Filthy Rich Santas

41. Lana

41

LANA

I wake from my nap feeling refreshed, a smile playing on my lips that I can’t quite contain. The memory of three sets of hands on my skin, the taste of their kisses, and the whispered promises of more to come—it all feels like a dream.

But it’s real. We’re real.

With a contented sigh, I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. As the hot water cascades over me, I actually start to look forward to my parents’ Christmas Eve party. Normally, it feels like a performative obligation, but I do love the holiday, and I just feel hopeful about everything now.

Standing in front of the mirror, wrapped in a fluffy towel, I eye the dress I’d originally planned to wear. It’s nice enough, I suppose. Demure. Parent-approved. Exactly what’s expected of me and chosen specifically to meet my parents’ standards.

But I’m not that girl anymore.

Instead, I reach for the garment bag tucked in the back of the closet. Inside is a dress I picked up during our road trip, encouraged by Ryder’s wolfish grin and Beckett’s approving nod. It’s a deep emerald green that makes my eyes pop and hugs my curves in all the right places. The neckline is just low enough to be enticing without being scandalous, and the hemline hits mid-thigh, showing off my legs.

As I slip it on, I feel a surge of confidence. This is me. The real me. The one Tristan, Ryder, and Beckett fell for.

I take a deep breath and head downstairs, the click of my heels on the hardwood announcing my arrival before I’m even visible.

I can already hear the low hum of conversation and the quiet clink of glasses over the tasteful Christmas music my mother has playing. As always, the decorations are worthy of a magazine spread, and I know I’ll find all of the city’s most influential people mingling below.

My parents have been throwing this Christmas Eve party ever since I was a little girl, and they always make sure the guest list is a who’s who of everyone they might want to network with.

As I descend the staircase, I see my parents first. Their eyes widen, and I can practically feel the waves of disapproval rolling off them. Mom’s lips purse, while Dad’s brow furrows in that way that always made me feel two inches tall as a child.

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t still make my stomach clench a bit, but then I catch sight of the three men who’ve changed everything for me.

Tristan is mid-conversation with Caleb, but he stops mid-sentence when he sees me, his eyes darkening with unmistakable heat. Ryder, leaning casually against the wall, straightens up, a slow smile spreading across his face that makes my insides flutter. And even Beckett, ever the stoic one, can’t quite hide the way his gaze rakes over me, his jaw clenching in that way I now know means he’s fighting for control.

Their reactions, subtle as they are, bolster my confidence. I lift my chin, meeting my mother’s disapproving stare with a serene smile.

“Is everything alright, Mom?” I ask innocently when she comes forward to meet me at the bottom of the stairs.

She clears her throat. “Lana, dear, don’t you think that dress is a bit… much for your figure?”

I shrug, the movement causing the fabric to shimmer in the light. “I think it’s perfect for a Christmas party. Festive, don’t you think?”

Before she can argue further, the doorbell chimes, announcing the arrival of more guests. Dad shoots me one last disapproving look before plastering on his host smile and moving to answer the door.

As I move farther into the room, Ryder sidles up next to me, his voice low as he murmurs, “You look absolutely stunning, love.”

A blush creeps up my neck. “Thank you. I’m glad you approve.”

“Oh, I more than approve. In fact, I’m already planning out all the ways I want to get you out of that dress later.”

My clit throbs, and I have to resist the urge to kiss him in front of everyone. Instead, I offer him a coy smile. “Patience is a virtue, you know.”

He grins wickedly. “And virtues are overrated.”

I shiver at the promise in his eyes, but as the party gets into full swing, I find myself swept away from my men in a whirlwind of greetings and small talk. Old family friends exclaim over the effort my mother put into the party, ask politely about my life in L.A., and not-so-subtly brag about their own successes.

I paste on a smile and nod along. I’m used to it, and regardless of the slightly critical looks my mother keeps shooting me, I know how to play my part and represent my family at these kinds of events.

Still, I’m acutely aware of Tristan, Ryder, and Beckett’s presence. No matter where I am in the room, it’s like I can feel their strength grounding me.

When I spot Vivian arriving with her family, I use it as an excuse to gracefully remove myself from a conversation with one of my father’s friends and head over to greet her.

Vivian looks impeccable as always, and her husband Kyle looks as polished as ever in his tailored suit. Oliver is adorable in a miniature version of his father’s outfit, and he takes in the array of Christmas lights with avid interest.

