Page 5 of Christmas With The Kings
“Of courseyou would go there,” he wheezed. “I meant yourwords, silly girl.Communication. Not your…mint weaponized mouth.”
“Oh,” I said as heat erupted across my cheeks. “Well, if you’ve ever wondered about them—Iwouldrecommend.”
He sobered, still grinning but with more weight behind his eyes now. “Good to know. But honestly, if you want them to acknowledge how important this is, maybe try saying something instead of scattering clues. This isn’t an escape room situation, you know.”
“But I’m working on my subtly here. Marcel says I need the practice,” I batted my eyelashes. “Hence, that is why I’m appealing to you. I fully believe that this one thing will do the trick. If not, maybe then I’ll consider your way.”
“A tree, then?”
“Actually…” I hesitated to complete the thought. Subtly might be on the inner work list, but baby steps. And just as I suspected—he was picking up what I was putting down.
“Are you saying you want more than one tree?”
I nodded as he groaned and ran a hand down his face. “How many?”
My nerves kicked in. Would he limit me? God, I hoped not. However, with him being the one doing the heavy lifting or, well, axe wielding, he had every right.
“Young lady?”
“Three?” I whispered and hesitantly met his eyes.
His jaw clenched. “Three.”
“It’s a big house!”
“Threelivetrees?”
“Yes, full-sized. Ideally symmetrical. And very, very green.”
“You’re going to pick them yourself?”
“No, I have help.”
“Mine?”
I offered him the world’s most radiant smile. “You and Isabella.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something in Italian, knowing that I didn’t speak it.
“What was that?”
“I said, I should have retired when I had the chance.”
I froze. “Wait—what? No,” I said, too loud, too fast. My cocoa sloshed dangerously close to the brim. “No, you can’t leave this family. Not ever.”
My voice cracked on the wordever, and I hated how fast the fear rose up in me. It was always waiting for me—under the surface, looking for an excuse to spill out. I stepped back, stamping my foot.
“I mean it, mister.”
He blinked, caught off guard.
“I’m serious,” I rushed on. “You think you’re just the guy with the car keys, and the dry commentary, but you’re not. You’re—” My throat tightened. “You’reone of us. You’re part of my safe.”
The room fell still for a second too long. Then, Marcus exhaled, his expression softening. The tension in his jaw eased. He stepped forward and reached up to fix the bow in my hair where it had gone crooked.
“Kinsley,” he said, low and steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I blinked fast.
