Page 65 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
Relief floods his expression, almost painful to witness. His hands shake as he takes my left hand, sliding the ring onto my finger with infinite care.
It fits perfectly, substantial and beautiful and somehow exactly right. The weight of it feels significant, like a chain and a crown all at once.
"Perfect," he murmurs, lifting my hand to press a kiss to my knuckles. "You're perfect."
I'm about to respond when I hear it—the distant sound of an engine fighting its way through the snow. But when I look at Victor, expecting to see confusion or concern, I'm surprised by his expression.
He's completely calm. Almost expectant.
"Victor?" I say carefully, watching his face. "Are you expecting someone?"
A slow smile spreads across his features, and there's something vicious in it that makes my stomach clench. "Actually, yes. I've been expecting this for hours."
"What do you mean?"
"My son is very predictable," he says, rising from the couch with casual grace. "When he sets his mind to something, he becomes quite single-minded about it."
The engine sound grows louder, more determined, and I can hear the struggle of tires fighting for traction in the snow.
"Aaron," I breathe, understanding flooding through me.
"Indeed." Victor's voice carries satisfaction rather than surprise. "Right on schedule."
"You knew he was coming? You knew and you didn't tell me?"
"I wanted to propose first," he says simply, glancing down at the ring glittering on my finger. "I wanted to make sure you were completely mine before he arrived to complicate things."
A car door slams outside with enough force to echo through the morning quiet, and then I hear it—the voice that makes my blood run cold.
"Victor!" Aaron shouts from outside, his voice raw with fury and desperation. "I know you have her! I know what you've done!"
Heavy footsteps pound up the front steps, and then the sound of fists hammering against the door with increasing violence.
"Open this fucking door right now, or I swear to God I'll break it down!"
Chapter nineteen
Victor
The sound of splintering wood echoes through the cabin as my worthless son kicks in the front door. Right on schedule. I've been expecting this moment since Patrick called last night to inform me that Aaron was fighting his way through the storm with the determination of a man possessed.
Perfect timing, really. Kyra's engagement ring catches the Christmas tree lights as she instinctively moves closer to me, and I feel a surge of satisfaction. She's mine now, officially and completely. Whatever pathetic last-ditch effort Aaron is about to make will only serve to cement her loyalty to me.
"Victor!" His voice carries through the cabin, raw with fury and desperation. "I know you have her! I know what you've done!"
I stand slowly, setting down my mimosa. Kyra looks up at me with wide eyes, fear and confusion warring in her expression. She still doesn't fully understand what she's committed herself to, but she's about to learn.
"Stay behind me," I command softly, my voice carrying the authority that's made men twice my size step aside.
Heavy footsteps pound across the hardwood floor, and then he's there—bursting into the living room like a man possessed. My son, my greatest disappointment, looking like he's been driving through hell itself. His clothes are wrinkled, his hair disheveled, snow still clinging to his jacket. But it's his eyes that tell the real story—wild with desperation and the kind of manic energy that comes from a man who has nothing left to lose.
Those eyes take in the scene immediately. The rumpled couch where we were sitting. Kyra in her Christmas morning clothes, looking beautiful and claimed. And most importantly, the massive diamond glittering on her left hand like a declaration of war.
"No," he whispers, staring at the ring like it's a knife in his chest. "No, no, no. Tell me you didn't!"
"Didn't what?" I ask mildly, moving to stand beside Kyra. My hand settles possessively on her shoulder, and I feel her lean into my touch despite her obvious distress. "Didn't propose to the woman I love? Didn't claim what was always meant to be mine?"
"She was mine first!" The words explode from him, spittle flying. "I loved her first!"