“Vivian! Kyle,” I greet them, leaning in to air-kiss my sister’s cheek. “You all look wonderful.”

Oliver tugs on my dress. “Is Beckett here, Auntie Lana?”

I laugh, and as soon as I point him in the right direction, he lets out an excited whoop and darts off into the crowd.

Kyle’s lips pinch. “Vivian, did you forget to speak to him about manners?”

I roll my eyes since he’s not looking at me. Sure, Oliver’s excitement was a little loud, but he’s a child, and it’s Christmas.

Vivian gives him a bland smile, plucking two champagne flutes off a passing server’s tray and handing one to her husband. “Isn’t that Brent Tennyson from First National Bank over there?”

Kyle turns to look, his spine straightening, and mumbles something about needing to talk to the man, leaving me alone with Vivian.

An awkward silence settles between us, and I scramble to fill it.

“Oliver’s getting so big,” I say, smiling. “He’s absolutely adorable in that suit.”

Vivian nods, her lips curving into an almost-smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “He is. Thank you.”

I take a deep breath, deciding to make a real effort. “You have such a beautiful family, Viv. Truly. I’m really happy for you.”

Her eyes flick in the direction Kyle went for a moment, her placid expression and perfect smile never faltering.

“Thank you,” she repeats, her tone cool.

There’s another moment of silence before she takes a sip of her drink, and my heart sinks a little at her disinterest in… well, in truly being sisters. We’ve always had a bit of a strained relationship, but if I could, I’d love to have a real connection with her. She’s family.

I take a sip of mine too, searching for something else to say. Before I can, she empties her champagne flute and grabs another one when a server walks past.

I blink when she empties half of that one in one go too. “Vivian, is everything okay?”

She seems to catch herself, glancing down at her drink and then smoothing her features into a neutral expression. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? If you’ll excuse me, I should go mingle.”

Before I can respond, she’s gone. I sigh, reaching for a glass of champagne for myself, and turn back to the party.

I scan the room for Ryder, Tristan, or Beckett, and spot Beckett with his arm slung around Oliver’s shoulders. He’s crouching down, talking to him with a smile on his face, and my heart melts at the sight. But before I can head in their direction, a woman who serves on the board of one of the nonprofits my mother is active with pulls me into conversation, and I’m once again swept up into small talk.

“Lana,” my mother says, coming to find me after a bit and pulling me away to murmur quiet instructions. “Please go into the kitchen and ask the caterers about the dessert trays. They should be out by now. Your father and I need to attend to our guests, and we can’t be seen to be neglecting them.”

“Of course.”

I take care of that quickly, startling when I turn around to leave the kitchen and find Ryder leaning against the counter, out of the way of the staff, smiling at me.

“Sneaking off?” he asks with a grin.

I couldn’t stop my smile if I tried. “Not very well, since you’ve found me,” I tease him. “What are you doing in here?”

His eyes roam over me appreciatively. “I’ve been watching you all night. Can’t seem to take my eyes off you.”

“You did pick out the dress,” I remind him, smoothing my hands over it.

Ryder grins, taking a step closer but still maintaining a respectable distance. “Trust me, love. You look incredible in it, but it’s not the dress that’s got my attention.”

I want him to come closer. I want him to touch me. I want to sink into his arms, then find Tristan and Beckett and actually enjoy this party, the amazing food, the beautiful holiday decor.

But even if I chose to wear what I wanted instead of something my parents’ would approve of, I’m still very aware that my purpose at this party is to keep up appearances for them.

When Ryder’s hot gaze softens into something more tender, I know he understands.

“How are you holding up?” he asks.

“The nap was refreshing,” I assure him. “I really do feel good.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” he says, heat flaring in his eyes.

“I meant energy-wise.”

I laugh as I speak, realizing that for all my good intentions about keeping my distance, I’ve drifted closer to him.

“Good.” He smiles down at me, still keeping his hands to himself. Then he leans a little closer, lowering his voice a bit. “I do have another question, though.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Naughty or nice list tonight?”

I squirm, remembering the men’s promise to come to my room later.

One of the caterers drops a tray behind us, making me jump, and Ryder chuckles, pulling me closer to clear the walkway.

