Chapter 25 Rourke
TWENTY-FIVE
Rourke
As we turn through massive wrought-iron gates and drive up a winding path toward Mr. Marco’s house, Janie’s face is nearly plastered to the window, mesmerized by the dozens of evergreens wrapped in thousands of white lights lining the drive.
The sprawling estate is like a European palace, all limestone and gothic-style windows, with probably fifty rooms spread across multiple wings.
“This is where Mr. Marco lives? You could put ten families in this place and never see one another,” Janie says as we climb the curved steps leading to two matching double doors with stained glass.
When we reach the top, she stares up at the mansion, which probably cost more than most people make in a lifetime and is decorated in more lights and garland than the entire Santaville festival.
“The man has four different residences, including one on his own small island,” I tell her. “Subtle isn’t really in his vocabulary.”
As we step inside, I swear I hear Janie gasp a little. The entry hall alone is bigger than my entire apartment, with a chandelier decorated for Christmas that could rival the one in The Phantom of the Opera. Janie squeals with delight when she takes in the lavish Christmas display in front of her.
Every architectural detail in the home has been wrapped in something for Christmas: unending ropes of real pine garland, thousands of twinkling lights, deep red velvet bows around every banister of the dramatic curved staircase in the main hall.
I count at least a dozen massive Christmas trees in the entryway alone, each decorated in a different theme—gold and burgundy, silver and blue, classic red and green, all flooded with lights and matching ornaments.
Ice sculptures are tucked into spare corners—one with the Crushers logo, two more featuring hockey players, and a fourth featuring Mr. Marco himself.
A string quartet’s carols echo through the cavernous rooms as servers in uniform circulate with flutes of bubbly champagne. After helping Janie take off her coat, I rest my hand on the smooth skin of her back and guide her through the crowd.
Janie’s chin tips toward the windows in the vaulted ceilings, mesmerized by a line of wreaths decorated with perfectly tied bows.
“Rourke. This is…”
“Over the top? Completely excessive?”
“Magical,” she finishes with a wistful smile.
I press a kiss to her temple. “Of course it is. Because you love Christmas. I should’ve known this would be heaven for you.”
I guide her through the crowd until we reach the main ballroom, where most of the hockey team is gathered.
“There he is.” Brax points at me, grinning as he approaches with Jaz. Judging from their well-rested faces, I’m guessing that Rosie had a good night.
Lauren waves to us from across the room before dragging a reluctant Tate to our circle. He clutches a book, clearly engrossed in reading something from Mr. Marco’s library rather than socializing.
“You guys remember Janie,” I say to the group.
“Of course,” Lauren says, pausing between bites of her mini-cheesecake. “She’s already in the girls’ group chat.”
Tate glances up from his book, mildly alarmed. “What group chat?”
Lauren holds her cheesecake in the air. “The girls’ one. You boys have your secret club—we figured it was time.”
“You knew about ours?” Tate’s gaze narrows.
Jaz snorts. “Sheriff, everyone knows about your group chat. You’re not exactly subtle.”
“But those messages are private,” Tate says, his brow furrowing.
Jaz lifts a shoulder. “I’ve read them.”
“Me too. So has Victoria,” Lauren adds.
Tate blinks. “Even the one where Leo—”
“Yup,” Jaz says, popping a stuffed mushroom into her mouth. “Especially that one.”
Tate sighs. “Then I’ll just go ahead and apologize now…mostly for Leo.”
“Excuse me?” Leo slides into the circle with Victoria, totally unbothered as he sips champagne. “What did I do this time?”
“Tate was apologizing for your group chat behavior,” Lauren explains, snagging a pastry puff as a server passes.
Leo scoffs. “Please. If anyone owes an apology, it’s Sheriff Grammar over there.” He gestures at Tate. “Full sentences. Correcting our typos. What is this, a novel?”
“Better than your texts,” Tate replies. “Half insults, half unsolicited dating advice.”
Leo grins. “Insulting you is a form of love. And I stand by all my dating advice.”
“Will you two ever stop picking on each other?” Victoria chides, elbowing Leo in the side.
“Never,” Tate says.
“Absolutely not,” Leo says at the same time, clinking glasses with him.
The whole group laughs.
“At least they’re consistent,” Janie murmurs next to me.
“Speaking of dating advice…” I nod toward the entrance of the ballroom. “Did you see who Jaxon came with tonight?”
All heads in the circle swivel toward the man in a crisp black suit who is making his way across the ballroom with Scarlett.
