like a hotel room, which is essentially what this place feels like.

I crouch down to unzip my suitcase, pulling out the first lounge clothing I find, ones that’ll cover me even more than what I’m presently wearing. I stand, pulling my shirt, gross from travelling, off and toss it to the floor when the slow clapping makes its way to me.

Shit, I forgot to close the door.

I spin, clutching my new shirt to my chest, finding Bentley leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, one foot over the other. He winks when I face him before pushing off the frame and entering my room, bearing down on me like the predator I suspect him to be.

“I came up to let you know pizza will be here in about twenty minutes, and certainly wasn’t expecting this.” He doesn’t hide the fact that his eyes graze every inch of me that is bare, and I try my best to spread my shirt to cover more of my skin, all without lifting my arms.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?”

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