Page 61 of Bought By Santa

“I know what it says,” he growls. “I’ve read that damn thing end to end a thousand times. I know what happened to her. But that’s her story and not yours.”

Nodding, I do my best to process his words. “So none of it—”

Again, he interrupts me. “You’re misunderstanding me, Kitten. Most of the things that happened to her after being bought by Dad will also happen to you. But I can guarantee you that one of them won’t be me sharing you. Not with my dad, not with any-fucking-one.” He adds pressure to my throat, making it so I can barely breathe. “Nod if you understand.”

I eagerly nod, and as he slams his lips against mine, I pour all my fears, my insecurities, and everything in between into the kiss. I nip at his lips, breaking the bottom one. But I don’t care, not even when he does the same to me and our blood mingles in both our mouths.

While we kiss, I claw at his clothes, eager to get them off. Not just because I’m so incredibly turned on and wet, but mostly because I want to feel him—need it, need him.

Nick’s the one to break the kiss. We’re both panting like we’ve run a marathon when he rests his forehead against mine, squeezing his eyes closed. “You know what I am,” he rasps.

The air in Nicklas’ office is thick with tension, a living entity that wraps around me like a vise. I stand before him, my heart thundering, demanding the truth about the blood that stains his hands and the dark empire he commands.

“Tell me everything,” I say, my voice steady despite the tremor of nerves beneath my skin.

With a heavy sigh, he carries me over to the desk and sits me down on it. Then he sits back in his chair, the movement predatory, deliberate. His dark eyes lock on mine, revealing nothing and everything all at once.

“You want to know about the Knight family?” His question isn’t really a question; it’s an opening gambit.

“Yes.” I swallow hard, bracing myself.

He slides the chair closer, and I fight the urge to retreat. This is Nicklas in his element—raw power, barely leashed. “We are the unseen hand that guides the underworld. Our reach extends far beyond what you can imagine, Carolina.”

“Human trafficking,” I say, remembering the scribbled words from Sienna’s diary and the ones Arthur spoke at dinner. “You buy people.” My words hang between us, heavy with implication.

“Once, yes. The world changes, and we adapt. Now, our endeavors are… different. Actually, there’s still one place…” Trailing off, he shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. But our goal has always remained the same—to maintain control, to ensure our dominance.”

“And the killings?” I press on, my pulse racing.

He chuckles. “Are you put off by them or intrigued?” He reaches out, his fingers brushing against my cheek.

I should recoil, but instead, I lean into his touch. A part of me revels in the danger he represents, drawn to the darkness like a moth to flame. It’s a revelation that sends a shiver down my spine—not of fear, but of something far more complicated.

“Not put off. I’m… intrigued,” I admit, licking my lips. “Especially not the ones you’ve done for me. It’s… I think I like it.” If he’s going to be completely honest, it’s only fair I am as well. And as messed up as it is, that’s how it makes me feel.

“Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the Knight legacy; for our future.” His voice drops, a husky whisper that sends heat pooling low in my belly. “For you.”

I look up into his face, seeing the raw honesty there. “And if I asked you to stop? To walk away from it all?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“But what if I did,” I insist. I don’t know what drives me to ask again. Maybe it’s because of the words I read in Sienna’s diary, a hidden need for more reassurance that her story won’t be mine. “What if I asked you to stay home from a business thingy. Would you do it? Stay with me, I mean.”

“I already have,” he replies. “I’ve missed a lot of business to be with you. Ask me if I fucking care.”

“Do you care?”

He lets out a mirthless and gruff laugh. “I should. The Knight family is supposed to come first. But I…”

As he seemingly struggles to find his words, I finish the sentence for him. “But you don’t.”

“I don’t,” he agrees. Then he sighs. “You need to understand that I can never let go completely. It’s not just business. It’s who we are—who I am. I am the Knight family, just as it is me.”

Morality is a pesky thing, and right now, I’m torn between the morality I should feel, and the complete lack of it. I look at the man before me—a man willing to spill blood for power, yet who holds me as if I’m the most precious thing in his world.

“You’re right,” I confess. “I won’t ask you to stop.”

“Does this not scare you?” His question is soft, almost vulnerable.

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