Page 24 of Silent Night Temptation

“I found out about him and Dad after we’d already been together for a while,” she admits, her voice breaking slightly.“And then, I saw those pictures of Ethan with his ex in the news. They were everywhere. I didn’t know I would feel as bad as I did. After all, it was just a fling. I wanted to end it. I tried to end it.”

She stops, her breath shaky. But when she looks up at me again, there’s something else in her eyes. It’s love, real and undeniable, even if it’s complicated.

“I couldn’t leave him,” she says, almost pleading with me to understand. “We love each other. It’s messy, but it’s real. And now… now I don’t know what to do, because I’m pregnant.”

The last word falls like a bomb between us. My heart skips a beat, and my eyes widen in shock. I wasn’t prepared for this.She’s pregnant?I feel like the air has been sucked out of the room, leaving only the gravity of her confession.

Coco stands there, her eyes searching mine, as if looking for some kind of reassurance. This is so much bigger than I imagined. It’s not just about her and Ethan anymore. It’s about life, choices, futures. And now, everything feels impossibly tangled, a web of emotions that none of us are ready for.

And yet in this moment I feel a strange sense of calm wash over me. There’s so much swirling in the air, confusion, tension, and yes, Marcus's inevitable anger. But beneath it all, I can’t help but feel joy for her. She’s going to be a mom. I look at her, this woman I’ve known for so long, and suddenly, I see her differently. She’s not just Marcus's daughter, not just my friend, she’s on the cusp of something incredible, something life-changing. I don’t even think she fully understands it yet. But I do. And even in the chaos, I let myself smile.

Without thinking, I reach out and pull her into a hug. It feels right. For a moment, we’re just two friends, no family drama, no looming tension, just us. And in that embrace, I allow myself to be happy for her, even if everything around us is so complicated. I whisper, “You’re going to be an amazing mom,” and I mean it, despite everything else that’s going on.

But then Marcus reappears, and the warmth of the moment quickly fades as the room fills with something colder and sharper. We gather around the table for Christmas dinner, but it’s anything but peaceful. The atmosphere is thick with unspoken grievances, and the tension is palpable, simmering just below the surface. Marcus sits at one end, his expression tight, and Ethan is at the other. His expression is poised and relaxed.

At first, the conversation is civil, but there’s an underlying edge to it, like we’re all tiptoeing around a landmine. Ethan starts with a seemingly innocent comment about how his company has been “on the rise lately,” and I see Marcus's jaw tighten. I can sense it before it even happens. This is about to get ugly.

Marcus fires back, his tone casual but laced with venom. “Well, when you undercut everyone else, I suppose it’s easy to rise.” It’s a direct hit, and Ethan knows it. He swallows hard, his eyes wandering for a moment as if trying to pick the right words.

“I’d call it smart business, Marcus. I would've hoped you would understand,” Ethan finally replies, his voice smooth, almost earnest, but it does not quell the simmering rigidity in the air.

The conversation goes on, as uncomfortable as ever, mostly centered around business talk, but the tension is growing, thickening like a storm cloud over the table. Ethan is calm, but Marcus is clearly fighting to keep his composure. Every time Ethan mentions another “win” for his company, Marcus tightens his grip on his fork just a little more, his knuckles whitening.

It’s when Ethan brings up the senator's deal, apparently an exclusive contract that Marcus's company had been after for months, that things really start to spiral. “The senator was impressed with our pitch,” Ethan says, his voice almostgleaming with pride. “It’s the biggest deal we’ve landed so far. I’m really proud of it.”

He pauses, noting the change in Marcus's expression, the anger clearer than ever on his face. “…I heard you were after that deal. I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Ethan adds, there’s a sincerity in his tone, as if willing Marcus's rage to dissipate, but it doesn’t work.

Marcus doesn’t explode, but I can see it’s taking everything in him not to. His reply is measured, but there’s no mistaking the anger simmering beneath the surface. “Politics and favors,” he says, voice low. “It won’t last forever.”

I sit there, caught in the middle of it all, unsure of how to react. The tension between them is so thick, I can almost feel it choking me. I glance at Coco, who is staring at her plate, her face a mask of quiet discomfort. This isn’t how I imagined Christmas dinner would go. But here we are, and I don’t know how, or when, it’s going to end.

