Page 32 of Silent Night Sins
“That’s the spirit.” Amanda pumped the air. “And here you didn’t wanna come.”
“Oh, I still don’t,” I muttered as the front door opened and Mrs. Jefferson squealed in delight.
I’m here to support my high-achieving sister.
On cue, Amanda plastered on her professional façade—not very different from her day-to-day look—and began tackling the room full of Boston’s elites. She was on the hunt for executives to convince to become clients for her firm. While she wasn’t even a partner, she hoped that bringing in even a few high-end clients would help set her apart from the other associates.
Always working.
I looked at the beautifully frosted sugar cookies. The ones that were painted with sugar, I did too. In my own way.
When the hell was the last time I touched a brush to canvas, though….
“Oh, what are those?” Mrs. Jefferson turned to me, faux-kissing my cheeks to hide her grimace.
“Cookies,” I deadpanned as if it wasn’t obvious.
“How nice.” Her teeth audibly clanked as she forced a smile.
“You baked,” Donny the Third chirped, coming up behind his mother.
For once, I was happy to see the glittering golden boy.
“I did.” I shoved them in his face. “I thought they were more thoughtful than flowers.”
Mrs. Jefferson sniffed and clutched the bouquet from my sister close to her chest.
“They are.” Donny sounded sincere. “I’ll have one of the staff take them around the party.”
Mrs. Jefferson looked as though she would faint, but a hard look from her son shut the old biddy’s trap.
I needed a drink.
Handing my coat to the maid, I trudged after my ambitious sister, who was already chatting up a group of men in expensive suits. Their conversation immediately bored me. Who cared about the stock numbers? That was worse than gambling in my humble opinion.
When a tuxedo walked by, I resisted the urge to holler at the penguin and instead trotted after him to snag a holiday cocktail. It was rimmed with colorful sugar and tasted like a Christmas tree.
Sucking down the iced liquid, I disappeared to the back of the room. Back here, I could safely support my sister without getting in her way. I knew these people. They were the same adults who’d sent their children to Thilton Preparatory School. They had shining careers, and their children were in the process of succeeding them in those fields or other acceptable ventures.
Then there was me.
The unemployed artist.
I would be broke, singing for my supper, if it wasn’t for the trust fund paying my credit card bills. A long sigh whistled from between my lips. I almost wished I was penniless. That would give me the drive I needed to sell my art, instead of curating it for other people.
“Why the long face?” Donny gave me a pout as he invaded the corner of the room where I’d been hiding, partially concealed behind a potted plant.
“Is it that obvious?” I tipped back the drink, and the ice banged against my teeth. Empty.Shit.Where was the penguin with the booze?
“Well, I have something that will cheer you up.” Donny waggled his brows.
Ihatedwhen men did that. “If it’s not offering me something to eat or drink, I doubt it will help.”
“Here.” Donny handed me his amber-filled tumbler.
I grimaced. Was I tipsy enough to sip straight booze? No…. But fuck it, I was desperate.
The smoky liquid burned as it slid down my throat. A warm buzz settled in my chest, and I sighed contentedly. I swirled the rest in the bottom of the glass.
