Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Estelle
Morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of our master suite, casting everything in a wintry gold as I propped my phone against the pillows.
The French doors to our private balcony revealed a winter wonderland that still took my breath away—an endless white stretching toward snow-heavy pine trees, like someone had shaken the world's most beautiful snow globe.
"Leo!" I called cheerfully as the FaceTime connected, immediately turning the camera toward the window. "Look at this! Real snow!"
My nephew's adorable face filled the screen, his eyes going wide with wonder. At five years old, everything was magic to Leo, but this was different; this was the kind of awe that made my heart squeeze with love.
"Woah, Elle! It's everywhere!" he gasped, pressing his nose closer to his tablet. "It looks so fluffy!"
Before I could respond, a tiny hand shot into the frame and snatched the iPad right out of Leo's grip.
"Avery!" Leo laughed, but he never sounded upset, more amused than anything.
"SNOW!" Avery shrieked with pure five-year-old delight, her curly hair flying as she bounced in place. "It's so pretty! Is it cold? Can you touch it? Does it taste good?"
I couldn't help but giggle at her rapid-fire questions. "Slow down, cutie. Yes, it's cold, and yes, you can touch it, but no eating the snow, okay?"
“Little Miss Avery,” came Jovie's voice from somewhere off-screen, patient but firm. "You can't just grab things from people."
"But Leo doesn't mind!" Avery protested, grinning at the camera. “I’m special! Right, Leo?"
“Yeah,” Leo's voice came from beside her, completely unbothered. "I don't mind. Avery can use it.”
My heart melted a little. Something told me these two were going to be inseparable as they grew up. But for now, they were just happy to share tablets and adventures.
"You two are adorable," I told them, meaning every word. "I'll take lots of pictures to show you when we get back, okay?"
"Promise?" they both said in unison, making me laugh.
"Promise."
This was my first real Christmas—not just the snow and decorations, but the family part. Growing up, Christmas had been complicated.
Some years, I celebrated with my older sister, before she passed on. Those times were bittersweet, filled with her laughter but shadowed by the weight of what we both knew we were missing—the warmth of a real family.
After Giselle, I tried my best to make Christmas magical for Leo, but it was hard to create wonder when I'd never really experienced it myself.
This year was entirely different. We were surrounded by people who chose to love us, and I was currently in a place adorned with twinkling lights and the promise of memories yet to be made.
I was finally understanding what all the holiday fuss was about.
But the best part was that we'd be home early, which meant I could spend actual Christmas with Leo. Our first Christmas, where I truly understood the magic I was trying to share with him.
"I should let you two go have breakfast," I said, reluctant to end the call but smelling a delicious breakfast from downstairs. "Be good for Jovie, okay?"
"We will!" they chorused, waving enthusiastically before the screen went dark.
I set the phone aside and stretched luxuriously, enjoying the feel of the silk nightgown Jax had chosen for me last night.
He always picked out everything from my coffee to my clothes, and I loved every second of being treasured in that way.
Everything in our room was also perfectly curated, from the throw draped artfully over the armchair to the fresh pine garland wound around the bed's headboard.
Jax had an eye for beauty and luxury, and he loved nothing more than surrounding me with both.
Speaking of which...
"Good morning, princess,” came his smooth voice from the doorway, and I turned to find him leaning against the frame with that lazy smile.
His blonde hair was still mussed from sleep, and he wore only low-slung pajama pants that showed off his tanned abs and the snake tattoos winding up his arms and over his neck.
"Good morning," I replied, sitting up and letting the covers pool around my waist. "Someone's up early."
"Connor's already downstairs making breakfast. Apparently, he doesn't trust Adrian not to start a fire if left unsupervised.”
Jax pushed off the doorframe and crossed to me with that predatory grace that reminded me why he was such a formidable fighter.
"Plus, I wanted to make sure my girl was properly dressed for another day in winter wonderland."
"Of course you did," I said fondly. This was completely normal for us—Jax choosing my outfits was as natural as breathing by now.
"You love it," he replied, already moving toward the walk-in closet. "Don't even try to deny it, princess.”