I stand, offering to help with the dishes, hoping to lighten the mood or at least create some distance from the simmering hostility. “I’ll take care of the dishes,” I say, my voice soft but firm, trying to bring some normalcy back into the room. Marcus looks at me, his eyes momentarily softening, but I can tell his mind is elsewhere. He’s focused on the man across the table and on the daughter he’s watching slip further away from him.

Just as I’m about to collect the plates, Ethan pushes his chair back with a stretch. “Thanks, Nyree. I think Coco and I will head up to our room,” he says, his voice casual. He locks eyes with Marcus, and for a fleeting second, it looks like he wants to speak. But he just sighs and makes to leave the table.

Coco follows suit, glancing briefly at me before standing and slipping her hand into Ethan’s. “We’re going to turn in,” she says, her voice quiet, almost hesitant, but she’s determined.She’s made her decision, and no amount of tension or disapproval is going to make her change her mind.

I catch Marcus's reaction before he can fully mask it. His face stiffens, his jaw clenches so tightly I swear I can hear it grind. His hands are still resting on the table, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of his chair, the force of his anger barely contained. But he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t protest. He just sits there, watching his daughter walk away, hand in hand with the man he despises.

As Coco and Ethan leave the room, I can see the fury in Marcus's eyes. It’s not loud or explosive, but it’s burning hot and deep inside him, barely hidden behind the calm exterior he’s struggling to maintain. He watches them as they disappear down the hallway, leading to the room they’ll share tonight. It’s like I can feel his heartbreak mingling with rage. His little girl, the one he’s tried to protect all her life, is walking willingly into the arms of a man he sees as his enemy, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

I can’t stand to see him like this, broken and brimming with fury, the pain so clearly etched into his face. The sight pulls something deep inside of me, something that makes my chest ache with empathy. I don’t know what to do, but I know I can’t just stand here and do nothing.

So I move closer, instinct guiding me as I reach out, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. Beneath my touch, I can feel him stiffen up, but it doesn’t make me pull away. He looks up at me, his eyes raw with emotion. I don’t have any words to offer that would make this better, but I try to let my expression speak for me. I offer him a soft, warm smile, one I hope carries some comfort in it, even if it’s the smallest balm for his hurt.

For a long moment, he just glares at me. And then, slowly, he stands. Without thinking, I step forward and wrap my arms around him. It’s a quiet embrace, but it holds so much. I feel therigidness in his posture, the way his body resists softening into the hug at first, like the anger in him is too great to melt away just yet. But I don’t let go, not even when his body remains stiff. Eventually, slowly, he gives in, his muscles easing beneath my touch as he lets himself fall into the warmth of the embrace.

When we pull apart, it’s gradual. For a second, I think that’s all it will be, a moment of solace shared between us. But then, suddenly, his lips crash against mine. The kiss is immediate, intense, and breathtaking. I’m lost in it. His mouth moves with an urgency that takes my breath away. His kiss is filled with a raw, desperate hunger.

His hands grip my body, pulling me against him as if I’m the only thing keeping him grounded. His kiss deepens, his tongue pressing urgently into my mouth, exploring and demanding. My heart races, my skin tingles, and I can’t stop the way my body trembles under his touch, responding instinctively to the intensity of his need.

When he finally pulls away, I’m left gasping for air, my chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch up with the whirlwind of emotions. His breath is heavy too. His eyes are locked on mine, and in them, I see nothing but raw and unfiltered desire. It’s so intense that it sends a shiver down my spine, the kind that makes me both nervous and exhilarated all at once.

“I need you,” he says, his voice rough and low, strained with the weight of his emotions. There’s a fire in his words, a desperation that clings to them.

I’m breathless, unable to form words as his hand finds my arm. His grip is gentle yet undeniably firm, guiding me without hesitation toward the pantry. My mind is a blur, a whirlwind of anticipation and desire so thick it chokes out any rational thought. The moment we step inside the pantry, everything becomes frantic, charged with an intensity that borders on desperation. He spins me around, his hands working swiftly,tugging at my trousers with a pulsating urgency. My body responds instantly, coiling with anticipation as I feel the cool air against my skin.

Before I can process what’s happening, he pulls me apart with his hands, spreading me open to him. Then I feel it…his mouth, hot and demanding, pressing against me from behind. His tongue slips inside me, tasting me with a hunger that steals my breath away. I lean forward, my body arching instinctively, surrendering to the rhythm he sets. His hands guiding me, holding me in place as he devours me. Each stroke of his tongue is deep, a feast that seems to consume him entirely.

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