Chapter 23
Santa Baby, Slip a Bribe Under the Tree
JAMES
Afeeling of being watched drags me awake. One of my eyes opens slowly. Caleb is already dressed in pressed slacks and a button-down, sitting upright and staring more intensely than usual.
"Morning?" my voice still rough with sleep.
"Don't go to Rainbow House today," he says abruptly.
Sit up on my elbows, more awake now. "What?"
"Come with me." His voice is steady, but there's something underneath it, something almost like fear. "To my parents' house."
The words don't make sense. "You want me to come to your family's house for Christmas Day?"
"My brothers bring their girlfriends or wives every year. Why can't I bring you?" There's a defensiveness to his tone that tells me he's been thinking about this for a while.
"Because you gave me zero notice?" My fingers rake through my hair. "Because I have nothing to wear to what I assume is a formal Huntington family Christmas?"
"Your clothes are great, and we can pack you quickly enough." He reaches for my hand, his fingers curling around mine with surprising urgency. "Please, James. I don't want to face them alone this year."
And there it is, the vulnerability he rarely shows. I've never seen Caleb ask for help like this or admit he needs someone. The thought hits me hard: he's scared of going home.
"Okay," before I can overthink it. "But if your mother closes the door in my face, I'm blaming you entirely."
His relief is visible, shoulders dropping as the tension I hadn't noticed leaves his body. "She won't do that… I don't think she has it in her to ignore social rules that much."
"Fantastic. Can't wait."
His face falls slightly at my sarcasm, and there's a twist behind my ribs. Dammit.
"What if we only go for the day? Or—hear me out— I'm sure your mother will give us a pass rather than let you have a boy in your room overnight."
Caleb gets this look, absolute delight, like a kid who just figured out how to get extra dessert. "James Hunter, are you suggesting we weaponize my mother's homophobia for our escape plan?"
"If the pearl-clutching fits..."
"Brilliant." His grin turns wicked. "Absolutely brilliant."
Shit. Should not find that smile so devastating. It's just teeth. Very straight, very white, probably professionally maintained teeth... Focus, Hunter.
He leans down, kissing me quickly. "Thank you. The car will be here in twenty minutes."
"Twenty, Caleb!" Scrambling out of bed, nearly tripping over the tangled sheets. "You couldn't have woken me earlier?"
He has the grace to look slightly guilty. "I was working up the courage to ask."
Shoving down whatever the hell that feeling is, I grab clothes from my dresser and head for the shower. "You owe me for this, Huntington. Big time."
His smile, small but genuine, follows me out the door. "I know."
The Huntington estate is exactly what I expected, and yet, it remains shocking in its excess.
The car, an actual town car with a driver who didn't speak beyond a brief "good morning," delivers us to a sprawling property in one of those neighbourhoods where the houses don't have visible price tags because if you have to ask, you can't afford it.
The house itself is a white colonial with imposing columns and perfect symmetry, like something from a political campaign ad. Which, I realize, it probably is.
"You grew up here?" That wreath on the door has to cost more than most people's monthly rent.
"One of our houses," Caleb replies, a hint of embarrassment colouring his voice. "We've got three."
"Of course you do."
He rings the doorbell rather than using a key, which strikes me as odd until the door swings open to reveal a woman in what appears to be a uniform. She nods at Caleb without smiling.
"The Huntingtons are expecting you in the main drawing room."
"Thanks, Maria." Caleb steps inside, motioning for me to follow.
The interior is even more intimidating than the exterior, with high ceilings, marble floors, and Christmas decorations that look like they've been lifted from an architectural magazine spread.
Everything is colour-coordinated in silver and blue, not a single ornament out of place.
It doesn't feel like a home so much as a museum where people happen to sleep.
"Your house is..." Nope. All the honest endings are rude, and since when do I care about being rude? Oh right. Since the guy standing next to me started doing that thing with his tongue.
"Cold? Impersonal? Like a furniture showroom where you're afraid to sit down?" Caleb supplies with a wry smile.
"I was going to say… but yes, all of the above."
"Mother has a different designer do the house every year," he explains, leading me through a hallway lined with family portraits. "This year's theme is 'Winter Serenity,' which apparently means everything has to look like it's been carved from ice."
We enter what must be the drawing room, a massive space with soaring ceilings and a Christmas tree that has to be at least twelve feet tall.