We both knew I'd let him dress me in a burlap sack if he asked nicely enough. There was something deliciously indulgent about letting Jax take care of every detail, from the coffee I drank to the clothes on my back.
“What did you have in mind?" I asked, sliding out of bed and following him in.
The space was enormous, with built-in shelves and drawers that Jax had somehow managed to unpack all my clothes in.
"Something warm but pretty," he mused, running his fingers along the hanging garments like he was selecting a work of art. "We're going to be outside again today, and I want everyone to see how beautiful my princess is."
Heat pooled in my stomach at the possessive way he spoke. Jax's indulgent dominance always left me breathless and desired.
"Here." He pulled out a cream sweater dress that would hit just above my knees.
"With these." Thick dark tights and knee-high boots in buttery leather.
"And this." A white scarf that would keep me warm while adding an elegant touch.
"Perfect," I agreed, because it always was with Jax.
He helped me dress with the same careful attention he brought to everything else, his hands lingering on my skin as he smoothed the dress over my hips, his fingers gentle as he wound the scarf around my neck.
"Beautiful," he murmured when he was finished, his blue eyes dark with approval and something hungrier. "Absolutely beautiful.”
"Even without my Santa hat?" I teased, remembering how Adrian had insisted on the accessories yesterday.
Jax's grin was wicked. “Even without your Santa hat. Though I'm sure our chaos coordinator will remedy that situation the moment he sees you."
“Probably," I laughed, checking my reflection in the full-length mirror.
I looked good, put-together and elegant, but still cozy enough for a day in the snow. "Ready to face the madness?"
"With you? Always." He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, then offered me his arm like the old-fashioned gentleman he could be.
"Come on, princess. Let's see what fresh hell Adrian has planned for us today."
The smell of coffee and bacon greeted us as we descended the stairs, along with Connor's steady voice and Adrian's animated chatter.
Christmas lights twinkled from every surface, and the large windows framed the freshly falling snow like an enchantment.
"There's our star!” Adrian called the second he spotted us, already bouncing toward me with a Santa hat in each hand. "And her noble protector. Good morning, you Christmas-y people!"
Jax accepted his hat with far more grace than I expected. “Christmas-y,” he repeated.
"It's Christmas vacation!" Adrian declared, plopping a hat on my head before I could protest. "And you, my festive friend, get the regular jingly one. Connor gets the extra-special Grinch edition."
From the kitchen came Connor's long-suffering sigh. "I can hear you, you know."
"That's the point, Mr. Grinch!" Adrian called back cheerfully. "Someone has to balance out all this Christmas joy!"
"I'm going to put bear spray in your coffee," Connor threatened mildly.
We girls settled at the long kitchen table with steaming mugs of coffee and heaping plates of pancakes, bacon, and fresh berries.
The sun poured in through the frosty windows, casting golden highlights over the polished wood and garland-strung banisters. The scent of cinnamon mingled with pine and frying butter, making the morning feel both festive and decadently indulgent.
On the floor, Toffee demolished his bowl of wet food, purring like a tiny, contented Christmas train.
He’d lost his sweater somewhere but looked perfectly pleased, licking gravy from his bowl and glancing up hopefully every so often at the bacon.
"He's really going to town," I laughed. Toffee, for all his dignity, ate like a mini lion.
“Connor spoils him almost as much as they spoil us," Sierra said with a grin, giving Toffee an affectionate look from her seat.
As we ate, conversation buzzed about what to do next. Sledding was suggested, snowman building made us all laugh, and Isla threw out snowshoeing with calm, practiced confidence.
“I can ice skate,” she added. “But only if no one plans to take pictures—my face will be frozen solid.”
That sparked the morning’s first truly wicked idea.
I glanced slyly at the others. “We should do ice skating,” I declared, knowing full well the trio of boxers were probably too huge to pull off a sport as delicate as ice skating.
“It’ll be hilarious to watch them try and balance those monster thighs. Their legs alone are like tree trunks.”
A round of snickers circled the table as the girls immediately latched onto the evil genius.
The plan was set: Ice skating—a guaranteed ego blow for the hulking, tattooed champions. We agreed unanimously, both for our amusement and pure chaos value.
Only Isla could actually skate between us, but that was beside the point.
