Page 61 of Christmas With The Kings
Isabella stood rooted like a stone statue, refusing eye contact with anyone but us, muttering names like she was reading themoff a hit list.
Another child stepped forward. I toggled the ring again, a little longer this time, and Kinsley’s hand trembled as she passed the box across. She covered it by smoothing her skirt. To anyone else, she was composed. To me? She was trembling at the seams.
And then, of course, Bash noticed.
He sauntered over between groups, still mic’d, still grinning like the devil himself. “You’re flushed, Mrs. Claus,” he said under his breath, loud enough for me to hear but not the children. “Hyde Park too warm for you?”
Kinsley shot him a withering look, but that only made his grin widen. He tipped his head at me. “He’s winding you up, isn’t he?”
Kinsley’s jaw tightened. “Go away, Torturer.”
“Can’t,” he said, glancing at the clipboard. “Not when I’m having this much fun watching you squirm. I think we propose a vote to make it a yearly tradition. What say you, Blade?”
Our eyes met, and I winked before dialing the ring up another notch. Isabella rushed over. “We’ve got a new batch. What’s wrong with you?” she asked, turning her attention to Kinsley, who had her eyes closed, pleasure evident on her face.
“Nothing…” Kinsley whimpered.
“Are you? Dear God in heaven, something is seriously wrong with you all. Get it together,” Isabella hissed as Kinsley nodded frantically. She shot me a glare.
The next line of kids came through. Children darted away while new ones stepped up, eyes wide with awe. With each interaction, motherly instincts kicked in, and my heart expanded inside my chest. Seeing her so patient and warm with the children, easing anxiety in some and being silly with others, had me dreaming about starting a family of our own.
Christ, she was magnificent.
I thumbed the ring, pushing it to a level four this time. Her inhale was sharp, but her smile never faltered as she bent to present a teddy bear to a boy with chocolate on his face.
A frazzled-looking mother with a baby on her hip stood off to the side. Kinsley asked if the boy had been kind to his sister. He nodded so hard his hat slipped over his eyes. She laughed with him, her voice honey-sweet.
Once he was out of earshot, she moaned long and loud, squirming beside me. “Mmm.”
Bash, not one to miss out on teasing, chose this opportunity to embarrass her further. His mic was still hot, his grin too knowing.
“Everyone, let’s give a round of applause to our very own Mrs. Claus. She is positively glowing on this fine day,” he announced, voice carrying over the speakers. “Must be all that holiday spirit. She lives for it. It’s like a jolt of joy isn’t it?”
Kinsley shot us both a murderous glance. I bit back a laugh, masking it with a cough, and kept my posture regal. After all, Santa had a reputation to keep. Her nails dug into my sleeve as I turned the toy up to level five.
“Blade,” she warned.
I turned it down. Relief softened her shoulders, and for a moment, she looked at me with unguarded gratitude. Which only made me want to torment her more. The line shuffled forward, another family stepping up.
I waited until Kinsley bent down to hand out a few candy canes and then I dialed it up to full power for fifteen devastating seconds. Her entire body jolted, and I thought she might actually drop all of them. But somehow, she recovered, pasting on a dazzling smile as she wished the family a happy Christmas.
Her eyes flicked up to mine, blazing with heat and fury all at once. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under. But the way she clung tighter to my arm when the family walked away told me she was hanging on by a thread.
My thread.
And I wasn’t about to let go. She shifted closer, as if to warn me not to escalate. Naturally, I did the opposite. A quick hit of the ring had her lips parting around a silent gasp.
She covered it by pressing a hand against her chest, feigning sentiment as a little girl came closer. Shy, wide-eyed, with braids and bows, she peeked up at me like I was the real thing.
“Well, hello there,” I said, voice warm and booming, as I shifted to open my arms. She scrambled onto my lap with all the clumsy confidence of a child, settling against the white fur trim of my suit like she belonged there. I softened instantly—couldn’t help it. “Oh, well what do we have here? It looks like Isabella the elf, has a gift for you. That means your name was on the nice list.”
Isabella, all efficiency and zero patience, extended the gift toward Kinsley. My little love took it with that radiant Mrs. Claus smile and crouched beside us, her voice gentle as she held the gift out. “A ballerina doll, just for you. She’s even got her slippers on. I used to be a ballerina.”
“You did?” The girl gasped, hugging the doll to her chest like it was made of gold.
And then the child’s mother appeared.
Tall, blonde, wearing a tight sweater and short skirt. Exactly the kind of woman we had joked about earlier at the cottage. Kinsley’s eyes narrowed as the woman studied me.
