Snowbound with the Santas (Forbidden Fantasies)

1. Rayne

1

RAYNE

“ R ayne, all I’m saying is that next time your family flies you out to the Austrian mountains for Christmas, just bring me along! An entire month surrounded by snowy mountains and people to do everything for me?” My best friend, Nina, sighs wistfully, bringing her face close to the phone as we FaceTime. “Heaven, my dear. H eaven .”

“You make it sound so romantic,” I murmur back, tilting my head slightly more to the left and pressing a small silver hoop through my ear. Soft Christmas music plays through the air from the small radio beside the sink, and the ornate mirror is surrounded by colorful, twinkling lights.

“Uh… have you seen what you’re wearing? Where you are?” Nina snorts, unamused. “Your family might be terrible, but I would trade that for my shitty apartment and a wet New York winter any day.”

Stepping back from the mirror, I smooth my hands down the jeweled bodice of the dress my mother thrust into my arms the minute I arrived here.

From Nina’s perspective, things are pretty magical.

I worked my ass off all year to accommodate my family’s demands to spend winter with them in Austria. Usually, I’d ignore such an invitation, but I skipped out on the last three Christmases, and Mom was not taking no for an answer this year. Life as a second-grade teacher is far from glamorous, but I love it. At a glance, no one would suspect that I come from a life of wealth and privilege because I have tried so hard to leave that part of me behind.

Growing up, I watched my mother look down on everyone around her. As a child, I thought it was because my father had left before I was born and Mom was simply overprotective about who came close to us. The older I got, the more I learned that she was just snobbish. Too much money had given her such a skewed outlook on life that her yelp of shock when I told her I wanted to be a teacher still rings in my mind to this day.

My uncle wasn’t much help back then, either. Cecil, a family friend turned uncle, always seemed a little more level-headed until I grew up and realized he was just as bad as my mother, only more insufferable. His government job had him walking around like he was blessed .

“Earth to Rayne.” Nina’s voice cuts through my rambling thoughts, and I look back at my phone. “Are you so enthralled by your ethereal beauty? You self-centered bitch .”

Laugher bubbles out of me, and I slide my hands from the jeweled bodice down to the smooth silk skirt.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about how I have to spend all evening dressed up like a shiny candy wrapper just so my mother can act like she has a daughter she’s proud of.”

“Oh, yes.” Nina switches to a pompous tone. “ Such a disappointment, having a daughter who teaches the commoners. We must bring her back to the fold where her toilet paper is made of solid gold and she had six different people to dress herself. ”

“You mock,” I say with a giggle, “but my mother lives exactly like that.”

“Wait, really?” Nina’s eyes widen. “Mind swiping me some golden sheets, then? I can sell them on eBay and secure a down payment on my next apartment.”

“I’m on it.” Flashing her a grin, my heart lifts slightly, and for a moment, things feel normal.

Instead of enjoying the holidays with her and our friends, I’m here, back in the smothering life I worked so hard to escape due to a family obligation I can’t shake.

Mom guilts me too quickly. A few words about her age and ailing health, and I crumble immediately. I can’t help it. My heart is too easily played, as proven by so many of my past mistakes.

“You know when you come back to work, though, you might need to bring a gold sheet for everyone. Hilary is pissed you got so much time off,” Nina says, finally leaning away from the phone with a long stretch.

I groan softly and gently fluff my curls. They swing forward, hiding the earrings from view, and I nod.

“I know. I didn’t take a holiday for over a year for this and I still have no idea what my mom said to the boss in order for this to happen. I bet she made some kind of donation.”

“Money talks,” Nina agrees. “As long as it benefits our kids, right?”

“Exactly. It’s fine.” I suck in a deep breath, and the unforgiving press of the bodice stabs into my ribs. “I can do this. Winter here, then I can go back home and not see anyone else for another three years. On my way in, I’m pretty sure I saw an aunt I haven’t seen since I was twelve. Mom invited everyone this year.”

“A real aunt?” Nina asks.

“At this point, I have no clue. Money is the blood in this family, so who knows?”

Suddenly, a sharp rap of knuckles against the door interrupts the conversation, and my mother’s sharp, eloquent tone drips through the door.

“Rayne? Rayne, are you still in there? How long does it take to put on a dress? Does it fit? I knew I should have gone a size up. You look like you’ve put on weight.”

“Mom!” Warmth floods my cheeks, and I press one hand to my abdomen, pressing firmly enough that the gemstones stab into my palm. “I’m almost done.”

“Ridiculous. I’m coming in.”

Before I can say no, Mom bustles into the bathroom wearing a deep blue velvet gown that delicately swishes across the tiled floor. She moves so gracefully that it looks like she’s floating. Her wrinkled, tight face loses its smile the moment she looks me in the eye.

“Rayne, why do you look so sour? Anyone would think you’re being forced to be here.”

“ Technically— ” I begin, but she cuts me off immediately.