In the corner, Brendan stands like a hurricane, arms crossed, shooting lightning bolts from his glare.
Judging by the vein bulging in his forehead, he is absolutely not taking this well.
“Wow,” Tate mutters. “He looks like he wants to burn down the building—with Jaxon still in it.”
“That’s love,” Leo says. “Or attempted murder. One of the two.”
Brax lifts his glass. “Twenty bucks says Brendan makes a move on Scarlett before the night’s over.”
Tate shakes his head. “My money’s on him brooding in the corner all night.”
Leo chuckles. “I’d like to see Brendan let loose for once and punch Jaxon in the face.”
“And cause a scene at his uncle’s estate?” Victoria asks.
“It would certainly make for a more interesting party,” Leo replies, before taking another sip from his flute.
The sound of silver tapping against crystal cuts through the room as Mr. Marco steps onto a small platform near the string quartet. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention.”
Conversations fade as the crowd turns toward him.
“Welcome to the Crushers Christmas party,” he begins. “As you all know, several of our Crushers players have been dedicating their time to community service this season…”
Lauren leans over and whispers to Janie, “Brace yourself for a speech about the importance of volunteerism.”
“…and I’m pleased to report that participation has been excellent across the board. Including our reluctant volunteers.”
Raphael Marco’s gaze lands on me, and his mouth curves up a little.
“In fact, there’s a bit of a heated race for the top volunteer prize,” he continues.
“Which, as you may know, comes with a very generous Christmas bonus—and a matching donation to the player’s chosen charity.
But we wanted to give you another chance to compete tonight.
” He lifts his glass again, clearly enjoying keeping us in suspense.
“Since you’re all competitive athletes, let’s see how you perform off the ice. ”
Chuckles ripple through the room.
“We’ve prepared something special,” he continues. “Tonight’s dinner is being held hostage until you complete a Christmas scavenger hunt.”
“Oh, perfect,” Tate mutters. “It’s going to be impossible to find anything here.”
“Couples will race through my house and grounds to find specific items,” Mr. Marco explains, waving his hands toward the doors leading to the rest of the home.
“The first team to return with all items from the list wins a special prize. And you know me—I always make the prize worth it.” He gives us a pleased smile.
“But remember—no cheating, and absolutely no bribing my staff. My entire house will be open to you, except for a few locked areas. Otherwise, you’re free to roam the grounds at your leisure. ”
He gestures to several uniformed servers who step forward with sealed envelopes.
“Choose your partner and collect your list,” he adds. “May the best team win!”
“Well,” I say, turning to Janie, “this ought to be fun. Ready to see just how ridiculously rich one man can be?”
“Are you kidding?” she says, her eyes wide. “I organize classroom scavenger hunts for a living. We just need to think like a kindergartner. They’re very good at finding things.”
“You mean like the romance novel hidden in your bag?” I say with a grin, reminding her of the first Christmas pageant practice, when she was outed by one of her students.
Leo whirls around. “Don’t get too confident, Bennett. Victoria and I have home field advantage—we’ve been to enough of these parties to know where the weird stuff is hidden.”
“Weird stuff?” Janie asks, looking around at our group. “Like what?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Brax says, shaking his head. “Last year I found a giant closet that was only mirrors.”
“Maybe he likes to examine himself from every angle,” Leo says. “I mean, the guy paid for an ice sculpture of himself.”
“That’s nothing,” Tate adds, tucking his book under his elbow. “I once got lost searching for the restroom and discovered a bowling alley…inside the house.”
Janie blinks. “Why would he need a bowling alley?”
“Welcome to Mr. Marco’s world.” I slide an arm around her shoulders and gesture at the massive ballroom. “He has everything you could ever dream of.”
We collect our envelope from the server, and I rip it open while the other couples cluster around us.
Everyone is in pairs except for Brendan, who’s now sulking by the appetizer table, staring down Jaxon and Scarlett as he drains another glass of champagne.
“First item,” Janie reads. “‘Something worth more than my Bentley Continental.’” Her face tilts to mine. “How much is that?”
“Probably 300K?” I guess.
“Should we split up?” Leo suggests to Victoria.
“Absolutely not,” Victoria says immediately. “You’ll get distracted and end up in the wine cellar.”
“That was one time!”
She lifts an eyebrow. “It was three times, Leo.”
“Yeah, but rules state you have to complete the hunt as a pair,” Tate points out. “So it’s every couple for themselves.”