A Villain for Christmas (The Holyoake Christmas Series, Book 2)

A Star Rises

After an hour Billie had realised two things: firstly, she was the only person at the table who wasn't consuming copious amounts of alcohol. Given, some - namely, the man sitting next to her, as well as the blonde on his other side - didn't seem particularly affected by the booze. By the way, it hadn't escaped Billie's attention that when she'd left for the loo, he'd switched places with her, and was now sitting between her and the publicist.

The second point of interest was that the aforementioned man said exactly nothing since Billie had been forced to her current proximity to him. From time to time Ms. Moretti would beckon him or simply pull him by the collar of his elegant knitted cardigan, and whisper something in his ear.

On this note, Billie had never seen a man wear a button-up - three top buttons open! - and a stylish warm scarf with such an effortless, relaxed chic; and in a pub of all places! He didn't look overdressed or excessively pampered. The clothes were obviously a weather-related choice, and there was no artifice in his overall appearance; but - goodness! - he looked like a magazine photo! The same went for the dishevelled mane of his lavish curls and his beard. Now that Billie had gotten over her first shock from his furriness, she was starting to see how balanced his appearance was. Men didn't interest her, thank you very much, but she could appreciate the natural charm of a confident male, who was comfortable in his skin, and who was clean and put together, without fussing over trimming their beard or shaving their neck.

"I'd say, 'Take a picture and it'll last longer!" Ms. Moretti shouted to Billie, leaning forward and around the man. Billie jumped up and gawked at the blonde. "But you can just download tons of them from the web," Ms. Moretti continued. "Eric, sweetheart, pay attention to her! She can't take her eyes off you!"

"I can! And I don't need any attention!" Billie cried out - and Ms. Moretti burst into loud laughter.

How the man reacted was unknown to Billie, since she couldn't face him. He was still just as silent, and Billie considered possible ways to make herself scarce.

"You should just get it out of your system, both of you!" Ms. Moretti continued. "Bottling it all up can't possibly be good for one's health. And besides, you two don't have any other–"

"Evening."

Ms. Moretti stopped mid-sentence and peered at the man who's just approached their table unbeknownst to Billie. 

Makes sense. His kind are famous for sneaking up on you. Deadly and silent, they are.

"Holy shit!" someone exclaimed at the table.

That was a common reaction to the man currently standing in front of their table - but the inclusion of the word 'holy' was rather ironic.

"Good evening, Reverend," Billie muttered, and a few people definitely threw her shocked glances.

Yes, that is our vicar. I know, mind-boggling, Billie jeered internally. Compared to the man, young Timothy Dalton was unsightly.

Whispers ran among the people at the table, the usual 'is he a priest?' and 'god, he's hot!' mixed into them. The man smiled, and a choked noise escaped Ms. Moretti. Let's face it, even an inanimate object - a coat hanger or that toucan bell over there - would be overcome with arousal near the man.

"I thought I'd stop by and welcome you all to Fleckney," the Reverend Holyoake said. "Ms. Bondarenko, it's an honour. I was introduced to your art by my partner. I'm an admirer."

"You're another of the Holyoakes, aren't you?" the director asked from her end of the table. "Your genetics are really wasted on all these mundane jobs, you know?"