Page 21 of Bought By Santa

Me: Sorry, was with Jack. Thanks for the list. You’re right, you’re the best little sister!

Ruby: Who’s it for?

Me: I’m going through a tunnel and can’t answer.

I chuckle out loud as her immediate reply comes in.

Ruby: Whatever. I’ll grill Jack for info!

I chuckle to myself, having no doubt Jack will spill everything. Ruby is persistent, and it’s usually easier to give her what she wants than fight her.

Me: Are you busy today?

Ruby: God no. Do you need anything? Please say you do. You know I can’t go anywhere without you or Michael saying so.

My heart contracts at the reminder of the life she’s living. Life… I snort to myself. That isn’t fucking living, it’s surviving.

Since what I need is too hard to explain in a text, I send my sister a voice message, asking her to contact Ability Acres, the care home Willow Sterling is staying in. I’d go there myself, but I want to get back to Carolina. Besides, Ruby is much better at this stuff. She’s used to dealing with businesses, and can undoubtedly charm her way inside if she pretends she’s a potential investor.

Ruby: You got it.

Placing my phone in the holder, I tear away from the curb and head toward the nearest shop. Fuck, I don’t even know what kind of shop I should go to. A drug store could help with the actual period products, but I doubt they sell the rest my sister demanded I buy. Since I don’t usually do my own shopping, I’m kind of at a loss for where to go.

I keep driving until I come across one of the big chains. Unbothered by the people shouting at me, I park in the disabled zone and stride into the store. The fluorescent lights of the place are harsh, clinical, but I’m not here for ambiance. I’m here for Carolina.

Tampons first. I scan the aisle, rows upon rows of feminine products, staring back at me like an army ready for battle. Regular, super, overnight, what the hell do these even mean? I grab an assortment of both tampons and pads, not skimping on quantity.

Next, chocolate. Not just any chocolate—I pile up the fanciest looking ones, the ones wrapped in gold foil and promising exotic flavors. Dark, milk, with almonds, sea salt, caramel fillings. If there’s a hint of pleasure to be found in their taste, Carolina will experience it.

I’m not sure why I care so much, and I refuse to examine it. Instead, I keep going. My basket’s getting heavy, but I don’t stop. Heat pads, fluffy socks, a silky robe that looks like it’ll feel like heaven against her skin.

Aromatherapy candles, bath bombs that smell of lavender and jasmine, a plush blanket that begs to be curled up in—at least that’s what the smiling woman on the sign claims. I add a giant teddy bear for good measure, its soft fur under my fingers reminding me of the way Carolina’s hair felt when I brushed it aside.

“Anything else?” the cashier asks, raising an eyebrow as the conveyor belt overflows.

“Is there?” I challenge, daring him to suggest I’ve missed something. But he shakes his head, ringing up the items with a kind of reverence reserved for the absurd.

“Taking care of someone special?” he tries to make small talk.

“Something like that,” I reply curtly, swiping my card without flinching at the total.

After loading the bags into the vehicle, I rush home, eager to see Carolina again. By the time I pull into the garage, I feel a sense of urgency.

Huh, that’s not usually how I react. Then again, how would I know? Carolina is the first woman that isn’t family to set foot in my home. Sure, I’ve had an abundance of one-night-stands in my life, but I’ve either fucked them at their place, or one of the Knight owned hotels.

Elevator doors open, and I step into the penthouse, the bags crinkling in my arms. It’s a bizarre sight, me laden with comforts instead of weapons or threats. Luckily, Marco doesn’t comment on it as he greets me, instead he tries to take some of the bags. But I shake my head and head straight for the bedroom.

“Wait,” he calls after me. “You should know that—”

“Not now,” I growl. “Whatever it is, it can wait until later.”

Pushing open the bedroom door, I find Carolina is no longer in bed. The water’s running in the bathroom, so after putting down the bags, I knock softly. When she doesn’t answer, I push the handle down to find she’s locked herself inside. “Carolina,” I call out, slamming my fist against the door. “Open up right fucking now.”

“I’m in the shower,” she shouts back.

Her dismissal angers me. “Open. The. Damn. Door.” The water shuts off, and a moment later, she unlocks and opens the door. “What’s the matter?” I ask as soon as I see her face, taking her hand and pulling her to me.

She looks up at me through wide eyes filled with fear, and… is that shame? “I-I’m so s-sorry, Nicklas,” she stutters. “I’ll fix it. I promise.”

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