Lacey’s lips curved upward into a mischievous smile, her eyes gleaming. “Just because she’s a virgin doesn’t mean she’ll be some asexual lump.” She elbowed me lightly.
I slid my hand over her thigh, leaning in so my lips brushed her ear. “No, it just means she hasn’t met the right man to ruin her yet. Like I ruined you.”
Lucian groaned. “Christ, Nik, the girl’s a nun, not a pole dancer from The Sacrifice. She’s probably never even seen a dick in her life.” He looked at Lacey and pointed. “You, on the other hand, were a wild child from birth. Always looking for trouble. And you found the worst of it when you found him.”
I smirked. “I’ve loved being her first at everything—popping all her cherries, one by one. You might want to try it.”
Color flooded Lacey’s cheeks. “You two need to hush.”
I sipped my coffee, still watching her. “I’ll consider your proposal, Lucian.”
He slid out of the booth. “Do that. And have a good night, both of you. Merry Christmas.”
With Trina nowhere in sight, Lucian grabbed his coffee off the counter.
I stood as well, dropping a few bills onto the table. “Come on, little lamb. Time to go. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Her eyes lit up, all traces of our dark conversation gone in an instant. “What kind of surprise?”
“You’ll see.”
She hugged Lucian, wished him a Merry Christmas, and then we turned to Carmine and said our goodbyes before stepping back out into the velvet dark.
Lucian waved as he headed off down the sidewalk. Snow sifted down in lazy veils, covering the city and turning it into a holiday wonderland. Lacey’s hand was warm inside my coat pocket. Shekept her fingers threaded through mine as we walked toward home and then passed the entrance. We could have stepped into the building—into the heat, into the private elevator that would take us straight to our bed—but not tonight.
“Where are we going?” she asked, smiling up at me, her breath ghosting white in the air.
“Patience, little lamb.”
We slipped through the park entrance and stepped onto a path of untouched white. Tree limbs were hanging heavy with snow, and lamps burned inside halos of frost. There were no runners or dog walkers in sight. The noises of the vehicles on the streets were muffled to a distant hush. The rest of the world faded away in this serene wintry landscape.
A horse-drawn carriage waited just ahead—white coach, red leather seats, garland trimmed edges, and tiny gold lights twinkling along the rails. The dark bay horse had a thick tail and was outfitted with a red girth, a leather harness polished to a shine, and a green wreath wrapped snugly around his neck. Lacey’s breath caught, and then she was moving, softly laughing as she reached for his nose.
“He likes you,” the driver said, offering her a palmful of treats for the horse. Lacey flattened her hand and fed him; the big guy bobbed his head and snorted his thanks.
I placed my palm on the small of her back. “Come.”
She turned—and then stopped. Beaming, I held a large bouquet out to her that I’d stashed with the carriage driver when I’d made the arrangements for the ride. The roses looked dark as wine in my hand, snow pearling on their petals. Her eyes went glassy.
“This is the surprise?” she whispered.
“One of them.” I pressed the bouquet into her hand, and she launched herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me, her mouth warm, grateful, and hungry. We stayedwrapped up together for a moment, and then I lifted her into the carriage and stepped up myself. The driver swung up onto the box seat and placed a thick red woolen blanket over our legs. He gave a whistle, and we were moving, bells and the creak of old wood carrying out over the silence surrounding us.
Central Park was a cathedral when it snowed. Branches arched above us. Beyond the trees, the skyline was glimmering. Lacey set her roses to the side, tucked herself under my arm, and watched the world go by, a radiant smile on her face.
“This is the most romantic thing,” she murmured. “It’s like a fairy tale.”
We reached the lake and started across Bow Bridge, which was covered in a thin crust of snow. The driver reined in at the crown of the bridge and tucked his chin and nose down into his coat discreetly. The San Remo rose behind the trees—twin pinnacles glimmering through flurries of snow. Lacey looked around, her cheeks flushed, her lashes jeweled with snowflakes.
“I haven’t…celebrated Christmas in a long time,” she whispered. “Not really. Not since…” Her voice faded, but she swallowed and continued. “This—this is the best gift I’ve ever had.”
I hugged her tighter. “I never celebrated it. Didn’t see the point.” The truth slid out easier than I had expected. “We should start a new tradition.”
Her responding smile was luminous. “I would love that.”
“Good.” I took her left hand and rubbed the place where her ring should have been, where there was now only our wedding tattoo. “I have something of yours.”
Her eyes widened as I slid the platinum band back into place.
