33
The Kensington estate glittered beautifully.
It was something Claire was amazed by year-after-year.
Every window blazing warm gold against the frost-bitten dark of Christmas Eve.
Garlands of evergreen and white lights traced the balustrades, and the air inside was rich with candle wax, pine, and expensive perfume.
Crystal glasses never seemed to empty of champagne and gin cocktails.
Deep red wine flowing freely as laughter rose and fell beneath the swell of the orchestra.
Couples drifted across the marble floor in slow, elegant turns while others pressed close in shadowed corners with low voices.
Beyond the dance floor, small worlds formed of their own accord with luxurious card tables where small fortunes subtly shifted hands.
There were lounges where deals were whispered behind polite smiles and balconies where secrets were exchanged beneath the cold stars.
It was a night of velvet gloves and sharpened edges, where charm masked ambition, and no one was quite as innocent as they appeared.
Beneath the music and the sparkle, something deliciously dangerous pulsed through the room, as if the house itself knew that Christmas Eve was the perfect cover for indulgence, intrigue, and just a little misbehavior.
“Drinks?” Claire asked Noah and Kelsey
“Absolutely,” said Kelsey.
“Yes,” said Noah.
She made her way to the bar where there were three bartenders all lined up, ready to serve.
“2 Bollinger’s please,” a posh British voice behind her interjected. Claire turned around with excitement recognizing the voice.
“Arthur!” Claire giggled and gave the man air kisses and a hug.
“Claire, how are you? It’s been ages! I’m so glad you’re here.
” He grinned, older in the way that came from confidence rather than age and a tuxedo worn around his thin frame like second skin.
“I’m happy there’s finally someone fun here.
Haven’t seen you since last year,” he said, eyeing her properly now.
“You look well. You’ve been busy, yeah?”
Claire accepted the glass of champagne when it arrived, the bubbles crisp and biting. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Arthur leaned an elbow on the bar, lowering his voice. “Saw the pictures. The paps had a field day with you and Jace. Couldn’t open my phone without your face staring back at me.”
She rolled her eyes, lifting her glass. “Lucky me.”
“Still,” he went on gently, “I knew it was over before they did. You never looked happy in those shots. Not really.”
Claire took a measured sip, the bubbles giving her something to focus on. “And yet you were going to come to the wedding. I remember an RSVP.”
“You know I’d do anything for you dear.” Arthur smirked, scanning the room.
“That’s London for you. Appearances, scandal, and the illusion of intimacy.
” He clinked his glass lightly against hers.
“I’m just glad I ran into you.” There was no mistaking to the random bystander, that these two were old friends, and comfortable with each other.
“But tell me, who is the Grizzly Bear and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome that you came in with?” Arthur made gestures to Kelsey and Noah, both looming figures in the room. They looked out of place, but not uncomfortable.
Claire explained everything to Arthur. How she had been working diligently in New Zealand for a professional rugby team and how her mother had taken in Kelsey as her own new best friend, and that Noah is her boyfriend who was visiting for Christmas.
“He looks… delicious,” Arthur commented. He faces Claire. “Introduce me, doctor. I need to see that man up close.”
Across the room, Noah’s attention snagged.
Claire was at the bar, her posture relaxed but she kept glancing over to Noah in the way that made him worry. The man beside her was unfamiliar to him.
He was tall, with light skin and blonde, perfectly shaped hair.
She was too comfortable, too close, leaning in as though he belonged there, and Noah was irrelevant.
Noah’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly as he watched the man smile and watched Claire laugh.
It shouldn’t have mattered. This was a pretend arrangement.
Still, something hot and unreasonable curdled in his chest.
Kelsey appeared at his side like a summoned spirit. “Okay,” he murmured, eyes narrowed, “who is that beautifully attractive man?”
Noah didn’t look away. “I don't know, but I don't like it.”
Kelsey hummed. “Because he’s talking to Claire? Oh, you don’t have to worry. He’s gay.”
Noah just looked at Kelsey in disbelief. “There is no way you can possibly know that.”
He tilted his head, assessing, confirming. “... Yeah… Gay.”
Claire and Arthur started to make their way to Kelsey and Noah standing on the outskirts of the room.
“Oh my God, they’re coming over,” Noah said, looking around the room at whatever, pretending not to have been staring at Claire and the mystery man.
“Act fucking natural, man,” Kelsey said fixing his tux.
The duo did not act natural.
“Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up,” Noah whispered in a panicked tone.
Claire and Arthur made it to the guys, and with a friendly smile, Claire made introductions.
Kelsey and Arthur made very, uncomfortably, fast friends. They were already off exploring the grounds, and looking for places for privacy, leaving Claire and Noah to their own devices.
Claire leaned towards Noah and whispered, “I’m sorry, if this is a little out of your comfort zone, boyfriend.” She was trying to reassure him. “If it matters, it is a bit out of mine too.”
Noah put his arm around Claire’s waist and gave it a little squeeze. He noticed that her drink was gone. “Come on, girlfriend, you are too beautiful to have an empty glass.”
Claire happily obliged and Noah led her by the hand to the bar. For a moment, after their drinks are refilled, he said nothing.
His gaze drifts past her shoulder to the dance floor, where couples dance more in slow, looping patterns beneath the chandeliers. Laughter. Swirls of fabric. Hands rested easily on waists and shoulders. Something in his expression shifts into consideration.
He looked back at Claire. “Would you like to dance?” he asked, voice steady, almost formal. The music swelled as he offered his hand, open and waiting.
