Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Sunny
What just happened?
I stand frozen in the middle of the ballroom, my mind reeling, trying to catch up with the whirlwind of what just unfolded. Ryder Hale just dropped a bombshell that left the entire room in stunned silence.
Is this what he’s been working on?
He called Vincent out in front of all those people, and I had no idea it was coming. I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of this.
It’s like I’m watching a scene from some high-stakes thriller, and I somehow got cast in the role of the unsuspecting lead.
But here I am, smack dab in the middle of my own drama, with Christmas lights twinkling merrily overhead. The universe thought, “What’s the best way to make a holiday season memorable? Let’s toss in a little bit of scandal, shall we?”
The colorful lights flicker in the background, entirely at odds with the tension I can feel vibrating in the air. The crowd is buzzing, voices rising in waves.
Some people are whispering, some are gaping, and more than a few have their phones out. I can’t even blame them. Ryder just went nuclear on Vincent in front of everyone.
And then, like the cherry on this insane sundae, blue lights flash outside the tall ballroom windows.
I blink, stunned, as two uniformed officers stride inside. Gasps ripple through the crowd as they head straight for Vincent.
He tries to smooth his suit, that fake confident smile plastered on his face, but his hands twitch as they cuff him.
“Vincent Lang, you’re under arrest for fraud and embezzlement,” one officer announces, clear enough for half the room to hear.
I swear my brain short-circuits. Arrested. In my ballroom. On Christmas Eve.
I glance at Ryder, but he’s calm, almost too calm, watching Vincent sputter protests that no one believes. My knees nearly buckle. I don’t know if I want to hug Ryder, yell at him, or both.
The officers march Vincent out the front doors, his protests swallowed by the roar of conversation. It’s insane for another minute. Guests buzzing, champagne glasses rattling as servers pause mid-step.
How do we bring the gala back from this?
Glad as I am to see Vincent brought to his knees, I’m scared for the party. The gala needs to be positive, so I can keep the hotel moving in the right direction.
My chest tightens as I glance at Ryder, who’s standing off to the side, seemingly unfazed by the spectacle he just created. I mean, I get why he did it, but that doesn’t shut the panic down…
Is this whole night going to be ruined?
I take a step back, watching as the last of the press filters out of the ballroom, their voices a low hum in the background.
The murmurs in the room shift, slowly at first, then with more force. The tides finally give in to the moon’s pull.
People are talking. They’re laughing again. The music picks up in volume, almost like it never stopped.
The hum of chatter rises in waves, and for a second, I can almost forget that the floor beneath my feet still feels unsteady.
People… start to have fun again.
Like, seriously. The drama affected nothing…
As if the whole scene never even happened. It’s both surreal and oddly comforting at the same time.
The same guests who were wide-eyed just moments ago are now relaxed, clinking glasses as if they didn’t just witness an explosive confrontation. The servers continue circulating with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres, the laughter around the room now light and easy.
The holiday magic, I guess.
I spot Marjorie by the bar, her smile as wide as ever, laughing at something Eli said.
She catches my eye from across the room and gives me an exaggerated wink, clearly sensing that the tension’s starting to lift.
I can’t help but smile back at her, feeling a strange, almost surreal sense of relief wash over me.
Maybe it’s the whole “everything will be okay” vibe that people seem to give off when they don’t want to face the awkward aftermath of a meltdown.
Maybe it’s because, deep down, I can see it too… things are going to be okay. We’re still standing. The hotel is still standing.
And somehow, even after everything, this night is still ours.
The sound of jazz drifting through the room is suddenly brighter, smoother, less jarring. It’s almost like the music is playing for me now, a little gift from the universe.
A reminder that there’s beauty in the madness.
I watch as the guests start to dance, moving in time with the music, their faces glowing with the ease of the night taking over once more.
I take a slow breath, trying to center myself again. I can’t keep spinning in this whirlwind of panic. I need to remember that I’m in charge here.
I can do this. I pull myself together, smoothing my dress and adjusting the clutch I’d almost forgotten I was holding.
This is my night.
I force my shoulders back, standing a little taller. Just as I’m about to get swallowed up by the crowd, I see him.
Ryder.
He’s standing there, a grumpy, brooding Christmas angel who’s not quite sure whether he wants to dive into the holiday spirit or stand in the corner and brood some more.
