Bought By Santa (Seasonal Obsessions #1)

Chapter 5

The Santa

T he chill of the December night doesn’t bother me. Not when there’s work to be done. I adjust the faux beard, a ridiculous accessory but necessary. Jack stands beside me, his own Santa accessories equally ludicrous on his towering frame, both of us hidden in plain sight. We’re not wearing this shit to spread holiday cheer, but to make sure no one sees our faces.

Jack chuckles, a low rumble in his throat. “Should’ve brought some elves for the full effect.”

I scoff, focusing on the task at hand. The thief thought he could steal from the Knight family and live to tell the tale. He was wrong.

This is the last accomplice to the rat we killed in the warehouse earlier tonight, and he is about to learn the same lesson. The pathetic, backstabbing fucker is shaking like a leaf. He pleads, sobs, but his fate is sealed. My gut clenches with a dark satisfaction. Fear is a tool, and I wield it expertly.

“Please… I didn’t know who the money belonged to. You have to believe me,” he whimpers.

“An excuse as thin as the ice you’re skating on,” I retort, my voice cold enough to freeze hell over. I can almost taste his dread. It fuels me.

“Let’s wrap it up. I’ve got places to be,” Jack says, impatience seeping through his usually laid-back tone.

“Patience, brother.” I step closer to the sniveling man, reveling in the power I hold over life and death. “Let’s ensure he understands the consequences of crossing us.”

“Understood, understood! Please…” His words dissolve into another round of useless begging.

“Silence!” My command echoes off the brick walls encasing us. The man’s mouth snaps shut, his body quivering. “Your cooperation now is meaningless. You’ve already chosen your side.”

“God, please—”

“God can’t help you here,” I laugh.

The alleyway reeks of fear, a stench that’s almost sweet to my senses. “Please,” he tries again, looking up at me with eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Pathetic.

“Please?” I echo, my tone dripping with mock sympathy. Turning to my brother, I ask, “Do you think he deserves mercy?”

Jack chuckles, the sound deep and menacing. “After making us waste time having to track him down? I don’t fucking think so.”

Something about Jack’s words sparks something in my mind. This hasn’t been a waste of time. Hell, it hasn’t even been drawn out. I absentmindedly scratch my cheek under the beard.

“What’s up?” Jack asks, almost like he can sense my brain working hard to piece shit together.

The thing is, I’m not sure there’s anything off. Right now, it’s only a feeling… fuck, barely. It’s half a feeling if anything. It just seems too… easy.

First the thief led us to one accomplice, and he neatly led us to the next one. Neither of the men we’ve hunted down needed much prompting, and the person they gave up was exactly where described. Fuck, not just that. They were… alone and defenseless.

Surely, it can’t be this easy.

Shaking my head, I refocus on the man in front of me. “Any last words, then?” I ask, the cold metal of my gun pressing against the guy’s temple. He sputters, begging, but it’s all white noise. “Last chance to stand up and die like a man instead of on your knees like the filth you are.” My words are cruel, but I don’t have any sympathy for disloyal bottom feeders. Especially not those who run and kneel, too weak to face the consequences of their actions like a man.

A single gunshot shatters the silence. His body slumps, lifeless.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jack gripes. “Couldn’t you have shot him anywhere but the head? Cleanup won’t be happy about the mess.” My brother’s upper lip curls in distaste as he eyes the blood, fractured skull, and brain matter.

“Let them—”

I’m interrupted by a scream; a sharp, piercing guttural sound that cuts through the aftermath. My head snaps in its direction.

“Shit, who—” Jack starts, already moving toward the source.

Whipping around, I spot her—a woman, her eyes wide with terror. She’s beautiful, even in fear. Blonde hair tumbling in disarray, curves hugged by her thin dress despite the December’s chill. Hmm, she must have been in one of the clubs nearby. Her chest heaves with rapid breaths, her blue eyes wide and fixed on the fresh corpse.

“Mine,” I growl, claiming the right to handle the unexpected complication myself. Without taking my eyes off her, I advance, each step measured, predatory. Her terror is palpable, and something within me stirs, a primal urge I haven’t felt in years.

“Who are you?” she demands, trying to mask her fear with bravado.

I let out a dark chuckle. “Wrong question, Kitten,” I reply, stepping closer, watching as she instinctively retreats. “You should be asking what I’m going to do with you now.”

“Please, I won’t say anything, I swear!” she cries out as I close the distance between us.

“I know you won’t,” I smirk.

My hand snaps out, fast as a whip, encircling her delicate throat. She gasps and drops her clutch as my grip tightens just enough to show her I’m in control, that her air depends on my whim. Her pulse beats wildly under my fingers, a trapped bird frantic to escape. She flails against me, all nails and spitfire.

A kick lands on my shin, surprisingly strong. It draws a chuckle from deep within me. Impressive. Most crumble in fear; she fights like a hellcat, and damn if it doesn’t turn me on. No, it’s more than that. Her survival instinct is strong, and I’m in fucking awe.

“Feisty, aren’t you?” I muse, enjoying the flare of defiance in her eyes.

“Let me go!”

