Page 93 of Bought By Santa

I have him halfway onto the table when Carolina joins me, now dressed in a pair of black jeans, a tight black long-sleeved shirt, and knee-high boots. She looks more like someone that’s about to step onto the catwalk than watch while I torture the truth out of a stranger.

“I’m ready,” she announces as she finishes braiding her long hair. Her blue eyes flash with barely contained anger, and I fucking love that she’s no longer cold and distant.

“Whatever for?” I question with a wry smile. “You do know there’s no dress code for torture, right?”

“Yeah, but…” Pausing, she rolls her eyes. “I figured we might have to leave to do… I don’t know. Chase… someone? And I wanted to be prepared.”

I haul the intruder all the way onto the table. “Fair enough,” I agree, which it is. Not only has she passed her test, she’s the onehe tried to attack. If my woman wants to see him burn, or chase him just for fun, I’ll give that to her.

“What can I do to help?” she asks, and when I ask her to go to my study and get some rope, she practically runs out of here.

The man is still out for the count when she returns, and while I ask her to go check on Marco, I tie the man to the dining table. It’s not exactly savory, but I don’t care.

As soon as he’s secure, I join Carolina who’s pulling Marco into a sitting position. He stirs, and before even opening his eyes, his hand shoots out toward her. “Marco!” I growl, batting the limb away.

“Hey big guy,” she coos—fucking coos—ignoring my attempt at shielding her behind me. “It’s just me. Well, us. Me and Nick.” She continues to ramble on, but it seems to help.

Marco groans and lowers his hand. His eyes slowly open, and I see the exact moment he registers it’s just us. “Where is he?” he growls. “The fucking coward attacked me from behind.” He rubs at the back of his head.

Carolina hisses, “He attacked you from behind?” sounding incredibly offended on Marco’s behalf.

While she gets up and pours some water for Marco, I catch him up on what happened; how I was getting a drink, and then that the intruder went straight for Carolina. “I don’t get how the hell he got in,” I finish.

Marco shakes his head. “The alarm never went off, and he didn’t use the elevator.”

Shaking my head, I replay the intruder’s words over and over in my head. Yeah, even if it wasn’t my dad, it was an insider. It’s one thing to scale the fucking outside walls and climb the building unseen, it’s an entirely different matter to know where the bedrooms in my home are.

“He said my dad’s behind it,” I growl, tasting the words and damnit if it doesn’t sound right.

“Why?” Marco questions, taking the water from her outstretched hand. “Why would he leave you in charge just to—”

We’re interrupted as the intruder groans, and as one, all three of us turn to watch his eyes flutter open. Next, is my favorite part; watching his confusion turn into fear as he realizes he’s bound tightly.

I get up first, pulling Carolina with me, taking her hand as we step closer to the table. Marco follows quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. He wobbles slightly, but it’s not enough to negate the grim expression on his face.

“Only a coward attacks someone from behind,” he growls menacingly.

I lean in closer, my voice low and dangerous. “You’re going to tell me everything, aren’t you?”

“P-please,” the man cries. “I’ve already told you who sent me. W-what more do you want to know?”

Letting go of Carolina, I reach under the table, gripping one of the knives hidden on the underside of the surface. “I just told you,” I sigh, showing him the knife in my hand. “I want to know everything.”

The man’s breath quickens, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. But there’s none.

“It’s only a matter of how much pain you want to endure before you talk,” I say, my tone casual, as if we’re discussing the weather. I press the knife against his cheek, just enough to draw a thin line of blood. He flinches, a whimper escaping his lips.

“Please… I’ll talk,” he gasps, his voice trembling. “It was Caspian… he gave the orders.”

“That’s old news,” my hellcat hisses, taking a step closer. “How did you get in?”

“He… he told me how,” the intruder stammers, his eyes wide with fear. “He knew the layout, the security details. Everything.”

My grip on the knife tightens, rage boiling beneath the surface. Dad betrayed me. I should have known. I should have seen it coming. But instead, he’s been plotting against me, pulling strings behind the scenes. And this man, this pathetic excuse for a killer, thought he could waltz into my home and take what’s mine.

Pressing the knife deeper into his face, I elicit a pained cry from him. “Why?” I demand, my voice a low growl. “Why would he do this?”

“I don’t know,” the intruder sobs. “He just… he just said it had to be done. He didn’t give us a reason. I swear.”

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