Page 64 of Bought By Santa

“Me too,” I breathe out, still reeling from the depth of our connection.

Later, alone in the bathroom, I hold my breath as I wait for the result of the pregnancy test. The familiar single line appears, and my heart sinks. Negative, again.

“Damn it,” I curse under my breath, fighting back tears.

Frustration and determination mingle within me. This isn’t the end. I will bear Nicklas Knight’s child, no matter what it takes. I glance at my reflection in the mirror—a woman transformed by a love as dark as coal, and a burning purpose.

If the Christmas deadline is non-negotiable, I’m running out of time. So far, I’ve been too scared to ask in case the answer is ‘yes’. Eight days left, is that even enough time? Wouldn’t the test already show I’m pregnant if… I shouldn’t be thinking like this.

“Next time,” I promise myself. “Next time, it’ll be positive.”

As I exit the bathroom, I find Nicklas sitting on the bed. He’s redressed in a clean suit, looking like he’s about to… “Are you going out?” I ask, incredulity lilting my words.

“No, I’m not going anywhere. But there’s some business I have to take care of. People will be coming over.”

I put some extra sway in my step, deliberately trying to entice him. “Does that mean I have to go asleep alone?” I pout.

The time we’ve spent together is so short, yet I find that I’ve become addicted to this man. There’s no other word for it. When we’re not together, I miss him. And when we are, I crave him in ways I never knew existed. It’s like his soul is now interwoven with mine in a tapestry that can’t be undone.

“I’m afraid so, Kitten,” he says, sounding like he isn’t any happier about it than I am. “It shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.”

“Fine,” I sigh, crawling into bed and under the sheets. “Where will you be?” When he looks confused at my question, I clarify. “I mean, what room? I don’t like not knowing where you are.”

The grin splitting his lips is almost boyish, as though it pleases him immensely to hear. “We’ll be in the meeting room. The one next to—”

“I know where it is.”

After kissing me goodnight, promising to not be more than two hours, he leaves me.

Chapter 22

The Santa

Leaving Carolina naked in bed is harder than it should be. Normally, I revel in business, love the power that comes from ruling. Since my hellcat entered my life, I don’t have the same thirst for it.

No matter how I feel I can’t keep leaving it to others. I can’t afford for anyone to realize how absent I’ve been, especially not with what Sergei found. So no matter how much I want to stay in bed with Carolina, business calls.

She’s my addiction, making the blood rush in my veins just thinking about how she feels under my touch. I’ve never been one for obsession, always keeping control, but she makes me want to lose it.

Marco catches up with me as I make my way into the room we usually reserve for meetings like the one tonight. “Boss,” he says, dipping his head.

“Is everything ready?” I ask, already knowing it is.

He nods and opens the door for me, flicking on the light. “It is. Some of the guests have already arrived. Is it okay to let them in now?”

I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the New York skyline that stretches in front of me. A testament to the empire I rule over, to the power I wield. “Get the rat first,” I reply through clenched teeth.

Tonight’s meeting is impromptu, and I don’t like when things change like this. This is my domain, and I don’t suffer fools or disrespect. The Russian we found sniffing around where he doesn’t belong fits both categories, and tonight he’ll pay the price.

Marco returns with the bound and gagged man. He is bleeding onto my rug from the multiple lacerations on his torso and face. One eye is completely swollen closed, his nose is broken, and when he opens his mouth to groan in pain, I notice several teeth are missing. One leg is broken so badly the bone is sticking out, and the opposite shoulder has clearly been pulled from its socket.

“Did you have fun?” I observe dryly, raising an eyebrow at Marco who just shrugs and grins.

“He told me there was nothing I could do to make him talk,” he states. “And you know how much I like proving people wrong.”

Yeah, that would totally do it. Marco takes things like that as a challenge, one he will never back down from.

I watch as he throws the man into the corner, chaining him to the radiator. Not that it’s needed, I don’t think he’ll ever walk again. I mean, he’ll never leave alive, sure. But even if I let him go, he’d have to drag himself out of here, or slither like the snake he is. I snort at how fitting that is.

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