Page 5 of Silent Night Temptation

Theodora swallows hard. Her composure slipping as she stands there, visibly uncomfortable. “I’m told it’s not necessarily a better option, sir, but a less expensive one.”

“Who?” I ask, the edge in my voice now unmistakable, pressing, and demanding.

She hesitates. Sweat is forming on her brow. Her fingers clutch the papers tighter, almost as if the name itself is something she wishes she didn’t have to utter.

“It’s… Carter Enterprises, sir,” she finally manages, the words almost timid, as though afraid to provoke me.

Ethan. Fucking. Carter.

The name lingers in the room, sour and sharp. Of course it’s him. It’s always him, circling like a vulture at the first sign of hesitation, swooping in to undercut, to undermine. A rival in every sense, and now this. A crucial deal is slipping through our fingers into his grasp.

There was a time when business had unspoken rules, when rivals operated with a mutual respect. If you got your foot in the door first, that was that. Everyone knew to step back and prepare for the next opportunity. We fought hard, but there were lines we didn’t cross.

Not Ethan Carter. The man has no boundaries and no regard for the game, as it used to be played. He slithers his way into deals that aren’t his to take, ignoring the unspoken agreements that once defined this industry.

He’s been a thorn in my side for years now. Always circling and always trying to worm his way into contracts I’ve spent years building. The exclusive deals with countries and corporations I’ve had long-standing relationships with. He’s tried to undercut me on all fronts. Not every door has yielded to his cheap tactics, but enough to have. And it pisses me off.

This latest move is just another in a long string of offenses. Somehow, he’s got the senator to throw me out after months of negotiation. Months of work undone in a heartbeat. It doesn’t feel like he’s just swooping in on an opportunity anymore. It almost feels personal. It feels like he’s trying to get under my skin, to irritate me as much as he can, as if his success depends not on winning, but on making me lose.

“You can leave, Theodora,” I say, keeping my voice measured, not wanting her to witness the anger simmering just beneath the surface. She nods quickly, not needing any further encouragement. She walks out with a quiet efficiency. Her footsteps faintly echo as she fades away down the hallway. The tension in the room seems to thicken once she’s gone. The space somehow is smaller with my rising frustration.

I stand and move toward the whiskey waiting on the sideboard, the amber liquid catching the light as I pour a glass. I down it in one quick motion, letting the burn of the alcohol anchor me, and dulling the edge of my temper, if only for a moment.

It’s almost like I can see Ethan’s smug face, grinning and savoring this victory. The thought of it alone fuels the anger, stoking the fire that threatens to rise again.

I move back to my seat and sink into it. The liquor is still burning gently in my chest. The last few weeks of relentless work have left me worn, and though this setback with the senator has soured my mood, it doesn’t take away from the fact that we’re in good shape. We’ve done excellent work, and for once, thehorizon looks clear enough to grant us a break. The holidays are long overdue, and I already lean into the thought of a few quiet weeks away from the rush.

Just then, my phone beeps, pulling me from my thoughts. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I glance at the screen. It’s Coco, my daughter. The sound of her name alone is enough to ease the tension still lingering in my mind.

“Hey, Dad,” her voice comes through the speaker, light and fresh, like a breath of air in a stifling room. In an instant, the frustration that had threatened to consume me only moments ago seems to melt away.

“Hey, Kiddo,” I reply, my tone softening. “Getting ready for the holidays?”

“Yes, Dad. Ready as can be.”

“Good,” I say, leaning back into my chair, my mood brightening by the second. “I can’t wait to see you at the vacation house.”

“Can’t wait to see you too, Dad... I have a little favor to ask, though,” Coco says, her voice taking on a note of hesitation.

“What might that be?” I ask, curiosity sparking.

“Can I bring a friend with me to the vacation house? I’d like her to spend Christmas with us.”

Her question catches me off guard. Christmas has always been family time, something we’ve kept close, and Coco has never asked to bring anyone along before. I feel my brow arch as I process the request.

“Who is this friend, Kiddo?” I ask, my tone betraying a hint of curiosity.

“Her name is Nyree. We’ve been friends for a long time. She’s a writer... and well, she’s had a rough time lately. She doesn’t really have anyone to spend the holidays with, and she’s been dealing with depression. I’m worried about her, Dad. I don’t want her to be alone for Christmas.”

As I listen to Coco, a quiet sympathy stirs within me. The image of her friend struggling through the season alone, touches something deep. And there’s pride too, a hint of admiration for my daughter’s kindness. For the way she’s grown into someone so thoughtful, so considerate of others.

“That’s fine, Kiddo,” I say after a pause. “She can spend Christmas with us.”

“Thanks, Dad! I love you!” she exclaims, the relief and joy in her voice lifting my heart.

“I love you too, Kiddo,” I reply, a warmth spreading through me as I end the call. The earlier frustrations have all but dissolved, replaced by the comforting thought of Christmas with my daughter, and now, a new guest who needs a bit of the warmth we can offer.

My thoughts linger on Coco. She lives in a different city now, but I still keep a watchful eye on her, always close, even from a distance. She’s the jewel of my life; she has been since the very moment she was born. I close my eyes, and that memory, the day she came into this world, returns to me like it always does, bittersweet and indelible.

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