Page 42 of Bought By Santa

My hellcat is above such rules, especially as the future mother to my first, and hopefully all, heirs. I meant what I told her yesterday; I’m hers, and she already knows she’s mine.

Ruby’s eyes narrow as Carolina takes her seat beside me, and her lips curl into a snarl. “So, this is your latest purchase?” Ruby’s voice drips with disdain, an icy challenge that fills the room.

“Ruby,” her husband’s tone is a low growl, barely audible over the servers that immediately begin to place food on the table. “Enough.”

Her cheeks flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment, but she doesn’t back down. She never does. I can’t help but admire her spirit, even as it grates against me. “No. I’m sorry, but this is not okay. Nicklas bought her services. How can we all just be okay with that?”

The tension in the dining room is a living thing, undulating through the air like smoke. Ruby’s words hang heavy, and I can’t help but tighten my grip on Carolina’s thigh.

I stare at my sister for a long moment, my jaw clenching as I consider the myriad of ways I could put her in her place. But before I can decide on a course of action, I catch sight of Dad. His lips press into a thin line as he stares at us. That familiar disapproval etched across his face is like a cold splash of reality—Dad doesn’t take lightly to risks that could threaten our legacy.

“Why is she here?” he asks, authority clinging to each word. His cold eyes stay on Carolina, who averts her gaze.

“Carolina is here because I want her to be,” I say firmly, my voice a clear declaration. “She belongs at this table, by my side.”

Dad’s glower intensifies. “I asked why,” he repeats. “You have more important things to do than flaunt your newest toy around.”

“Carolina isn’t just a guest,” I declare, loud enough for all to hear, my fingers tracing idle patterns on her skin beneath the table. “She’s the future of this family.”

Across from me, Jack shovels another forkful of food into his mouth, seemingly oblivious to the show playing out before him. His indifference is almost comical compared to the rest of us caught in the undertow of family politics. It’s as if he’s made an art out of detachment, his role more shadow than substance within the Knight empire.

“Pass the salt, please,” Jack mutters, reaching across the table without a glance in our direction. The trivial request falls flat in the thick atmosphere, yet somehow only heightens the absurdity of it all.

I turn back to Carolina, whose eyes are wide with quiet apprehension. “Should I leave?” she whispers.

“Absolutely not,” I reply harshly. “You belong here.You belong with me.”

The tension in the dining room is thick enough to carve with a steak knife, but Arthur seems to find it all terribly amusing. From across the table, his eyes glint with undisguised mirth, soaking in the undercurrents of animosity like it’s the evening’s entertainment.

“Quite the family gathering we’ve got here,” he drawls, lifting his wineglass in a half salute. “Never a dull moment with the Knights, eh?”

I’d bristle at the condescension if I wasn’t so focused on Carolina beside me. She’s rigid, her hands folded neatly in her lap like she’s holding herself together by sheer willpower. I hate that she feels this way—on display, cornered by suspicion and judgment. My gaze cuts through the opulence of the room, daring anyone else to add to her discomfort.

As everyone fills their plates with the different meat, vegetables, and whatever else has been placed on the table, Itake my hellcat’s plate. “Let me,” I say softly, reaching for the silver serving tongs.

There’s a subtle shift in the air as I plate a delicate portion of roasted lamb onto Carolina’s dish. It’s not just about feeding her; it’s an assertion, a silent declaration that she’s under my protection. My thumb brushes against her hand as I pass her the plate, a fleeting touch that speaks volumes.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. But her eyes—those deep pools of uncertainty—lock onto mine with a fierce intensity that says more than words ever could.

Arthur watches us, his head tilted in curiosity. “You two seem quite… attuned to each other,” he comments lazily. “It’s fascinating.”

As dinner progresses, I keep my attention on Carolina, ensuring her glass is filled with sparkling water instead of wine, pouring it myself to avoid any mistakes. She catches the gesture, a grateful gleam in her eyes that warms something inside me.

“I have a question,” Arthur says. Everyone stops moving and talking the moment he opens his mouth, sending the room to a crashing halt. “How did you meet Sienna?” The question is clearly meant for Dad.

He clears his throat, wiping his mouth and taking a sip of wine before answering. “You know how,” he almost growls.

“Indeed,” Arthur agrees, smirking. “But I’d still like to hear your answer.”

Dad gives a sharp nod. “I bought her at one of the Hatt auctions.”

This isn’t news to anyone at the table… well, I suppose it is to the woman at my side. I quickly lean in and whisper, “Sienna was my mom,” just so she knows who we’re talking about.

“And what about you, Michael?” Arthur asks, looking straight at Ruby’s husband. “How did you come to be married to the lovely Ruby?”

Michael guffaws. “I bought her from Caspian.” He nods in Dad’s direction. “For more than she’s proven worth,” he adds on a grumble, and I clench my hands together, resisting the urge to drag him outside for that insult.

I might not always see eye-to-eye with my sister, and she might be a pain in my ass. But she’s still my sister. “Careful, Michael,” I growl.

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