Her grin widened as she brushed her fingers over the printed flowers on the silk. “Thank you. It’s one of my favorites. A rare Chanel piece.”
The sound of a spoon clinking on a champagne glass interrupted our bitter conversation, and all heads turned to Alistair, who stood up, ready to speak. “Thank you for being here today to celebrate this festive season,” he began. “It’s not often we have family and close friends gathered in one room to bond and celebrate the end of the year, and what a year it’s been.”
“Here, here,” a relative called out. Alistair’s slight smile turned into a soft chuckle.
“I’d like to make two toasts before we start lunch,” he continued. “First, I’d like to make a toast to our successes, good health, and lifelong friendships. Merry Christmas, everyone.”
“Merry Christmas,” we cheered in unison, raising our glasses with him, before sipping our drinks.
Alistair cleared his throat, then continued. “For those of you who aren’t aware, I invited a lovely lady and her family here today to celebrate Christmas with us. Here’s a toast to the beautiful Vera Kathryn Richland. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” His eyes locked with mine as he raised his glass in my honor.
The guests chimed warm wishes and raised their glasses, but all this faded into a blur as I focused my gaze on my handsome Orion, the man who showed me love. My ears and cheeks burned with crimson heat when his soulful green eyes connected with mine. I felt as if the stars in the universe started to align for us. Of all the gifts he and I gave each other on Christmas, the most important one was an intangible exchange between our souls—a crazy thing called love.
YOU’RE MY FAMILY
Vera
A few months later
“Fucking bitch.” Alistair’s temper exploded like a grenade in his office. He threw the magazine at my feet.
I picked it up, saw the smut on the cover, and then flipped to the article, scanning it before placing it on the coffee table beside me. “It’s just tabloid rubbish,” I said, stroking my hot-tempered lover’s arm. His reddened cheeks ticked in heated anger.
“It’s a media attack,” he growled. “Clearly, someone is paying Rebecca to shit on me.”
The magazine,Lester Harbor Exposed, was a popular gossip rag with wild headlines and vulgar photos of the rich and famous. The latest exposé featured Alistair’s former fiancée, Rebecca Ross, exposing him as a whoring, cheating playboy who gave her gonorrhea. That last part was not true because his previous test results showed he was clean. She posed nude, showing her “new” breasts, which she claimed were a gift from Alistair when they were together. They didn’t bother covering up her nipples. The budding actress probably enjoyed the attention.
“Alistair is a sex addict who invited other women to share our bed,” Rebecca said in the article. “Ménage à trois became a regular activity for us. He’s not capable of love. He’s a sociopathic heartbreaker. I hear he’s dating a lawyer. Whoever you are, stay away from him because he’ll wreck you.”
“Scotty, this is BS,” I scoffed. “You can’t take it seriously. Honestly.”
“Your girlfriend is right,” a cold voice confirmed. Bianca Cavalli walked into the office, smelling like sweet temptation with her high heels, flowing locks of ebony hair, and figure-hugging dress.
Alistair greeted Bianca with a light kiss on her cheek. “Listen, thanks for coming at short notice. I hope I didn’t ruin your evening plans.”
“Vera, sit next to me,” she commanded, taking a seat on a leather sofa. I sat down, mirroring her, and clasped my hands.
“You’ve heard ofLester Harbor Dailyand the biweeklyLester Harbor City News, I’m sure,” she said.
I nodded, awed by the cold-as-ice queen bee. Her champagne dress shimmered against her smooth chocolate skin, the contrast striking and impossible not to admire.
“I haven’t properly introduced myself,” she said. “I’m Bianca Cavalli, CEO of Cavalli Media Group, the parent company of bothThe DailyandCity News.”
“What does this have to do with me?” I asked, a little confused.
“Everything,” Alistair said. He stood by the forty-fifth-floor window and stared at the city lights under the night sky. We worked in the same building and met up in the evenings so he could drive me home when he was in town.
“Alistair tells me he’s invested in you,” Bianca continued.
I arched a brow. “Are you two planning my life already?”
“No,” the media magnate replied, calm but firm. “But we’re protecting you. A smear campaign is brewing. Someone with deep pockets is feeding the press stories to drag both of you down.”
I turned to Alistair, heat rising in my chest. “Scotty, we can sue Rebecca for defamation, and anyone else who tries this shit.”
“Rebecca will hear from my lawyer in the morning,” he said, his lips pressed into a hard line.
Bianca looked me straight in the eye. “There will be news about you, my dear. It won’t be from theDailyor any of my publications, but there will be more media attacks. We will do whatever we can to help you.”
