Page 19 of Her Holiday Arrangement
Elizabeth forced her tone into something lighter.
“You should get some rest. The first day is always the worst.”
Riley nodded, dragging her overnight bag toward the side of the bed furthest from the fire. “Right. Early breakfast with the judgmental upper crust.”
“They’re worse after mimosas.”
“Great,” Riley muttered, but she smiled.
Elizabeth crossed to the other side of the bed and unzipped her own garment bag, selecting a sleek black satin slip. She changed in the bathroom, eyes fixed on her reflection as she fastened the thin straps. It wasn’t a seductive piece, she’d brought it for comfort, not allure, but as she returned to the bedroom and slipped under the covers, she could feel Riley’s gaze dart toward her and away again, fast.
Warmth bloomed in the space between their bodies.
They weren’t touching. Not quite.
But her shoulder was there. A few inches away. Close enough to feel the heat of her skin in the silence.
Elizabeth turned off her lamp.
The room plunged into shadow.
She listened to Riley settle. A sigh. The rustle of fabric. The faint creak of wood as Riley shifted to her side, facing the wall, polite and distant and entirely too present.
Elizabeth lay frozen. Her body was tense, her mind louder than it had been all day. She could hear her pulse in her ears.
This was supposed to be a performance. Two weeks of appearances. Of precision and control.
But here, in the dark, in her childhood bedroom that didn’t feel like hers anymore, beside a woman she had no business inviting into this mess, Elizabeth let the truth creep in.
She wanted to roll onto her side, just to see Riley’s face in the moonlight.
She wanted to reach out, just to see what it would feel like.
She didn’t move.
Instead, she stared at the ceiling, fists clenched beneath the blanket, and asked herself the question that had been building since the moment she offered Riley the role.
What the hell have I done?
4
December 16th - Riley
Riley took one step into the Hale family foyer and immediately forgot how to breathe.
Yesterday, she had been so nervous at meeting the family, she hadn’t focused on her surroundings, but this morning she realized it was like being dropped into the set of a Christmas movie—if the movie had a budget larger than most small countries. The chandelier overhead sparkled with cruel precision, each crystal glinting as though in judgment. The grand staircase curled upward like something out of Versailles, its banister wrapped in garlands so flawlessly arranged they may as well have been installed by NASA. Every ornament on every tree matched. Even thepinesmelled expensive.
She blinked. Once. Twice. Nope, still real.
Elizabeth was already halfway across the space, speaking with someone Riley didn’t recognize. She wore a slate gray coat that matched the marbled tones of the room, her hair pinned back like she’d stepped out of a Sotheby’s catalog. She looked… different here. Sharper. More contained.
Riley swallowed hard, dragging her eyes away before the internal monologue started spiraling again.
Okay, Riley, focus. You can do this. You are charming. You are funny. You are not going to faint in the hallway like a Jane Austen heroine with a vitamin deficiency.
She mentally flipped through the script Elizabeth had drilled into her as they dressed this morning:
“Don’t say anything about student loans. Don’t talk about how your last girlfriend ghosted you after you forgot to Venmo for brunch. Don’t knock over the million-dollar vase.”
