by Shen, L. J.
“Jingle Bells! Jingle Bells! Jingle All the Way!”
The couple turned their heads and walked right past to go inside.
Chet started to belly laugh.
This went on for a solid five minutes. At least a half-a-dozen people passed by, all of whom ignored me. Finally, Nancy walked out. She put a five into the donation bin and handed me my hot chocolate while laughing. “The dogs in the neighborhood are howling. I had to put them out of their misery. Plus, it’s time to go to court.”
Chet nodded. “Thanks for the show, ladies. I’ll see you in court.”
* * *
“Your Honor, I have a motion to file today.”
The impatient Judge Halloran made a face and motioned with his hand for Chet to approach the bench.
I leaned to Nancy and whispered, “What’s going on?”
She shook her head. “No idea. First I’m hearing about it.”
Chet handed some papers to the judge and then walked to our table and handed a similar packet to Nancy. “Sorry about the last-minute service,” he said. Then the bastard had the balls to wink at me. He winked at me!
My attorney and the judge flipped through the pages while I waited for someone to tell me what the hell was going on now.
Judge Halloran took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Mr. Adams, please stand.”
My almost ex-husband stood at the table across from us.
“Your attorney has filed a Motion to Withdraw, stating that you’ve terminated his services. Is this correct?”
What? My eyes widened, and my head whipped to Nancy, who shushed me and shook her head.
“Yes, that’s correct, Your Honor.”
Halloran sighed. “I hate delays. While this is your right, I’m telling you right now that this will be the last continuance granted for the remainder of this case. As long as opposing counsel doesn’t object, I’m scheduling this hearing for the first week in January. Have you hired a new attorney?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Then where is he today?”
“He’s in the Bahamas for vacation. But he’s back the day after New Year’s.”
The judge mumbled. “Of course he is.” He looked over at our table. “Ms. Davis, do you object to counsel’s withdrawal and a very short continuance to allow new counsel to get caught up to speed?”
Nancy shook her head. “No, Your Honor. That’s fine with me.”
The judge slipped his glasses back onto his face. “Motion to Withdraw granted. Today’s hearing is rescheduled for January 5th.” He slammed his gavel, and everyone started to pack up their stuff.
“Uh. What just happened?” I said to Nancy.
She smiled. “Merry Christmas. I hope you enjoy my gift.”
“I don’t understand. You just allowed my divorce to be delayed again and you think that’s a gift?”
She leaned closer. “It is. Because now that Chet isn’t Rex’s attorney, you can bang his brains out. Just make sure you wrap that gift up. You’re welcome.”
* * *
I never did hear from Chet after he left the courthouse that day.
After a quiet holiday spent with my family in Queens, I felt rejuvenated. It was unlike me to take a short break from work, but it was long overdue.
I hadn’t planned on working until after the New Year, but when I received a call a few days after Christmas requesting me to plan a private dinner that would pay triple my normal rate, I decided to accept it. It was a lot of money for a small event for two, and I knew I could throw it together in no time. It was particularly a no-brainer because the client’s assistant told me I could literally do whatever I wanted. Those were the types of assignments I really had a hard time turning down. When I was given free rein, I was like a kid in a candy store. The best part was: even though the party was on New Year’s Eve, all of the setup would be completed fairly early. I would only have to show up at the beginning of the dinner to make sure preparations had gone off without a hitch, and I would still be able to salvage most of the evening.
Not that I had any plans aside from watching Ryan Seacrest while inhaling a tub of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. There would be no hot New Year’s Eve date. There would be no kissing anyone at the stroke of midnight. Unfortunately, as much as I hated to admit it, I still found myself too hung up on fantasies of Chet Saint to even want to put myself out there.
I still couldn’t believe he was no longer Rex’s lawyer, though. A part of my wild imagination had hoped that maybe he’d take advantage of the fact that he was now free from our conflict of interest in order to pursue me. But if that were the case, he would’ve called or texted. So, the fact that I hadn’t heard from him proved that we weren’t on the same page.
Despite the volatile start, our chemistry had been palpable at that holiday costume party. It was clear that if Rex weren’t in the way, we would’ve continued what we’d started at the café. I did wonder what had caused Rex to fire him. I liked to believe that maybe Chet truly got fed up with the type of person Rex is and stood up to him, refusing to play my ex’s games. Now Chet was free of Rex. If only I could say the same.
I’d just arrived at the venue I’d booked for my New Year’s Eve event to make sure all of the right accommodations were in place. I’d called all of my contacts at the best hotels overlooking Times Square and was finally able to find a private suite that would allow my client a view of the ball dropping tonight without having to endure the cold and crowds below. It was the best of both worlds. My go-to caterer agreed to put together a last-minute spread of Moroccan cuisine. Why Moroccan? Because I could choose whatever the heck I wanted, and it had been a while since I’d thrown a Moroccan-themed party.