The tree is decorated with ornaments that match the precise shade of silver-blue as the rest of the decor.
A fire burns in an enormous fireplace, but somehow, it fails to make the room feel any warmer.
Four people turn toward us as we enter, Caleb's mother Caroline, with her perfect blonde bob and cream-colored pantsuit; two men who share Caleb's jawline but none of his intensity; and two women who I assume are their wives, both slender and expensively dressed.
"You're late," Caleb's mother says by way of greeting, her smile not reaching her eyes. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd changed your mind."
"Traffic," Caleb lies smoothly. The truth, that he hadn't wanted to leave the warmth of my bed, stays between us.
Her gaze shifts to me, and a flash of annoyance crosses her features. "James, I didn't realize you would be joining us again."
"Last-minute decision," Caleb says, his hand finding the small of my back. "Since we're officially dating now, it made sense for James to be here."
The emphasis he places on "officially dating" sends a ripple through the room, a barely perceptible shift in the atmosphere.
The last time I had seen them was for that awkward fundraiser, during which Caleb and I were still in our "fake relationship" phase, a detail his family might have picked up on.
"How... unexpected," his mother replies. "You might have called ahead, Caleb. We would have prepared accordingly."
"Sorry, Mother." Caleb doesn't sound sorry at all. "My apologies, we are only going to be able to stay for today, but I hope Maria can set another place for lunch."
She makes a noncommittal sound as Thomas steps forward, shaking my hand with the same firm grip I remembered from our first meeting. "James. Good to see you again." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "I believe you haven't met my wife, Audrey? And this is Robert's wife, Alexis."
The wives offer small nods but stay where they are, their posture suggesting I've brought something unpleasant into their carefully curated Christmas.
"Nice to meet you both," trying for politeness despite the chilly reception.
"Where's Father?" Caleb asks, glancing around the room.
"Taking a call from the governor," Thomas answers. "Campaign doesn't stop for Christmas, little brother."
"Of course not," Caleb mutters. "Heaven forbid."
"Drink, James?" Robert offers, gesturing to a bar cart laden with crystal decanters. "Scotch? Bourbon? I seem to recall you didn't partake much last time."
"Just water, thanks.”
Something like amusement flickers across his face. "Water it is." The way he says it makes it sound like I've failed some sort of test.
"James is the webmaster for our fraternity," Caleb offers, clearly trying to change the subject and find some common ground. "He's brilliant with computers. Built our entire system from scratch."
Thomas raises his eyebrows. "Webmaster? That's... interesting. What's your actual career plan?"
There it is, the first direct dig. I feel Caleb tense beside me, but I keep my expression neutral.
"I will be working in digital security consulting. I've already got a job lined up with Vertex Systems after graduation."
"Vertex," Audrey repeats, looking to her husband. "Is that the startup Thomas was considering investing in last year?"
"The one that tanked its second round of funding?" Thomas asks, smile sharpening.
Holding his gaze. "No, that was Vertigo Tech. Common mistake."
Caleb suppresses a smile beside me.
"How did you two meet?" Alexis asks, her tone suggesting she's asking about a mildly interesting science experiment.
"James helped me with a computer problem," Caleb answers before I can. "We got talking and hit it off."
"How quaint," Audrey murmurs, exchanging a glance with Alexis that speaks volumes.
Caroline clears her throat. "Well, we're delighted you could join us, James. Caleb so rarely brings anyone home."
"I wonder why," Caleb says to me under his breath.
The arrival of Caleb Huntington II breaks the tension. He moves through his own home like he's entering a boardroom. That same calculating look from our first meeting is sharper now and focused on me.
"James," he says, not bothering with a greeting for his son. "I trust you found the place without issue."
"Your driver was very competent. Hope he doesn't get lost coming here often, it would be a pain in the ass to find on your own."
Audrey makes a sound that might be a cough. Might be a laugh. Jury’s out.
Caleb the Second's smile tightens. "Well, yes, we've had the same driver for years."
How... reliable." The word lands with just enough emphasis. "Thank you for having me in your home. It's lovely."
The aggressive politeness clearly throws him for a second; it's harder to combat someone who won't rise to the bait.
"Caleb," his father recovers smoothly, "why don't you help your brother with the drinks? I'm sure James and I can find something to discuss."