Her nails scrape against my skin, and I look down to see blood pebble where she’s digging her claws into me. A sinister smile tugs at my lips. Her spirit, though futile, impresses me—it’s been a long time since anyone dared to defy me. Still with my hand around her throat, I push her backwards until her back hits the wall.

I ease my grip on her as her struggle slows, causing confusion to flicker across her features. She’s trying to work out the angle, why I haven’t snuffed her out like her alleyway companion. Good. Let her mind race. Fear mixed with curiosity—it’s a potent cocktail.

“Who are you?” she asks again.

Her eyes widen as I lean so close my breath fans across her face, flexing my hand around her throat. “Your worst nightmare or your sweetest dream,” I reply. “Depends on how you play your cards.”

At my words, she begins to fight again, trying to break free. But nothing she does has any effect on me. “Stop fighting,” I rasp, squeezing harder, her life hanging by a thread, my thread. Her eyes plead, a silent prayer for mercy that only makes me want to tighten my grasp further.

“Kill her and let’s move on,” Jack urges, but I’m not done with her yet.

“Quiet,” I snap, my decision made in the blink of an eye. She’s more than just a witness now. My heart races with possibilities as her consciousness fades, her body going limp in my arms.

“Please,” she rasps, tears brimming, ready to fall. “I—I have a sister…”

I almost laugh. A sister. An anchor to this world. Leverage. “You really shouldn’t have told me that,” I grin. My thumb presses harder against her windpipe, not to end her life, but to make her unconscious.

Her chest heaves for air that won’t come, and her eyes are losing their fire, flickering with the realization that her life rests in my hands. I can see the moment she understands—she’s mine now. Her body slumps, giving in to the darkness clawing at the edges of her vision.

“Fuck, Nick, what are you doing?” Jack’s voice is a distant echo.

“Trust me,” is all I offer as I watch the last bit of consciousness slip from her face. I’m not usually one for gambling. But this woman, she’s a bet I’m willing to make.

“Better have a damn good reason for this,” Jack grumbles behind me.

“Let’s move,” I command, grabbing the purse she dropped before I scoop her up. Her head lolls against my arm. She’s soft where I am hard, light where I am darkness.

This is no ordinary woman. She’s a fighter, a survivor; the very answer to a prayer I never even made. We stride back to the car, the night air cold against my skin. Her warmth seeps into me. I place her gently on the backseat, tugging her purse under her arm.

“Got the cleanup crew on the line,” Jack mutters, phone to his ear.

“Good.” My response is terse, my focus on the unconscious woman behind me. Her blonde hair fans out across the seat, a halo of innocence in a world that’s anything but. “Make sure they get everything.”

Jack climbs into the car, and as soon as the door is shut and we’re moving, he turns to me. “Who is she, Nick?” Jack asks, eyeing the woman with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“The future,” I reply, my mind already racing through plans and possibilities.

The drive to Jack’s place is tense, his confusion clear as day. He wants answers, but I’m not ready to share my thoughts. Not until I know exactly how this intriguing stranger fits into my world—the world where I reign supreme, where everyone bends to my will. Except for her. Not yet.

“Care to explain now?” Jack probes once more as he exits the car at his house.

“Later,” I reply curtly, my mind already racing ahead.

Driving back to my home, I spend more time checking on her in the rearview mirror than looking at the damn road ahead of me. Luckily, she remains unconscious, not even stirring when I carry her through the front door. Without hesitating, I bring her to my bedroom, laying her down on my bed.

I stand over her, this woman who has potential to be both a pawn and a prize in my twisted game. My eyes trace the soft rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps, oblivious to the storm about to break over her head. The vulnerability in her relaxed features belies the spitfire I’ve glimpsed—a flame I’m eager to stoke.

Minutes tick by as I stand there watching her. Watching the rise and fall of her tits with each breath, her shapely legs where the dress has ridden up. She’s lost one of her shoes somewhere, and one of the straps on her dress is torn.

I lick my lips, my breathing turning ragged as I sit down next to her. I place my hand on her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. My dick stirs as I trace my fingers across her breast, finding her nipple easily enough.

Hmm, I need to see her without her clothes on. I never go into business without knowing all the facts, and tonight won’t be any different. I do my best not to disturb her as I slide the strap off her shoulder, moving so I can pull the dress down her body, revealing her sexy, black lingerie.

Her curves flow seamlessly from her full, rounded breasts to her slender waist, and back out to her hips. Childbearing hips. I grin at the thought. I suppress a groan as I notice one nipple peeking out through the cup in her strapless bra. Little minx was dressed to impress, and, yeah, I’m fucking impressed.

Needing to see all of her, I roll her to the side and unclasp her bra. No longer caring about disturbing her, I roughly pull the bra off her. Her lush tits fall free. “Damn,” I growl, my cock throbbing in my suit pants.

I can’t resist palming, kneading the heavy flesh. If—no, when —I have my way, these will look so good swelling with milk. Her breathing intensifies, sounding haggard, and it’s making me smirk. Does she know I’m touching her? Judging by her beaded nipples, she likes my touch.