“I need an answer, love,” he whispers in my ear. “I need to know if you want us to fuck you like a good girl or a bad girl later.”

A tiny whimper spills from my lips, heat pooling low in my belly.

“Ryder,” I breathe, glancing behind me nervously.

We’re not alone in here. The kitchen is bustling with activity, and even though his voice is quiet, I can’t help feeling like everyone knows what he’s saying.

“Naughty list,” I whisper, so low it’s barely audible. “Fuck me like the bad girl I am.”

“Noted.” He smirks and , steps back to a more socially acceptable distance, his gaze so full of heat that it’s a wonder the kitchen doesn’t catch on fire. “Ready to rejoin the party?”

“You’re horrible,” I hiss, although I’m not mad about it at all. All three of these men are masters at edging… and I love it.

“I see where you get your love of Christmas,” Ryder murmurs as he leads me back out of the kitchen.

At first, I’m not sure what he means. I do love Christmas, but this party, and the way my family celebrates the holiday, has never felt like it includes the things I love about it.

But if I take my focus off the room full of inflated egos and look at it through the lens Ryder just gave me—my own love of the holiday—I’m struck by the warmth and coziness of the atmosphere.

The room is bathed in the soft glow of twinkling lights, garlands draped elegantly over every available surface. The enormous Christmas tree in the corner sparkles with gorgeous ornaments, and the air is rich with the scent of cinnamon and pine.

Christmas music plays softly enough to add to the ambiance without overpowering conversation, and all of it is punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the clink of glasses.

I smile. Despite the constant undercurrent of tension with my parents and their thinly veiled disapproval tonight, I feel my spirits lift as Ryder’s comment reminds me of what’s important.

“Christmas always has been my favorite time of year,” I say, smiling up at him as the festive environment wraps around us like a warm blanket.

But then my mother bustles up again to check with me on the caterers, and Ryder rejoins his friends when she pulls me away to introduce me to a few more people. As we walk, she starts whispering to me, a non-stop stream of instructions of what she wants me to say to whoever it is she’s about to introduce me to.

I get that she wants me to impress her guests so that I reflect well on her, but I’m hoping we can have a moment of actual connection instead.

“Mom, you’ve really outdone yourself this year,” I compliment her, interrupting her mid-sentence.

She stops, glancing at me. “With the party?”

“Yeah.” I smile at her. “It’s really lovely.”

“Of course it is. Didn’t I tell you I used that new designer Beatrice recommended?”

I sigh quietly as she goes off about the coup of scoring this particular up-and-coming designer’s services, letting my attention wander.

Tristan, Ryder, and Beckett are all chatting with Caleb near the fireplace, Oliver still trailing after Beckett like an eager little puppy. My heart thuds at the sight of them, and as soon as I can politely do it, I murmur an excuse and leave Mom talking with a local businessman and his wife so I can join them.

I’ve just grabbed a fresh glass of champagne and started to make my way over to my men when the sound of a familiar voice stops me in my tracks.

It sounds an awful lot like my ex-fiancé, but since Wade is very much my ex now, and also back in L.A., it can’t be.

But when I turn around, it is.

I stand frozen in shock as my parents swoop in, their faces alight with excitement.

“Wade!” Mom exclaims, air-kissing his cheeks. “What a wonderful surprise!”

Dad claps him on the back, beaming. “We didn’t think you’d make it this year, son.”

Wade flashes that perfect smile again, the one that used to make my heart race but now just makes my skin crawl. “I wasn’t sure I could, to be honest. But I hated the thought of Lana being here alone.”

He searches the room, and when his eyes land on me, they gleam with something I can’t quite read as his smile widens.

“I moved some meetings around, caught a last-minute flight,” he tells my parents. “I couldn’t miss your annual Christmas party, could I?”

My parents are practically glowing with approval, and I feel my cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment, anger, and shock.

“Lana,” my mother calls out, looking around until she finds me and then gesturing me over excitedly. “Look who’s here!”

I don’t move. I’m completely frozen. But Wade doesn’t seem to have that problem, and when he crosses the room and takes my hands, I’m too stunned to react.

What does he think he’s doing? How dare he show up here, acting like nothing has changed? And why on earth is he lying to my parents and making it sound like we’re still together?

Before I can voice any of these thoughts or yank my hands away from him, Wade tugs me closer, a smug glint in his eyes.

Then he kisses me.