Page 16 of Bought By Santa

His words echo in my head, a heavy weight that threatens to crush me. And yet, beneath the fear and the fight, there’s something else—a flicker of curiosity about the man hiding beneath a bushy beard. But I push it down, lock it away.

“I’ll make it easy for you to choose,” he croons. “Your options are death or carrying my heir.”

Although I had already worked that out for myself, hearing it said out loud so casually is an entirely different matter. The room spins, and I fight to keep my composure. Death—a word that hangs over me, a shroud waiting to fall. My mind flashes to Willow, her smile, her laughter. She’s all I have left.

“Death?” My voice trembles despite my best efforts to sound defiant.

He leans closer, his head cocked as if examining prey. “Yes, that’s one option.” I can’t read his face, but his eyes—they glimmer with a predatory glee. What sick game is this? “Choose wisely, Carolina.” His voice drops to a whisper, a devil’s caress. “I’m not known for my patience.”

Unable to sit still any longer, I get off the bed and walk over to the fireplace. I know I shouldn’t turn my back on him, but… oh, who am I kidding? This man has all the power whether I’m facing him or not.

I need a minute to process all of this, and I can’t do that while looking at the fake bushy beard. Dread pools in my stomach. Death or a deal with the devil himself? My life, Willow’s future, it all hangs in the balance.

Knowing he has me beat, I sigh and turn back around to face him, squaring my shoulders. “Give me the details,” I demand, trying to mask the quiver in my voice with bravado. “What does giving you an heir entail?”

“Smart girl.” He straightens up, nodding approvingly. “Always best to know what you’re agreeing to. The devil is in the details, after all.”

No, the devil is here, in this room, looking at me like he’s contemplating all the ways he wants to use me.

I glare at him, my fear mingling with anger. The need to protect Willow gives me courage, or perhaps its reckless desperation. Whatever it is, I cling to it. “Just tell me already.” My eyes burn into his, searching for any hint of humanity, but finding none.

The tension coils tighter, a spring ready to snap. I’m trapped, bound by circumstance, my fate intertwined with a man hidden behind a festive disguise and sinister intentions. I have to make a choice. For survival. For Willow. For the glimpse of hope that still flickers, stubborn and persistent, within me.

He stands up and walks over to where I’m standing, and I catch the scent of pine and something darker, like a snow-covered forest hiding predators. The room is silent, save for the crackling fire and my ragged breaths. His next words are ice, chilling the air between us. “Ten million dollars to bear mychild.” The sentence hangs heavy, a guillotine poised to sever my future from my past. “And you must conceive by Christmas.”

A cold sweat drenches my skin. Ten million dollars. The sum echoes through my mind like the chime of a cursed bell, each toll weighing down on my chest. I should be repulsed, terrified at the thought of carrying the child of a man who is synonymous with danger, whose very presence sends shivers crawling up my spine.

“Think about it, Carolina.” His voice slices through my spiraling thoughts, every syllable laced with power. “You wouldn’t have to poke holes in condoms anymore.”

My heart stammers at his knowledge, and I hate him for reminding me of my own desperation. He’s observed my darkest moments, seen through the façade of the sophisticated life I’ve pretended to lead. It’s as if he’s peeling back my layers, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.

The money he offers is life changing, too much to decline on the principle of morals I don’t even have. Ten million dollars would secure both mine and Willow’s futures; it would be a sanctuary in a world where we have none.

It gnaws at me, this choice between swift damnation and cruel salvation.

“Is that even possible?” The question slips out before I can censor it, my mind grappling with logistics over morality.

There’s a gleam in his eyes, a predator sighting its prey. “It is,” he confirms.

“Christmas,” I whisper, the word a mingling of dread and wonder. It’s insane, impossible, and yet…

The room feels too small; the walls pressing in. My sister’s face dances before my eyes, her smile the beacon guiding me through this tempest. What am I willing to sacrifice for her? My body? My soul? It’s not even a question, I was already willing tobecome pregnant to ensnare a rich man. This way, I at least have a guarantee of money.

A tremble courses through me, a leaf caught in a storm, as I lift my gaze to meet his obscured one. “And what makes you think I’d agree to this madness?” My voice is a whisper of defiance, but my heart betrays me with its frantic beating.

“Because, Carolina,” he starts, his tone void of mockery. “You’re a survivor. You’ll do anything for your sister. And deep down, you know I’m your best option.”

He’s right, and the realization tastes bitter on my tongue, a pill too large to swallow. Yet, amid the fear and reluctance, a tiny spark ignites within me—the possibility of a future without the constant struggle, the endless worry.

I take a deep breath, watching him as he folds his arms across his chest. Though his eyes are cold, there’s a flicker of something hidden in the depths, something I’ve also heard hints of in his voice. “You need this,” I breathe, finally realizing the magnitude of the situation. “You’re trying to turn the tables on me, making it sound like I’m the only one who’s desperate.”

His eyes crinkle with amusement, but he doesn’t speak.

Feeling bolder, I lift my chin. “I have conditions of my own.”

His broad shoulders shake with unshed laughter. “I expected nothing less,” he chuckles darkly.

“I won’t be your prisoner,” I demand, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth. “And you’ll pay all my expenses for December, including Willow’s care—”

---