Page 15 of Bought By Santa

The Breeder

Blinking awake, I feel groggy and… I don’t know. Uneasy, I guess. I sit up and reach for the lamp on the bedside table, switching it on. Although I’m still alone, I feel like I’m being watched. It wouldn’t even surprise me if there are cameras in here so the psycho Santa can keep an eye on me.

Scoffing at the idea, I get out of bed, needing to stretch. The way my muscles creak and protest tells me I’ve been sleeping forlonger than I should. After freshening up in the bathroom, I walk over to the large bedroom windows and pull the curtains back.

“Wow!” I whisper, completely awestruck at the view that greets me of Central Park, blanketed in fresh snow, glowing under the city lights.

The trees are dusted in white, shimmering like jewels against the night sky. Not only is the view breathtaking, it’s so… majestic. The snowy expanse of the park stretching out beneath me, making everything feel beautifully still and surreal. It’s like the whole city is wrapped in a winter spell, and I can’t look away.

A bitter laugh escapes my lips as I realize I’ve gotten what I wanted—at least partly. Assuming Santa isn’t going to let me go, then, for now, I live in a prestigious area, one I’ve lusted after for years.

Talk about getting your wish delivered in a twisted way.

I take one last look at the winter wonderland below before turning away from the darkness. I wish I knew how long I’ve been here, how long I’ve slept the first and second time. But without any clocks in sight, there’s no way to gauge the passing of time.

Sure, it’s dark outside, but that hardly tells me anything this time a year. When he made his outrageous proposal, it felt like we were talking for hours, but in reality, it might only be minutes.

A sad laugh bubbles up my throat, but I swallow it down. It doesn’t matter if it’s been days or weeks, because the only person who’ll miss me is Willow. And she’s… well, she’s not exactly able to throw herself into a rescue mission.

My thoughts stray to Willow as I look out of the window. I need my phone so I can text her, let her know I’m okay before she starts to worry. If it’s still the weekend, she’ll be busy with arts and crafts at the care home, so there’s a chance she hasn’t noticed my absence yet.

I whip around as the door opens, and the guy strides into the bedroom. He’s carrying a tray with a bowl of something that looks like pasta, and a bottle of water.

“Do you always sleep this much?” he asks, walking over to the vanity table where he places the food.

I just shrug before asking a question of my own. “What day is it?”

“Sunday,” he replies.

Shit. “I need to call my sister,” I rush out, my voice high with the growing panic I feel. “She’ll worry and I have to… please. I’m all she has.”

“I’ve texted your sister,” he says, gesturing at his food. “She’s fine.”

I pin him with my stare. “I said I need to speak with her,” I all but growl.

“Eat first,” he says, like that’s more important than Willow. “You can talk to your sister later. You must be starving.” The way he takes care of my needs is… daunting. I almost think I’d prefer if he were shouting and threatening me.

“Yeah,” I confirm. “I am.”

Since I believe his earlier words about not wanting to poison me, I accept the food and water without any objections.

While I eat, I pretend not to notice the way he’s studying me. But I can feel his eyes on me, burning into my skin. I hate the way my body reacts under his stare. I hope he can’t see the way my nipples tighten.

“Stop watching me,” I huff.

“No.” That’s it, that’s all he says.

Scoffing, I do my best to tune him out while I finish the huge plate of food. Once I’m done, I shuffle over to the bed and sit down at the edge. “Tell me more about this deal you mentioned,” I say, swirling my hand in the air in a ‘go-on’ motion.

He sits down in the same chair at the end of the bed he had sat in earlier. “Straight to business, huh?” His voice is dark and deliciously husky.

I nod. “Why not? It’s not like I have much of a choice.” Licking my lips, I let my eyes trail the length of his impressive body, the suit he’s wearing isn’t hiding how built he is.

When our eyes lock, he raises a brow, and I shrug. I don’t care if he’s seeing me checking him out. I’m caught in-between a rock and a hard place, so sue me for trying to find any redeeming qualities about this shit show that is my life.

“You want to breed me,” I remind him, like he could have forgotten what he said earlier. “Tell me what it is you want from me, exactly.”

“I want everything from you, Carolina,” he answers, and the simplicity of it terrifies me more than any threat could.

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