The room looked exactly how I’d asked my assistants to set it up. A traditional Moroccan table runner was draped across a table. Colorful lamps were placed strategically throughout the space. We brought in jewel-toned drapes and satin pillows in various colors. It truly looked mystical with a royal flair. Moroccan Gnawa music would be played from a speaker in a continuous loop, since the client wanted privacy, specifically requesting that they be alone, so that meant no live violinist or any other musician.
The client had requested to meet me before his private party began, so my plan was to stick around long enough to make that introduction. I’d worn a deep purple dress to match the décor. I was looking out the window at the lights below as I awaited the client’s arrival. He would apparently be coming earlier than his lady friend to ensure everything met his needs before he surprised her with this dinner. I hadn’t spoken with him, only to his assistant. Given that this was an intimate party for two, I wondered if maybe he planned to propose tonight or something.
“Ms. Adams?”
A deep voice startled me as I stared out the window. I turned around, and my smile faded into pure shock. A man was dressed to the nines in a fitted tux. He was also the last man I ever imagined I’d see: Chester Saint.
Chet.
What is he doing here?
He cleared his throat as he looked down at my purple dress. “I hope you can stay.”
He looked stunning in that tux. And me? I was just stunned. Looking around in shock, I said, “Stay? All of this…it’s for me? You’re my client?”
“I know this was a dramatic way of getting you to go out with me. But I felt like after the rocky way we met, I owed you a proper night out.”
My hand was still on my chest as I took a few steps toward him, my legs feeling wobbly. “Actually, the way we technically met is probably one of my best memories.”
He smiled. “That’s true. The way we met in that café was actually pretty damn nice. Rocky referred to everything that happened after that day.”
The lights from Times Square flashed through the large window. But there was no amount of outside distraction that could take my eyes off him.
“You could’ve just taken me to Five Guys for burgers, you know,” I said. “That would have been good enough.”
“I figured by having you plan this private dinner, everything would be perfect and exactly to your liking.”
“Here I was thinking that whoever this woman was—she was the luckiest chick on the planet. I never imagined she was…me.”
He smiled, placing his hands in his pockets and looking so incredibly handsome. “Are you okay with this…joining me for dinner?”
That was a no-brainer.
My body filled with excitement as I eagerly nodded. “Yes.”
We were just inches apart when he said, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. After our conversation at the holiday party, continuing to represent Rex just felt wrong. For more reasons than one.”
“Is it wrong that I was relieved that he fired you?”
His mouth curved into a smile. “Let’s just say I might have set myself up for it.” He winked.
I knew it. He wanted to be fired.
“Did your firm give you trouble about it?”
“No. In fact, I quit the firm that same day. I’m starting my own practice and honestly couldn’t be happier.”
What?
It thrilled me to hear that. I would’ve hated for him to have hurt his career because of what happened with my loser ex.
“Chet, that’s amazing. Truly. A fresh start.”
He paused before he said, “I want that with you, too—a fresh start. I’d really like to take up where we left off that day in the café.”
Shivers ran down my spine. There was nothing more I’d wanted. “I’d like that.”
He looked down at my dress, then back up at me. “You look like a dream. So beautiful.”
“So do you.” Nervously giggling, I shook my head. “I mean, handsome.”
“Well, the last time you saw me dressed up, I was Buddy the Elf, so anything is an improvement.” He winked.
Over the next few hours, we sat down and enjoyed the spicy delicacies that my caterer had made. Instead of sitting at the table, we lounged comfortably on some satin pillows on the floor while the Moroccan music played on low volume in the background. It was truly magical.
Chet listened intently as I told him the full story about Rex’s and my marriage. He also told me about some of his past relationships. We talked about our careers and our hopes and dreams for the future. We opened up to each other about a lot of things, and it was one of the best conversations I’d had in a very long time. It was long overdue.
At a certain point, we were looking into each other’s eyes, and I could feel his desire in my bones when he said, “I told myself I was going to wait until midnight to kiss you, but I really want to do it right now.”
Without overthinking it, I answered him, silently, by leaning in and placing my lips over his. He groaned into my mouth as I fell into him.
His mouth was hot and so hungry for me. The feeling of euphoria that I remembered from that day in the café was instantly familiar, except this time it was amplified by the sensation of his hard body pressed against me. It had felt like forever since I’d been with a man, and I realized that I wanted Chet more than I’d wanted anything in a very long time.
Raking my hands through his silky hair, I pulled him closer as our kiss grew deeper. With every second that passed, we became more lost in each other. I could feel his hot erection through the material of his pants. I wanted him.
