Page 17 of Her Holiday Arrangement
And she wasn’t sure who the audience really was anymore.
The dining room smelled faintly of roasted herbs and pine from the small arrangements Elizabeth had approved weeks ago. Candles flickered in crystal holders, casting soft light over the polished mahogany table. The place settings were perfect, as always, gleaming silverware aligned like soldiers, napkins folded with military precision. Everything, meticulously orchestrated.
Riley slid into the chair next to her, still adjusting to the formal rhythm of the Hale family table. Elizabeth noted the way her shoulders hunched slightly, how she tugged at the edge of the napkin on her lap, a subtle signal of nerves she couldn’t quitehide. Riley’s hands fidgeted with the glassware, and Elizabeth’s eyes flicked between her and the food before them.
The first course arrived, cream of mushroom soup, garnished with a drizzle of truffle oil, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but scan Riley’s face for any sign of hesitation. She was doing well, though. Nodding politely, offering a small laugh when Elizabeth’s mother made a pointedly clipped comment about the weather and the perils of cross-country travel. Her voice was soft, careful, but steady. Elizabeth allowed herself a fraction of relief. Riley was performing, yes, but she was also holding her own.
Conversation flowed around them in the practiced cadence of wealth and old money. Elizabeth’s father told a story about his winter hunting trip, three exaggerated tumbles from the sleigh. Riley chuckled at the right moments, offering just enough to seem engaged, yet never overstepping. Elizabeth caught herself watching how her chest tightened each time Riley’s hand brushed against hers or the armrest, a gentle accident or deliberate? Elizabeth refused to guess.
Elizabeth’s attention never left Riley. One slip of phrasing, one wrong laugh at the wrong moment, and the family could smell inauthenticity a mile away. Riley’s hand brushed hers again. This time, she held it just a moment longer than necessary. Elizabeth’s pulse jumped, but she kept her voice even.
“Do you ride horses, Riley?” her father asked suddenly, leaning back in his chair, glass of wine in hand.
Riley blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… I went on a pony trek once as a kid,” she said quickly, curling her hands in her lap. “I was terrified of falling off, but I made it to the end. Barely.”
Elizabeth nudged her subtly under the table, stifling a laugh. “She’s always up for trying new things.”
Riley’s cheeks warmed. “I try.”
Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. “Good. Ingenuity is admirable. And necessary in our circles.”
Elizabeth caught Riley’s eye. There was a mix of relief and tension there. She whispered under her breath, “Keep smiling. Just a few more courses.”
Riley’s lips twitched in acknowledgment, but Elizabeth could feel the weight of nerves in the way her shoulders hunched. The next few minutes were a delicate dance of small talk, polite laughter, and Elizabeth’s carefully measured interjections to steer Riley through questions about the trip and the city.
Finally, Elizabeth set down her napkin, fingers brushing Riley’s under the table. “We’ve had a long day of traveling,” she murmured, low enough only Riley could hear. “We should get some rest. Early start tomorrow.”
Riley’s eyes widened slightly, then softened. “Yeah. Sounds good.”
After they said their good evenings to the family and made their way out of the dining room, Riley hesitated, glancing at the polished table, the scrutinizing faces around them. “I… I think I managed, okay?”
Elizabeth’s voice was calm, yet there was an edge of warmth she couldn’t fully hide. “You were excellent.” Her hand grazed Riley’s back as she led her toward the hallway. “Now, the suite awaits. Time for you to recover from surviving my family.”
Riley’s laugh was soft, nervous, but genuine. “I’ll try not to embarrass us.”
“You won’t,” Elizabeth said, though her own pulse raced. She could feel Riley’s warmth through the sleeve of her coat, a tether, an anchor. She forced herself to focus on the measured steps toward the suite, every footfall deliberate.
And yet, her mind flicked ahead to the bed, the single bed they would share. The thought made her throat tight, her pulse quicken. She wasn’t sure she wanted it to be just the bed.But for tonight, she pushed the thought down. Tonight, she’d concentrate on keeping Riley poised, keeping herself poised. And surviving the first night without anyone noticing the tension simmering between them.
Elizabeth led the way up the stairs, one hand lightly resting at Riley’s back, the other steady on the railing. Her mind raced, mapping out contingencies for any question, any slip, any glance from the family that could unravel the fragile pretense.
But under all that planning, she couldn’t ignore the simple fact: Riley was next to her, alive and warm, and the apartment’s quiet hum seemed to pulse around them. Tonight, they would rest. Tomorrow, the games would resume, but for now, it was just her and Riley, and the bed waiting silently at the top of the stairs.
The bedroom was straight out of a luxury ski lodge fantasy, a cathedral of polished wood, golden lamplight, and absurd intimacy. A towering four-poster bed dominated the space, dressed in deep crimson quilts and a fur-lined throw that probably cost more than Riley’s last three rent payments combined. The fire in the stone hearth flickered with lazy confidence, and candle sconces glowed on the walls like the room had been staged for seduction.
Elizabeth barely blinked.
She could sleep on one edge of a king-sized bed and not touch Riley for two weeks. Easy.
Except it wasn’t easy.
Because Elizabeth hadn’t expected this.
She had planned logistics, fabricated backstories, even briefed Riley on which cousin was married to which trust fund heir. But she hadn’t let herself think too hard about this moment—the bed, the scent of candlewax and winter spice in the air, the silence between them that now held weight. Elizabethwas rattled, though she would’ve rather walked barefoot across broken glass than admit it.
Riley placed her duffel on the bench at the foot of the bed. “Is it weird if I unpack?”
“No,” Elizabeth said, forcing a shrug. “Make yourself comfortable.”