Content with our plans and full of delight at the anticipation of seeing the guys off-balance for once, we lingered over syrup and apple cider until we noticed the kitchen had gone eerily quiet.
“Anyone else find it suspicious they vanished mid-pancake?” Sierra asked, looking around. “It’s too quiet. That’s never a good sign.”
We all stood at once, sharing a look. It was a mix of trepidation and mischief. This was trouble, and we were absolutely marching straight toward it.
In haphazardly thrown on coats and boots, we crept outside into air that bit at our cheeks and burned our lungs with every indrawn breath.
The world was silent, almost sacred, save for a distant—thunk.
Then another thunk. And the sharp chorus of masculine laughter echoing around the side of the house.
We rounded the corner and stopped cold.
Six feet of snow was nothing to the vision before us: The guys, utterly shirtless, out in the icy sunlight.
Clouds of steam rose with each breath. Their skin, glazed with sweat or snow, caught every ray of morning light and made the ink on their torsos and arms gleam—dark, sinuous bands across powerful muscle.
Connor was working a heavy axe, broad back and shoulders flexing with each unhurried swing, arms corded and veins prominent beneath pale winter skin.
You could practically see the heat radiating off them, the snow at their feet stamped into dark, melted patches.
Adrian, covered in ink, worked beside him with a theatrical flair—he spun the axe, split the logs in crisp, showy movements, and grinned like a devil.
And finally, Jax. He wasn’t chopping. No, the golden-haired king just lounged against a split log, axe propped up beside him, head cocked back as he watched the other two with bored amusement.
He looked every bit the entitled heir: lean with muscle, jaw cut like glass, ice-blue eyes on full display.
His chest was a landscape of golden skin, pink nipples pebbling with cold, but clearly unaffected as he made no move to dress.
He’d pushed his Santa hat high onto his hair and was flat-out posing—sun gleaming off his skin, smile half-sinister as he waited for me to notice him.
For a beat, all we could do was stare. There was something primal about it—all that heat and masculine energy against so much frozen white and the glitter of icicles, like some dirty corner in a Hallmark Christmas village.
I could feel my face flush despite the cold.
“Oh my god,” Isla whispered. “That’s not even necessary. The firewood is already stacked to the roof.”
“I think this is for our benefit,” I offered weakly, my voice a little breathless. “Look at Jax. He’s not even pretending to help.”
As if on cue, Jax caught my eye, grinned, and pushed off from the log, axe in hand, but with no intention of using it.
He prowled over, eyes locked on mine.
“Like the view?” he rumbled, voice all honey and arrogance as he closed the distance.
Before I could say a word, he caught me by the waist and lifted me flush to his bare chest. I squealed at the cold and the hard muscle of his skin beneath my hands as he carried me inside.
Adrian didn’t miss a beat; he swept Isla up with a flourish, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. “You know you love it, angel,” he crowed, sauntering back toward the house.
Connor, silent and powerful, simply lifted Sierra straight off the snowy ground and held her against his body as if she were weightless, her legs automatically winding around his waist as he followed us in.
The guys, flushed, sweat dripping, skin red from cold, radiated pure ownership, parading their girls to the doorway, hands possessive, gazes dark with satisfaction.
Once inside and deposited in the center of the living room, our boots stripped off, every inch of us flushed from cold and manhandling, we girls exchanged a single glance.
It was the kind of look that said: They think they’re in control? Game on.
Adrian, Jax, and Connor disappeared briefly to get our snow gear, commenting with wicked intent on layers and gloves and how helpless we’d all be on an ice rink.
But as they hovered, the three of us huddled closer, our eyes alight with the promise of mutual chaos to come.
Sierra grinned. “We need to plan something. Something that will make them regret all that flexing out there.”
Isla was already plotting. “Maybe something that gets under their skin in the worst way. We want them restless all night.”
I dropped my voice, savoring the unspoken conspiracy between us. “It’ll be something just for them—all that pent-up energy begging for an outlet.”
The guys thought they ruled this cabin, but we were about to turn the tables in the most delicious way—and drive them wild in the process.
As the snow continued to fall, soft and relentless outside, we shared a final look of wicked promise. The real game of Christmas chaos had just begun.