When I’d kissed him that first day in the café, it was because I was trying to prove my impulsivity. There was no need to try tonight. I couldn’t stop where this was going, even if I’d wanted to. It had never felt so natural to let loose and let myself get lost in someone. And thankfully, despite what his last name might imply—Chester was no saint. And that was fine by me.
Needless to say, we never did get to watch the ball drop. But it didn’t matter, because the fireworks inside our suite were bigger than anything happening outside in Times Square. And somehow, I knew that this year was going to be the best one yet.
* * *
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The Christmas Crown
Sierra Simone & Kennedy Ryan
Noelani, queen of Manaroa, has one mission on her diplomatic visit to the States: forge strategic alliances for her homeland. When she meets brooding security specialist Brock Grimsby, their unexpected alliance heats up the holiday. One night. No promises, but come Christmas, will either be able to walk away?
Copyright © 2019 by Kennedy Ryan and Sierra Simone.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter 1
Noelani, Queen Regent of Manaroa
“Thought I’d find you here.”
I don’t bother looking away from the window at the sound of Hehu’s voice. On the other side of the glass is a glow of white and lavender and gold—snow and twilight and city—and behind me is all the sparkle and glamour of the White House State Dining Room.
Sparkle and glamour is nothing new, and so it barely interests me. But snow?
Snow is new.
“Rua would have loved it,” Hehu says, like the mind reader he is.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Rua loved Christmas and snow and everything winter. Every year, he had the palace strewn with garlands and lights and drifts of white fluff, which the warm sea breezes would invariably blow under chairs and into corners, and we’d spend the entire holiday season chasing after random tufts of cotton before they could blow outside into the garden.
He would have loved this snow—real and dizzying and cold. He would have loved the opulent decorations here in the White House, the giant evergreens dripping with glass ornaments and ribbons, the candles flickering and lights twinkling and cheerful Christmas music floating from the quartet in the corner. Even toward the end, when the happy boy I’d grown up alongside had transformed into a bitter, tired man, Christmas still made him happy.
“Noelani,” Hehu says softly. “What’s wrong? You are a million miles away. Is it missing Rua? Missing Ka’eo?”
It’s only the two of us by the window, and so he speaks to me in our native Manaroan.
I finally turn to my advisor and offer him a pinched smile at the mention of my son Ka’eo. I could offer a litany of everything that’s wrong: it’s my first Christmas since my husband died, which means it’s my son’s first Christmas since his father died. I left him with my parents in Manaroa, and I desperately need to get back before the actual holiday in five days so he doesn’t have to experience this first Christmas without his father alone. No matter how strained things were between Rua and me at the end, he was Ka’eo’s father and Ka’eo idolized him. In just seven short years, Ka’eo will turn eighteen and take the crown I’m holding for him. He will walk in his father’s footsteps, and I’m determined that Ka’eo should only remember the best parts of Rua when he does.
Yet I’m here right now, not there with him like I should be. I’m across the world, in the
cold and greedy hustle of Washington, D.C., trying to plead for this council—for anyone—to listen to what’s happening to Manaroa and other islands in the Pacific as the sea levels rise and threaten to swallow us whole.
Which would bring me to the next complaint in my litany: this council. Ostensibly, it was created for leaders to gather and discuss climate change strategy and mitigation, and with the Pacific licking at Manaroa’s shores with increasing hunger, I couldn’t afford not to come. Watching parts of our archipelago dissolve into the sea had crushed Rua—crushed him right into paralyzed denial—and so Manaroa has stayed silent too long about the threat climate change poses to us. No longer. Not while I’m regent. Keeping the crown safe for my son means keeping our people safe, too.
Unfortunately, this council isn’t actually interested in anything more than long meetings, pledging to hold more long meetings, and then hosting self-congratulatory dinners to celebrate all the meetings they had. Everyone listened patiently while I described how my people are being displaced in larger and larger numbers as their homes crumble into the sea, and the poverty, sickness, and suffering that follows, but no one seemed to care enough to actually do anything.
Wouldn’t want to inconvenience the billionaires, I guess. Wouldn’t want anyone to change how they ran their businesses just to save thousands of lives halfway across the world.
And that brings me to my final complaint, and this one I voice aloud to Hehu. “Kimo,” I answer in a low voice. We’re alone and speaking our own tongue, but I’ve learned this last year that I never know when Rua’s brother—my son’s uncle and an official advisor—is listening. I only felt safe leaving Ka’eo at home with my parents because Kimo traveled with us to D. C. Kimo is hungry for his nephew’s throne—hungry enough to propose marriage to me multiple times—and I don’t trust him. I certainly don’t trust him alone with my son.
