Page 54 of Bought By Santa

“Where’s your sister staying?” he asks kindly, and when she tells him where, he smiles widely. “I’m familiar with Ability Acres. I can easily drop by and assess both your sister and her file if you want? It would be no trouble at all.”

Carolina perks up at that, and she thanks him over and over, well, alternating between gratitude and questions. She’s determined to get the best care for Willow, so when Dr. Hargrove mentions a private facility he’s on the board for, she’s all ears until she hears the monthly price.

“Make it happen,” I order, shaking my head as she tries to argue with me about the price.

“It’s too expensive,” she insists, digging her nails into my hand that she’s still holding, like that’s going to deter me.

“If I may,” Dr. Hargrove cuts in. “We do have some openings for people who can’t pay—”

“No!” both Carolina and I interrupt simultaneously.

Turning to my hellcat, I use my free hand to peel her claws out of my flesh. “Hey, listen to me,” I insist. “You could probably getone of those spots for people in need. But why take that from someone who really needs it when I can easily pay for it?”

Carolina huffs theatrically. “ButIcan’t pay for it. She’s my sister, so I should be able to.”

“Sure you can,” I grin. “You’re my fiancée after all.”

The shocked expression she makes is all I need to confirm that she didn’t think I was serious when I asked her if she wanted the ring while she was getting ready for the party. Taking her left hand, I press down on the ring I gave her.

“I asked you if you accepted the ring, and you said yes,” I remind her.

“W-what?” she sputters. “But this… it’s just a ring. You didn’t ask me to marry you.”

Shrugging, I lean down and whisper in her ear. “I don’t have to ask when you’re already mine.”

Despite rolling her eyes, she smiles, and it’s not one of those fake ones she plasters on for other people. This smile reaches her eyes. “Fine,” she says, trying to sound haughty. Then she looks at Dr. Hargrove again. “I guess I can afford the facility after all. How do I—”

“Marvelous,” the older man laughs. “If you want, you and Willow can come by my office tomorrow. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good,” I say, cementing the deal with a handshake.

Carolina is less reserved, and she throws her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you,” she sobs so softly I’m barely able to hear it. “Thank you so much.”

Since Dr. Hargrove is an old—emphasis onold—family friend, and has been nothing but loyal, cordial, and respectful toward me, I let it slide when he returns the hug. But only for about twenty seconds, which I think is extremely lenient of me.

Chapter 19

The Santa

Igrip Carolina’s hand tighter as we slide into the back of Marco’s SUV, the night air crisp and biting against my skin. The city is a blur of Christmas lights and shadow, but my mind is darker than these streets, running through the events of the evening with lethal precision.

“Everything is handled, boss,” Marco mutters from the driver’s seat, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. Hisvoice is low, laced with the promise of violence already carried out.

“Good,” I respond curtly, my thumb stroking over Carolina’s knuckles. She doesn’t need to know the details—just that she’s safe. That no one touches what’s mine and lives without consequence.

“So I guess I should congratulate you two,” he chuckles. “I hear you’re now engaged.”

I wait for Carolina to deny it, but to my surprise, she doesn’t. “Thank you,” she says, straightening her spine.

The rest of the car ride is silent except for the steady hum of the engine and Carolina’s soft breathing. Her head rests on my shoulder, and I can feel the trust she places in me weighing heavier than any crown. She’s mine to protect, to cherish, to breed. And her dedication tonight has only solidified my possessive need for her.

Once home, I dismiss Marco with a nod, knowing he understands the silence that hangs between us. He knows the unspoken directive—no loose ends.

I follow Carolina into our bathroom, watching her as she starts to remove her makeup and brush her teeth. Then I help her get the dress off, and because she asks nicely, I don’t tear it from her body.

“So tired,” she yawns, staring longingly at the shower. “But I feel like I need to clean up first.”

“Absolutely not,” I scoff. “We wear each other’s juices with pride, Hellcat. Don’t give up on me now.”

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