Page 2 of Silent Night Sins
“And you won’t be here until Christmas Eve,” I pouted.
That gave me two weeks alone in this mausoleum.
“I’ll try to make it over on the weekends, but—” Amanda’s head jerked up. “Shit! The boss is coming. Gotta run!”
The call ended in a blink. My stunning lawyer sister was fighting daily in the bullpen of junior associates for a position in one of Manhattan’s top firms. She worked harder than anyone else, but I’d heard enough stories about the senior attorney in charge of the associates to know he would see a personal phone call as a betrayal to company time. That man made Louis Litt look like a fuzzy teddy bear.
Sure enough, there was an unread voicemail from Lyra that I must have dismissed when my phone bubbled to life after taking it off airplane mode. Lyra was the assistant to my father’s secretary, and she explained in her most professional voice that the merger for the capital venture company was going to take more time, and my father’s firm had to stay through the holidays to execute the legal matters.
That was how bad communication was in our family. I didn’t even hear from the secretary, let alone from Daddy Dearest. It was always Lyra who sent important updates such as this. And my biological mom? She lived on some ranch, where a settlement of free-spirited people shared the necessities of life, read poems around the campfire, and smoked a hell of a lot of pot. We rarely heard from her.
Leaving my luggage in the dim foyer, I wandered into the kitchen, where a fancy bottle of red called my name. I plucked one from the cellar attached to the walk-in pantry, knowing Carole only drank the most expensive vintages. At least there would be no shortage of good booze this Christmas. The sweet sound of glugging filled a glass moments later.
I’m not going to cry.There was no point throwing myself a pity party.
Being let go from the gallery I slaved for came as a shock last month, but it wasn’t half as bad as finding my boyfriend screwing a leggy mademoiselle on his kitchen table this past fall. I took a healthy sip and cursed his shriveled, mostly limp penis.
Neither of those facts were things my family would find out. I would rather die than let them know the truth. It was already bad enough that I was coming back without a job lined up and waiting!
Life might have kicked me down, but coming home was me giving it the middle finger. I was looking forward to being Stateside again. A good old-fashioned Christmas was just the thing I needed to perk me up. The New Year was going to see a refreshed, revamped me who was ready to take on the world.
I chugged a few gulps of wine.
“They can’t beat me if I don’t try,” I gasped, slamming the glass on the marble island with a little too much force.
There was still Amanda.
There was still me.
And I would be damned if there wasn’t an overwhelming amount of Christmas spirit to bring us back from the brink of despair.
Gathering my iron resolve, I pulled up my phone and began to shop. Store after store, I digitally ordered enough crap to make it look like Christmas threw up in here. The delivery services began dropping off bags and boxes of stuff forty-five minutes later. By the time I pulled the first bags into the foyer, the snow began to fall outside, heavy flakes that promised the ground would be covered in sheets of white by morning. Blaring Christmas music, I got to work.
Chapter 2 – Cristiano
“Fuck this white shit, I’m going to retire to Boca,” Vincenzo grumped, hunkering into his coat and holding his hands up to the heater blasting at the passenger seat.
I shot my brother an amused look. “You’d die of boredom on the beach.”
“At least I’d die warm.” He grinned. “There are plenty of nice folks down in Florida to keep life interesting.”
“I shudder to think of you drug running with gangs,” I said dryly.
Vincenzo only laughed.
I turned off the heat on my side of the car. The temptation to roll down the window, to let in the fresh, crisp air, was strong. But I needed to focus on the house down the street. The lights were still on, and there was a tree in the front window. Which could only mean one thing.
Loring was back.
When one of our guys keeping an eye on this area told us the news this afternoon, Vincenzo and I changed our plans to stake out the house. The attorney wasn’t due back until January, but like all the fancy business pricks, his itinerary was always shifting. And our visit was long overdue.
What if….
I slapped that thought away. I didn’t let myself think about who else might be in that house. Loring’s daughters were out conquering the world. Thinking about the past only brought back funny feelings that I didn’t want to have. It wasn’t like I could change anything.
Shehadn’t been home in years, not that I noticed. It wasn’t like I purposely followed her travels, accomplishments, or cared about her life at all. It was easier not to, but whiskey and social media were a dangerous combination that I hated myself for falling into every now and then.
“Lights are out.” Vincenzo sat up straight, peering through the dripping windshield.