Claire hesitated only for a heartbeat before setting her glass aside. She slipped her hand into Noah’s, and the contact alone sent a quiet spark up her arm. His fingers closed around hers with intention, warm and sure, as if the decision had already settled deep in him.
The music seemed to fall away the moment they stepped onto the dance floor and he drew her close.
The room blurred at the edges. Chandeliers, silk gowns, watching eyes, all of it dissolved until there was only the steady rise and fall of his breath and the solid line of his strong body against hers.
Noah’s hand rested at her waist, firm but reverent, pulling her just close enough that she could feel the tension he’d been holding all evening.
Claire tilted her head up, meeting his gaze.
For once, he didn’t look guarded. He looked simply… undone.
They swayed together, slow and seamless, moving as though they’ve practiced this movement in secret. Her hand settled at his shoulder; fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket. The heat between them built, until it felt like the music itself was urging them closer.
Noah leaned in.
It wasn’t rushed or careless this time, not desperate. His forehead brushed hers first, a breath shared, a moment suspended. Then his lips found hers. The kiss was soft at the start, testing, as if asking permission, even after all they had been through.
Claire answered without hesitation.
She kissed him back, deeper this time, and something in him gave.
The kiss turned hungry but controlled, a promise rather than a taking.
The world stayed gone for them. The dance continued around them, unnoticed.
For a moment, it was only Noah and Claire – caught in the middle of a dance floor, utterly alone.
When they finally separated, Claire took Noah’s hand and pulled him in a rush off the dance floor. She gestured to a lone bottle of champagne and some glasses for Noah to snag. He complied, grabbing the necessities and followed Claire into the open of the Kensington foyer.
The couple went from room to room, seeing each occupied with various scenarios. People smoking cigars and playing billiards, people talking business in low whispers, couples taking wicked pleasure in dark corners.
They found the conservatory to be the most unused room at the moment.
The conservatory was dim and hushed; moonlight spilled through the glass ceiling and scattered across marble floors and lush greenery. The sounds of the ball faded into a distant echo, replaced by the faint clink of glasses as Noah opened the bottle.
He poured without ceremony.
They didn’t even toast. They each downed a glass of champagne, and he quickly poured another.
Claire barely had time to set her next glass down before Noah’s hand found her waist again, more certain now, pulling her into the shelter of the palms and ferns. The air smelled like citrus and night-blooming flowers, warm and intoxicating.
He kissed her like he’d been holding himself back for far too long.
It was deeper than before, exposed. His mouth moved against hers with intent, and Claire answered instinctively, fingers sliding into his short hair, tugging just enough to feel him exhale against her lips.
The champagne, the music still humming faintly in her ears, the way his body cages her in, she didn’t want it to stop. She wanted more.
They broke apart only long enough to breathe, before going right back to it.
Finally, Noah rested his forehead against hers, eyes dark, thumb brushing along her jaw as if memorizing the shape of her.
When he kissed her again it was slower, lingering, full of promise.
The world beyond the glass wall of the conservatory might as well not exist.
“We should go back,” Noah whispered to Claire.
“I don't want to,” she said, placing kisses along the corners of his lips.
“Claire,” Noah stopped her. She didn’t stop. She grabbed his face and kissed him again with unchecked passion. He could smell the champagne on her breath. She was moving her kisses down his neck. “Claire, we have to stop now.”
Claire was reaching for the pant button below his cumberbun and started to unfasten it.
“Claire. Not here.” Noah pushed Claire’s hands away and his cumberbun back in place. He lifted her with ease, so she was standing tall again. But she was smiling, face flushed, still trying to kiss him. “You’re drunk, Claire.”
She just nodded to him in confirmation with a dopey smile on her face. He sat her down in the green metal chair placed at the center of the conservatory. She slumped over, half asleep. He knew he had to take her home.
He scoffed at her in amusement. It was now his job, the captain’s job, to keep her safe.
“Just my luck,” he whispered to himself.
Noah sent a quick text to Kelsey, telling him that he was taking Claire home, and to let Suzanne and Cornelius know. He was not expecting to get a response from his teammate who was already probably fucking that Arthur guy somewhere on the grounds of this vast property.
The valet outside called for the driver to bring the couple back to the Ashford house, and then Noah and a very drunk Claire spilled into the back seat of the car.
The vehicle purred softly as it pulled away from the estate, gravel crunching beneath the tires before the road smoothed out. The alcohol has dulled the edges of the night, and Claire’s body relaxes against Noah’s.
At first, it’s just her head that tipped toward him. Then her weight settled fully against his shoulder, warm and trusting. Her breathing evened out, and she fell asleep. A loose strand of hair brushed his jaw every time the car hit a small bump.
He didn’t move her, not even when his arm started to ache from holding her in place.
He looked down at her in the low glow of passing streetlights.
Her lashes rested against her cheeks, lips slightly parted.
Her neck was bare, and it took all of his restraint to not kiss and lick every inch of that neck.
The woman who he has been obsessing over for months and months, kissed him without hesitation, and now sleeps against him like she belonged there.
As the Ashford home came into view far too soon, he had to make the decision if he would let tonight have the top spot in his very short list of life regrets.
He recognized that she was ready to take their relationship, or whatever it is they have, to the next level, but at that moment, who he assumed was the love of his life, was drunk and sleepy.
He carried her up to their shared room, and helped her get unready, only stealing glances at her naked body, like a doting husband, and then got her ready for bed. Without expectation, he kissed her forehead, and she slept soundly, nuzzled up next to her Captain.