The offspring of a luxury cruise ship chief purser and chief staff engineer, Solar was used to being in the company of people who knew things. Mastermind that she was, Solar made it a habit to learn the things that they knew, via eavesdropping, polite inquiry, or helping them loosen their lips with a bespoke hooch called “This is what formed the canyon in the Grand Canyon, the Colorado River just gets all the credit... moreThe offspring of a luxury cruise ship chief purser and chief staff engineer, Solar was used to being in the company of people who knew things. Mastermind that she was, Solar made it a habit to learn the things that they knew, via eavesdropping, polite inquiry, or helping them loosen their lips with a bespoke hooch called “This is what formed the canyon in the Grand Canyon, the Colorado River just gets all the credit.” Her active listening skills, in addition to her careful pouring technique, helped her gain the knowledge to become one of the most prolific short-sellers anywhere. Using part of her college fund, she’d made her first million by the time she was fifteen. By the time she was twenty, she—and her sisters and their progeny—never had to work again. But that didn’t stop her from working. Her job was getting hired by companies going out of business and then seeing just how many shenanigans she could get away with before they asked her to leave. One time, they’d tried firing her; but she just bought the company and fired the guy trying to fire her…before quitting…and using the loss as a tax write-off. Her days were filled with shenanigans; her nights were filled with f*ckery, minus the d*ck. And then, one day, she broke her own rule and did something dumb. She RSVPed to a Not Jesus’ Real Birthday Day (Christmas) dinner as her family had elected to go somewhere that required a coat, which was a “no, no thank you, NFW” for her. Had she known this was an alternative Not Jesus’ Real Birthday Day meal, hosted by people who a) didn’t have a stove; b) had “alternative” meat; and c) didn’t eat bread, she would’ve just wrecking-ball-craned the entire community and put everyone out of their misery. If Azur Dragonera did what he always did, he would’ve been sequestered in his lab engaged in research. A vampire in his prime, everyone was trying to marry him off, so he’d fled to southern California because six-thousand miles between him and his family was a good start. He’d planned to spend the holiday alone in his presidential suite at the five-star resort with all the accoutrements that came with it. But his mamá was involved and she’d involved his friend, and now he was attending a pre-Christmas meal. Nothing on that buffet was going in his mouth, but no worries, he had a front row seat to all **** breaking lose. Someone should’ve told that Solar that there wasn’t going to be meat, or bread, or cooked food, or any give-a-damn that all of those things were missing. Anyone with a modicum of sense could see that this scene was going bad quickly, but meat deprivation and taste deprivation will cause all manner of side effects. The look on her face promised retribution. However, when the words “fake-meat-eating butt-sunner” spilled from that tempting mouth, Azur knew one of the side effects was about to be a massacre, which was out of place for the season. Perhaps if Solar hadn’t been so tempting, he would’ve sat back and watched chaos unfold, but she was tempting, and he had a luxury helicopter at his disposal, and a hotel an hour away that had a full-on Christmas spread…complete with five kinds of bread. Solar was his…she just didn’t know it, but any man who saw the look on his visage would know without a doubt that he was on the hunt. less
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