But then our eyes meet, and something shifts. A slow, quiet shift that the universe just decided to reset.
Without even thinking, my feet move toward him. I’m not sure if it’s the adrenaline from Vincent’s drama or just the pull between us, but I don’t stop.
I make my way over to him, my brain trying to catch up with my legs. And when I finally reach him, his gaze is locked on mine, trying to figure me out.
Again.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I blink at him, my heart still racing, but there’s something about the steadiness in his eyes that makes everything inside me just… pause.
“I think I am now,” I reply, my voice a little shakier than I’d like, but it’s true.
I’m starting to feel maybe the world hasn’t completely crumbled around me. And I mean, come on. He just put Vincent in his place in front of everyone. That was… a master class in revenge.
And it made him about ten times hotter.
I stare at him a little longer than I probably should, caught up in the way he looks at me. His eyes are full of so much… gruffness, yes, but also something softer, something that makes my chest feel tight in the best way.
“Thank you,” I blurt out. “For what you did. With Vincent. I… I don’t even know how to thank you for that.”
He just shrugs causally, but his eyes tell me it was a big deal. He’s not fooling anyone.
“It was Nolan who called in the police—I didn’t do it alone. And besides,” he says, “I meant it. I’ll fight for this place. For you. Always.”
And just like that, my heart does a little somersault. This guy, with his complicated, brooding exterior, has been nothing but a rock for me when I’ve needed it the most.
Then, out of nowhere, Ryder does something that completely throws me. He steps a little closer, and his hand reaches for mine.
He’s asking if it’s okay, he’s not sure what I’ll say. His fingers brush against mine, tentative and almost shy.
“Dance with me?”
I don’t even think about it. I just take his hand. He pulls me toward the dance floor, and the second we step into the soft glow of the Christmas lights, everything fades away.
The noise. The chaos. Even the anxiety that’s been gnawing at me all night.
It’s just us.
Ryder’s hand rests on my waist, his other holding mine, and we start moving slowly, together.
It’s nothing fancy. There are no complicated moves, no twirls. It’s just a simple rhythm. Like we’ve been dancing together for years, and it’s always been this way.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, but time slows down, and I forget about everything except the way his hand feels on my waist, the way his body moves with mine.
“I’m sorry,” Ryder finally says. “For how I reacted when you told me about the pregnancy. I was shocked. I was scared. But I… I was a jerk. You didn’t deserve that.”
I blink up at him, surprised. I wasn’t expecting an apology. I thought we were … going to pretend everything was fine, but here he is, laying it all out there.
“It’s okay,” I say softly, resting my head on his chest. “I didn’t know what to do either.”
But then I feel him pull me just a little closer, his arms tightening around me.
His voice is barely audible as he whispers, “I want this. I want us. I want a family. Our family.”
My heart skips a beat, and I pull back just enough to look up at him. His face is so serious, so sincere, and I can tell he’s not joking. He’s not playing around. This is real.
“I…” I swallow hard. “I want that, too.”
I’ve been holding that in for too long, but now it’s out there, and it feels like a weight’s been lifted off my chest.
Ryder smiles then, the kind of smile that’s slow and warm and makes my heart flutter. Without another word, he leans in and presses his lips to mine in front of everyone.
At first, it’s gentle, asking for permission. And I give it to him, of course. I kiss him back, pulling him closer, and for a second, everything disappears.
It’s just us.
I think I might be floating.
Like, there’s no way this is real.
The gala is finally wrapping up, the last of the guests wandering out with big grins on their faces. The whole night has been a dream.
Or a nightmare. I’m not sure which yet.
But here we are, standing at the tail end of a major drama, and I can’t seem to shake this weird sense of calm that’s creeping over me.
Ryder’s still holding my hand. I don’t know when he grabbed it, but I don’t want him to let go, not yet.
We’ve been walking through this hotel in our own little bubble, everyone else a blurry backdrop to whatever’s happening between us.
The hallway feels quieter now, the music fading into the distance, and I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do with myself.
I can still hear the echoes of the gala in my head—the press, Vincent’s angry exit, the million questions I’ve been dodging from the guests.
But it’s all fading away as Ryder and I slip into the elevator—just the two of us. No Vincent. No hotel drama. Just… us.