Standing, I push her back onto her back and hook my thumbs into the delicate lace of her thong. I slide the scrap of fabric down her legs, cupping her calves so I can push her legs apart. As the apex of her thighs is no longer hidden, I see she’s completely bare. Her pink folds beckon to me, and I run a finger through them. Fuck, she’s wet.

“I wonder how you taste,” I muse out loud, my voice husky with want.

Sinking down to the floor, I pull her to the edge so I can sample her. My mouth waters as I pull the faux beard down before darting my tongue out, teasing her clit. Then I continue downwards until I find her wet entrance. Her taste hits me like a freight train of the best kind. I can’t resist lapping at her hole, licking up her arousal while I use my free hand to rub myself through my suit pants.

Just as I’m about to come, I stop. Not because my morals tell me to, fuck that. I’m not a good guy. I stop because I still have more research to do. Now that I know her body is up to snuff, I can move ahead to the next phase.

I get up from the floor and pull her further up the bed so her head is resting on my pillow. Then I go to get one of my button- up shirts and put it on her. It’s a shame it hides her delicious body, but I’ll see her naked again soon enough.

As I pick up her discarded clothes from the floor, I notice the tag is still on her dress and underwear. Interesting.

Pulling my phone out, I call Marco, the head of my security. After we took care of the thief and most of his associates, I ordered my team back here, knowing Jack and I could easily take care of the last one. Just as I’m about to get annoyed Marco isn’t picking up, there’s a knock on my bedroom door. I turn around to find him standing there.

“Sir?” he questions. His lips twist into a wry smile as he eyes the purse in my hand. “Black suits you. Maybe I can borrow that on my next night out.”

Chuckling, I point at the sleeping woman. “Keep watch,” I command. His answering nod is stiff, military. “No one touches her. And I need you to get me the moment she wakes up.”

To his credit, Marco doesn’t ask any questions. “Understood boss.” His voice is a low rumble.

Her blonde hair fans out on the pillow, making her look like an angel, but I know better. Angels don’t survive in my world—they get devoured. And yet, I find myself wanting to use, maybe even protect, this one.

“If anything happens to her, you answer to me.” My tone leaves no room for doubt.

“Of course.”

Without a word, I clasp his arm before leaving my bedroom, trusting Marco to keep the woman contained and safe while I do some background checks.

Alone in my office, I empty her purse—or clutch; I think that’s what Ruby calls these things—onto my desk. Various items fall out; her phone, some makeup, a compact mirror, and three fucking condoms. I pick the foil wrapper up, studying it in the light. At first I don’t see anything, but as I look closer, I notice small holes. A grin spreads across my face as I confirm all three condoms are damaged.

When no ID falls out, I look inside. There’s a small zipper in the lining, and as I unzip it, I see her driver’s license tucked away in there. Carolina Sterling. The name rolls off my tongue as I say it out loud.

Using the software we use to run background checks on everyone we come into contact with, I rapidly type Carolina’s name in the search bar. Information flows across the screen. She’s twenty-six years old and lives alone. Her financials are a disaster, last-ditch efforts written between the lines.

Hmm, considering that her Cam Girl site, one owned by my family, seems to be a big hit, that makes no sense. I allow myself to get distracted long enough to see everything she’s doing online. It seems she’s not only uploading pre-recorded videos of herself in the shower and getting dressed, but she’s also taking custom requests. None of the content is overly sexual, more teasing.

Entering the website with my owner credentials, I look through all the info that isn’t available to the public. Carolina’s contact information, previous auctions she’s done for her used underwear and even a date. The money she’s earned from this isn’t insignificant, so why the hell is she living in one of the worst neighborhoods?

As I dig deeper, I find the reason for her lack of money. She has a monthly expense to a home for the disabled, and it seems her sister, Willow Sterling, twenty years old, lives there. I scoff in distaste. What kind of person doesn’t even personally care for their family?

Then again, a woman who keeps her tags on her clothes and pokes holes in condoms doesn’t have much of a conscience. Something doesn’t sit right with me about that. When Carolina mentioned her sister, she sounded desperate, and not just to save her life. There was more to it, like she was fighting for her sister rather than using her as a bid to gain her freedom.

I lean back, considering the woman unconscious in my bed. She’s desperate, willing to do anything for her sister. That’s something I can use.

Continuing my search, I find that Carolina’s dad, Shaun Sterling, died in the same hit-and-run that left Willow disabled. Their mom, Luna, died not too long ago from an overdose, it looks like Carolina and Willow are each other’s everything, which is perfect.

Carolina’s got fire, I saw it in her fight. It amuses me, impresses me. And those curves, that blonde hair—it’s all a bonus. I need an heir, desperately, and she’s looking for financial security.

Two birds, one stone. There’s a tightness in my chest that wasn’t there before, an anticipation of what’s coming.

My lips curl into a half-smile at the thought. I know she’ll put up one hell of a fight. I can already imagine the fire in those blue eyes when she wakes up here, in my home. The way she’ll arch under my touch, defiant even as she succumbs to the inevitable.

I’m Nicklas Knight. I get what I want, and I want this hellcat to carry my heir.