Page 17 of Bought By Santa

He interrupts me with a scoff. “We can call you my guest if that makes you feel better. But you will live here with me, share my bed, and only do what I allow.” His tone makes it clear this isn’t up for discussion. “And, yes. I’ll pay for strangers to take care of the sister you’re too busy to look after yourself.”

My hands ball into fists, and I suck in a sharp breath of air. His assessment, though wrong, hurts. The truth is that I can’t takecare of my sister by myself. I want to, so damn much. But the shitty studio I’m renting isn’t exactly disability friendly, not that I’ll tell him that. Let him think I’m a cold-hearted monster.

“I have work to do,” I say, inwardly cringing as I think about the money I’ve already lost out on.

“No, you don’t,” he says. When I open my mouth to argue, he presses his index finger against my lips. “I’ve deleted your Cam Girl site and shut down your account for good.”

“You what?” I screech, angered beyond belief. “You had no right to do that, and I need the money.”

He just shrugs. “No, you don’t. Take my offer and you’ll never want for anything again.”

My entire body shakes with anger, and, yeah, humiliation. I’m not proud of the way I’ve been making money. Though I’m not exactly embarrassed either. I’ve done what I could, what was needed. I refuse to feel bad about that.

The thing is, as great as his offer is, and no matter how amazing ten million sounds, it isn’t going to last me forever. Not in New York, and not with everything Willow needs. And what about taxes? And… I bet there are things I haven’t even thought about yet.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Santa observes, dryly. “If you say no, that’s it. There’ll be no second chance for you.”

Sighing, I consider if I should ask for more money, but before I can even come up with an amount to counter with, he speaks again.

“I’ll throw in an apartment. One for you and your sister. One where you never have to pay rent again.”

Well… shit. I can’t say no to that. “Wait, what happens if I don’t become pregnant before Christmas?” This is something I need to know before I can even consider it. If he’s just going to kill me anyway, that’s a lot of pressure to put on my poor womb.

“What do you mean?”

Meeting his gaze straight on, I roll my shoulders back, feigning confidence. “I still want to be paid, and I want your word I get to walk away from you. Alive.”

He tilts his head to the side, eyeing me curiously. “Deal. If you’re not pregnant by Christmas, I’ll pay you two million for your troubles, and you’ll be free to leave.”

Looking down at my bare feet, I pretend to ponder this. In reality, I’ve already agreed in my mind. But he doesn’t need to know he has me, so I bide my time while shifting my weight from one foot to another.

Although I’m acting calm, I’m anything but. My mind is racing, trying to come up with ways to escape. At the same time, I’m trying not to entertain those stupid thoughts. There’s no escaping this. It’s happening whether I want it or not.

Maybe I should… no. I need to accept this. “Okay,” I finally whisper, feeling as though I’m signing my life away. “I’ll do it.” I raise my head, looking into his dark eyes.

He nods. “Just so we’re clear, the deal is that I pay you ten million dollars to conceive and carry my heir. If you’re successful, I’ll pay for everything you need until one year after giving birth. At which time you’ll walk away with the full ten million. Obviously, you’ll never be permitted to see the child again. If you’re unsuccessful, I’ll pay you two million, give you a place to live, and you get to walk away, free to live your life free of me.”

“Okay,” I repeat.

“One more thing,” he says. “If you ever tell anyone about this deal or about me, your sister will pay the price. I’ll make her suffer in ways you can’t even imagine, Carolina. Is that clear?”

Tears gather in my eyes, making me blink furiously to stop them from falling. “Yes, I understand,” I croak around the ball of emotions in my throat.

My heart beats a staccato rhythm, matching the seconds slipping away. I’m hyper-aware of him as he stands before me, a menacing Santa in this perverse holiday tale.

“In that case,” he rasps. “Time to unveil the man behind the myth.” His fingers hook beneath the white beard as he takes a step back, putting more distance between us.

The fabric peels away from his skin with a whisper, and I find myself holding my breath. The hat follows, a slow reveal that feels like unwrapping the most twisted of Christmas presents. And then, there he is—a real life Adonis if I ever saw one. I can’t help but gape. His features are sharp, carved from stone by a skilled sculptor. There’s a ruggedness to him that no amount of civilization could tame.

“Do you know who I am?” His voice is thick with amusement, eyes glinting with something unrecognizable.

Shaking my head, I continue to study him; a scar slashes across his face—a jagged line that starts at the bridge of his nose and carves a path down his cheek. It’s a flaw that enhances rather than detracts, adding to the dangerous allure of the man who now owns me.

“No. Should I?” I ask, swallowing harshly as I answer his question with one of my own. My eyes trace the contours of his face, the ink-black hair, the predatory gaze. He’s not just handsome; he’s devastating. Which is fitting since he holds the power to ruin me, wipe me from the face of the earth without anyone but my sister and uncaring mom even knowing I ever existed.

His smirk tells me he enjoys my discomfort. But there’s also an intensity in his gaze that holds me captive, even without the restraints. It’s as if he’s searching for something within me, some sign of acquiescence or maybe something else.

“It wouldn’t be good for you if you did.” His approval sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. “But you can call me Nicklas.”

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