Page 5 of Cupid's Naughty Elf

There’s a tightness in his jaw, the clenching of his left hand—a palpable anger that those around him sense and move a little back from him. And while any other time I’d giggle at their reaction, my attention’s captured by his long fingers.

“How did I miss that,” I mutter under my breath, and Miri bumps her shoulder with mine in question, but I shake my head. I’m taken in by the flash of gilded brilliance on his left hand, but before I can make outwhatit is, Liam slips it inside his trouser pocket.

“Something you need, gentlemen?” Jonah’s tone is polite yet unfriendly, while Liam doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stares, and the look on his face matches his friend’s unspoken threat.

Step back. Don't look at them.

He’s adorable.

“Not at all. This is a fantastic party.” This comes from the blond male; he has slicked-back hair and a pair of reindeer antlers on his head. All four of them are wearing identical headbands as their costume, and a boring dark green suit completes the ensemble. “The aesthetic is quitetempting.”

“In what way?” Liam’s growly voice does things to me, and I grip Miri’s hand tightly. She winces but doesn’t say anything, her attention solely on Jonah.When will they ever quit playing cat and mouse and just give in?“Please enlighten me.”

From the corner of my eye, I catch Jonah’s brother, Cain, rushing over. He’s wearing a Grinch onesie undone at the topand hanging off his hips. He’s two years older than me and looks worried.

So does Isla and her twin, Ivy. They’re dressed as Christmas whores—literally. Nothing more than expensively slutty underwear, and they look simply amazing.

Gorgeous, and something no one who’s ever been to one of these parties would leer at. No shaming or judgment. What happens within these walls, andafter, is never spoken about.

There are still two missing from our group, but they’ve always been fashionably late to every birthday, BBQ, and party thrown. We’re one wealthy generation on opposite ends of the same decade with a mixture of old and new money—between those of us still in college, or like Liam, who’s a year away from thirty.

“What’s going on, Rutherford?” Cain asks, and the concern on his face gives away who theseguestsgot their invites from. “Why do you look ready to…”

We don’t stay to hear the rest, but I catch Isla’s eyes, and she blows me a kiss before moving in closer. Her twin merely rolls hers, knowing they’ll play damage control and explain the rules to Cain’s friends while Mrs. Claus and the eager elf head toward the dance floor.

The opulent room inside a grand hotel on the Marco Island coast is owned by the Byrnes family, an international chain known for its upscale accommodations and excellent customer service. This resort is the largest, with five more locations in this state alone, while the rest of the group belongs to high society here—the small niche of residents who are above the law.

Money will always talk no matter what coast you live on, but here, they play by a different set of rules. You don’t bite the hand that feeds government agendas. But what else can you expect from a group of second-generation heirs with family names that give them a free pass?

There’s a political family, the owners of the top-ranked casino in the industry, a real estate developer, and a hotelier. You also have a social media app CEO, and my Liam, who builds first-shooter video games with a cult-like following that continues to grow.

A company he started with my cousin, Miriam.

His parents come from old money, too. They own a football team in South Florida, and his brother is currently the active head of the operation.

Every single family is dominant in their respective fields, unapologetically ruthless, but when I’ve felt lost, my Liam always pulls me in. Because I’ll never follow in my parent’s footsteps. It’s something I’ve made peace with, and many don’t understand how I don’t capitalize on those connections.

But being a celebrity isn’t something I’ll ever aspire to be.

I’ve lived that life. Been under constant scrutiny: the fear of being followed, having twenty-four-hour security around you, and people shouting your name everywhere you go. Being the daughter of someone famous, and in my case two of them, was more of a nightmare than a dream come true.

At least, for me.

I couldn’t even lay them to rest without a paparazzi helicopter circling the private cemetery and photogs with huge lenses capturing the event from a distance while hiding in the trees.

It’s a fiasco I never want to be a part of again.

My dream is a lot more subdued. Quiet.Normal.

I’m a writer—completely enamored and addicted to romance. Nothing’s published yet, but it will be. Soon, too. Under a pseudonym and without public appearances, I’ll do this on my terms.

“He’s so mad,” Miri says, pulling my attention back to the present. Her eyes flick betweenthemandus,but I don’tturn around. Not even when I feel the heat of his stare, a pleasurable fire that sweeps from my feet to my face, leaving me flushed. Miriam notices, but outside of her amused smirk, she doesn’t call me out on it. “Cain’s standing between them now, and Liam’s saying something, and it doesn’t appear to be welcoming.”

“Isn’t that their usual overprotective M.O.? Claim and defend, but don’t touch?”

Her lips twitch as she pushes a wayward curl back from her face. “They’re amusing if nothing else.” The drink I’ve been nursing is taken from my hand and Miri brings it to my lips, not removing it, but instead tipping it back until I have no choice but to finish it off. When I give her a look, she places the empty glass on a passing waiter's tray before asking him to get us another. And only after he’s out of earshot does she address me again. “So, what’s your game plan tonight? Because your outfit screamsplease bend me over.”

Corset and shorts so small a hint of asscheek peeks out? Check.

---