Page 40 of Rafferty

“Pretty spectacular, right?” he murmurs.

“I’ve never been to a house like this. Never known anyone this wealthy. It boggles.”

“Well, as you saw at Stone’s wedding, Brienne is as down-to-earth as they come, so just relax and have fun tonight.”

As we approach the entrance, the grandeur intensifies. The front door opens, a liveried butler awaiting our arrival. Laughter spills out with the sound of Christmas music released into the night. We step inside and are immediately enveloped by the festive cacophony and warmth of the party.

After depositing our coats with the man who opened the door, we walk around the large rooms. The mansion’s interior is even more breathtaking than the outside. Crystal chandeliers dangle from the high ceilings, each one alight with countless Edison bulbs that cast a soft, golden glow over the festivities. The floor beneath our feet is a polished marble mosaic that reflects the twinkling lights and vibrant decorations. Dark, paneled walls lined with elaborate crown moldings are adorned with pine-scented garlands and twinkling fairy lights that snake around the room, adding a magical touch to the already stunning décor.

I soak in every meticulously crafted detail, from the hand-etched trim moldings that depict intricate patterns of flora to the luxurious silk rugs underfoot, each one a splash of color and craftsmanship.

The furniture is all heavy and traditional, richly carved and upholstered in sumptuous fabrics, and looks more like art than seating. Massive oil paintings, each one deserving of a spot in a gallery, hang on the walls, their ornate frames as impressive as the art they enclose. What little I know of Brienne Norcross is that she’s more Renaissance woman than old-fashioned mogul, so it’s hard to imagine her living in what amounts to a museum. Still, it’s beyond magnificent to behold.

The main hall is dominated by a majestic Christmas tree that stretches toward the ceiling. It’s lavishly decorated with silver and gold ornaments, ribbons, and a shimmering star on top that competes with the chandelier for brilliance. Underneath, a sea of beautifully wrapped gifts promised joy and surprises, and Rafferty had explained that Brienne is now stepmom to Drake’s three little boys.

Rafferty leads me through the crowd, past a group robustly singing carols around a grand piano, their voices filling the hall. I’m still in awe, my eyes roaming over the details of the house, each one more impressive than the last.

His hand is warm in mine, squeezing gently as we pause to take it all in. “Not a bad place for a Christmas party, huh?” he murmurs, his breath warm against my cheek.

“Not bad at all,” I agree, smoothing down my velvet dress, its deep green chosen to complement my eyes. Rafferty looks particularly sharp tonight in his tailored charcoal suit, the soft fabric catching the light as he moves.

We’re quickly spotted by the guys I’ve come to call Rafferty’s Crew since they rallied around us during the scheme to foil Tansy. Atlas and North approach, both holding expensive crystal highball glasses.

They each shake hands with Rafferty, which seems overly formal, but then again… this whole party is so glamorous. North leans in, kisses me on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Tempe.”

I blush over the fondness in his voice, touched by how easily they’ve accepted me. Rafferty told me tonight on the way over that he had texted his “crew” and told them there was no pretense anymore. That he and I were an official couple.

We chat for a few moments, Rafferty stepping away briefly to get us drinks. We’re eventually joined by King and Willa. “This beats office parties any day,” King jokes, eliciting a round of laughter.

“I’m admittedly a little dazzled,” I say as Rafferty’s arm comes around my lower back.

“Same,” Willa says, leaning toward me. “You and I are new to this, so let’s stick together.”

“I’m new too.” We turn to see Mazzy joining our group, Foster standing behind her. “Us girls need to stick together.”

“And so it begins,” Foster says dramatically.

“Not outnumbered, but totally outclassed,” Rafferty says, giving me an affectionate squeeze, and I fucking beam. How is this my life?

The sudden eruption of cheers and applause from an adjacent room piques our curiosity. Rafferty gives me a questioning look and I shrug.

He catches a woman walking by and asks, “What’s going on over there?”

She throws her thumb over her shoulder. “Coach West just popped the question to Ava and she said yes!”

Oh my! A Christmas Eve proposal. So romantic.

“Come on,” Rafferty says, taking my hand, and we follow the rest of our group toward the sounds of celebration.

As we enter the grand room, the air is thick with excitement and joy. We spot Coach West and his girlfriend—or rather, fiancée—Ava, at the center of a bustling crowd. They are beaming, wrapped in each other’s arms, and I don’t miss the massive rock winking from her left ring finger.

We hadn’t seen what transpired, so we weave through the crowd to find Boone and his fiancée, Lilly, chatting excitedly near the bar. I so enjoyed meeting them at the wedding.

“What happened?” Rafferty asks.

Boone, with a wide grin, gestures animatedly. “No freaking clue. Just suddenly the whole room was quiet and Coach dropped to one knee, holding up a ring to Ava. It seemed pretty spontaneous to me.”

“Which is what makes it so awesome,” Lilly exclaims.

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