“Winter in Austria with your entire family. What more could you ask for at this time of year? And your Uncle Cecil has been so looking forward to seeing you, so wipe that look off your face, okay?”

Her hands are on me in a blink, further tightening the straps of the bodice and brushing my hair away from my bare shoulders.

“Mom—”

“You chose hoops? Don’t be silly, dear. In a dress like this, you should be wearing the dangling teardrops. Change. And choose a deeper lip color. You look like you’re going to some sort of frat party.”

My mouth drops open in shock, and Nina can barely hold in her snort of laughter.

“And turn that off.” Mom spins around and turns off the radio, ending the soft Christmas music behind the dull tones of a newscaster describing the influx of awful weather. “Now hurry up and meet me downstairs.”

With that, she’s gone and a chill skims down my bare arms. She never listens. No surprise there.

“If you turned up to a frat party looking like that…” Nina laughs loudly. “Sweetie, you would be mocked to high heaven.”

“I know,” I groan, turning back to the mirror and removing my hoops. “She probably saw something in a magazine and decided she knew exactly what a frat party was.”

“Also, I always thought Cecil was your father, the guy who always sends those flowers?”

“Nah he’s my uncle. Not even, actually. Family friend. Stuck by my mom for as long as I can remember, so he may as well be. Much better than my good-for-nothing sperm donor.”

Nina groans in agreement, then she sighs. “The hoops looked good.”

“I know.” Hoops aside, I select the earrings Mom asked for. “But if I’m to survive the next six or so weeks here, I have to keep her happy, so… teardrops it is.”

“Will it help if I say you look like a princess?” Nina offers, winking at me through the screen.

“A little. I wish you were here.”

“Me too.”

“Alright, I'd better go before she comes back and drags me down to meet everyone by the hair. Then I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Okay, I love you, Rayne. Send me lots of pictures!”

“Will do, love you too.”

We quickly exchange some blowing kisses, then Face Time ends and a heavy silence falls around me.

I suddenly feel so very alone, singled out in this vast ski lodge where more people than I’ve ever met have come to celebrate Christmas with us at my mother's request. With my next breath, my deep red bodice suddenly constricts, and I puff out my cheeks, trying to admire myself in the mirror.

Just pretend. It’s for family. Just pretend.

Smile and pretend.

I know many would kill to be in this position—born into wealth, having every need tended to from a young age, and having the privilege of spending the entire winter up in the mountains with all their family.

It doesn’t feel that way to me.

It feels more like a prison, a gilded cage I have to smile about because the people pleaser in me can’t say no to my mother.

Forcing another couple of deep breaths, I double-check my earrings and slide my phone into the matching clutch. This bodice is so tight, my breasts almost knock into my chin if I look down while breathing in, and yet the skirt is so airy that it almost feels like it isn’t even there as I walk.

Past fancy paintings, ornate vases, and high marble pillars, I stroll with my head held high and my mind running. It’s a challenge, stuffing the real me deep down into my gut and reigniting the fake me who survived private school, obscenely decadent parties, and hours of mind-numbing, boring talk about how tough life is for the wealthy.

As I descend the pristine white staircase, keeping my hands close to my body and my purse clutched in my hands, I fantasize about telling the truth.

Telling my mother that I hate this dress, that I feel imprisoned inside it. I want to spend Christmas with my friends in a small pub somewhere, exchanging paper-wrapped gifts and drinking until sunrise. That I see no value in entertaining government officials or listening to how the latest dip in the stock market is so terrible for trading.

I want to eat pizza and potato waffles, drown cheap pancakes in syrup, and pore over my second-grade class's intensely terrible yet lively drawings. It’s not much, and indeed, if I had control over my inheritance, I would do a lot more. But teaching is how I give back and how I try to make up for my terrible teen years spent seeking self-destruction at the bottom of a bottle.

And the tragedy I caused because of it.

Instead, I’m here, Annette McCullough’s estranged daughter who spends too much of her time away from family.

Finally showing her face after three years.

By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, sweat pools against my skin and makes the bodice infinitely more smothering. I flash a smile at the attendee who holds out a glass of champagne to me. I decline it with a smile while the familiar, faint pull of addiction yanks in my mind.

Immediately, I turn and head away from the crowd filling the ballroom and make a beeline for the door leading to the kitchen.

Water. I need some water.

Suddenly, an iron grip clamps down on my bare arm and hauls me to the side, sending me tripping over my own heels. A squeal of shock escapes me and my other arm flails as I try to regain my balance. It’s impossible as I’m dragged swiftly behind a giant planter housing a colossal fern and thrust into the darkness of a smaller room.

I stumble over myself, and my ankle catches on something cold and sharp. The clatter of a metallic pail meets my ears, followed by the solid thunk of a closing door.

“What the hell?” I snap, spinning around the second I regain my footing, and I drag my arm out of my assailant’s grip. “What the hell do you think you’re playing?—”

Oh, no . I know that face.

“Hello, Rayne. What a delectable surprise.”