Page 14 of Bought By Santa

Rather than answering me, he stops moving, studying me like he’s committing every movement I make to memory. “You need money,” he says. “And I need an heir.”

What the actual hell? Surely this man can’t be for real. “An heir?” I echo. “You want to… to… breed me like a bitch in heat?”

The man throws his head back and laughs loudly. “That’s not how I was going to phrase it, Hellcat. But sure.”

Hating that he knows all these things about me while I know nothing about him, I ask, “Who are you? What’s your name?”

A knock sounds, and the man opens the door. A smartly dressed woman walks in with a tray in her hands. “Where do you want the food, sir?” she asks.

He points at the foot of the bed. “There’s fine.”

She nods curtly, and places the tray on the mattress. My stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl as the scents of food hit my nostrils. Oh my God, it smells delicious.

“Hungry?” he asks sardonically as soon as the woman’s gone again.

I nod eagerly, watching as he moves over to a chair in the corner and pulls it to the foot of the bed. Taking his time, he makes himself comfortable, crossing one leg over the other while steepling his fingers together. “Well, what are you waiting for? Dig in.”

Wasting no time, I reach for the silver dome and remove it to reveal a plate filled with freshly cut and peeled fruit, scrambled eggs, bacon, and bread. Forgetting all about manners and appearances, I pick up the silver fork and start shoveling very unladylike sized portions into my mouth, barely chewing before the next bite.

There’s another knock, but I don’t look up, too focused on the food. When I finally feel like my stomach isn’t eating itself, I lean back, daintily wiping my mouth with the cloth napkin the cutlery was wrapped in. “Thank you,” I breathe.

He chuckles. “You’re very welcome. Thirsty?”

I look up at him from beneath my lashes to see him holding out a crystal glass filled with what I assume to be orange juice. “Yes,” I admit, taking the glass from his outstretched hand.

Now that I’m no longer focused on basic necessities like needing the bathroom, hunger and thirst, I scramble back up the bed and lean against the headboard. My eyes flick around the room, and just as I’m about to ask why I’m really here, a thought hits me, making my blood run cold. “Y-you didn’t poison the food, did you?” My voice wavers.

He lets out a booming laugh. “I can assure you that if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t poison you,” he laughs, like that’s meant to make me feel at ease.

“Right,” I mutter, mostly to myself. “You’d shoot me in the head like the guy last night.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I slap my hand across my lips. Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.

Amusement sparkles in his dark eyes as his tattooed hand cups his chin. “I wouldn’t dream of shooting someone as beautiful as you in the head,” he rasps.

What the hell do I even say to that? Feeling like I can’t just ignore it, I mumble, “Umm… thank you.”

He waves me off with a tattooed hand, sitting straighter. “Don’t mention it.” When I let out a heavy sigh, he stands abruptly. “I think we’ve talked enough for now. You should rest.”

I shouldn’t feel disappointed that my captor tells me he’s going to leave me alone, yet I am. Not because I want his company—good riddance—but because I don’t feel as though we’ve done a lot of talking. I mean, I’m still not completely sure what it is he wants from me, and I hate not knowing.

Before I can tell him that I’ve never felt more awake, and that I want more answers, he strides into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind him. I grumble something sarcastic about him getting privacy in there and when I hear his chuckle, I know he heard me. Good.

It doesn’t take long before he reemerges with a basket filled with items I can’t see. Though I can imagine it’s filled with thingsthat can be used as a weapon, which I suspect is the reason he wouldn’t let me pee in peace.

“I’ll be back later. Feel free to shower and look around the bedroom, but don’t walk out that door. In fact, don’t touch it at all.” With those words, he leaves the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

I huff out an annoyed breath. What was the point of telling me not to touch the door when he’s locked it? It feels like a test, one I can’t afford to fail. So no matter how much it calls to me like a beacon, I tell myself to ignore it.

Now that he’s gone, I suddenly feel exhausted beyond belief. But I refuse to go back to sleep without at least cleaning my body. So I take him up on the offer to shower.

In the bathroom I find everything I need already waiting near the sink. Towels, a brand new toothbrush still in its packaging, shampoo, conditioner, and even some lotions and deodorant. Not wanting to think too much about what that means, I tear the shirt off and take what I need with me into the shower, ignoring the gigantic corner jacuzzi for now.

After I’m clean and dry, I leave the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around me since I don’t have any clothes. I was just going to wrap the sheet around me, but what I find is so much better.

On the bed there’s a pile of clothing waiting for me. Everything from underwear to jeans, even a very nice, deep-red negligee. With the fire still going, I don’t need the sweater in the pile, so I opt for a pair of sleeping shorts and a tank top.

Once I’m dressed, I climb back into bed, hiding my head beneath the sheet. Although my mind should be exploding with thoughts, it’s not. It’s almost like the overload of everything has rendered me unable to think at all. Closing my eyes, I let myself drift off to sleep, knowing there’s nothing else I can do to pass the time.

Chapter 7

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