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Chapter 1

Martel

I’et away froht from the Baccarat carafe

“Roan, please” She givessmile “Tell him”

“You need a new suit” Roan tosses back his own aives me an amused look

“Why are you even here?” I snap at Roan who snort-chuckles and shrugs toward my mother

“He’s a regular Jolly Old St Nick” He walks over to the bar and pours hier of scotch

“And you’re a regular—"

My mother interrupts “He’s here because I invited hi to check into your hotel and God knohen I’d see you We have twelve bedroouest house You could stay out there” Myhere, we’d never see you Holidays, weddings and funerals…”

“I hope you’ll co from the bar to take a seat on the royal-blue velvet sofa next toher classic two-piece Chanel suit, with three layers of pearls and her ht out of the salon, as usual

“I rit out atroorew up

As it is every year, the entire twelve thousand square feet of this preposterous home is professionally decorated for Christ everywhere and so hts I’m about to have a seizure

It’s January 5th, and for most people Christmas is over Not for us Both sides of eneration here in the US but in our world, January 7th is the day of the celebration, not December 25th like it is for most everyone else

The headache that started as soon as I packedintois, I like Christmas For the bulk of my youth, we spent traditional Russian Christrandparents’ house in Townley, PA