Bought By Santa (Seasonal Obsessions #1)

Chapter 8

The Santa

T he glow of my phone barely cuts through the darkness in the bedroom. I’ve been awake for hours, but enjoyed Carolina’s nearness too much to get out of bed. Her soft breathing is a steady rhythm in the silence. I tap out a text to Dr. Carmichael, one of the Knight family doctors.

Me: Dr. Carmichael, I need you at the penthouse this afternoon.

She’s used to receiving communication from us at all hours, so I’m not surprised when she replies to my message almost immediately.

Doc C: Of course. What’s it regarding?

Me: I need a full health and fertility check on someone.

Doc C: Is mid-afternoon okay?

After confirming that’s fine, I untangle Carolina, who has her leg thrown across mine, and get out of bed. After wearing the Santa beard and hat around her for a couple of days, I almost feel naked without it. I can’t stop smirking as I shower and shave.

The woman agreed to my proposal without ever seeing me. Not that my looks should matter, yet there’s a primal satisfaction to be found in her positive reaction. There was no way to mistake the way her pupils dilated and the flaring of her nostrils. Oh yes, she liked what she saw.

As usual, I dress in one of my custom-tailored suits, and as I pull my belt through the loops on the pants, I wonder what it would be like to use the leather on her round ass. Just because our agreement is about producing my heir, doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves while doing it.

Leaving the bathroom, I head straight for the kitchen, where I run into Marco. “Good morning, sir,” he greets me.

“Marco,” I rumble as a way of greeting. “I have a few errands to run this morning, so I need you to look after Carolina.”

He nods. “Understood.” Clearing his throat, he looks toward my bedroom door. “Is she still asleep?”

“She is,” I confirm. “There’s no need to wake her up. But if she gets up, please make sure she gets breakfast as quick as possible. Let the kitchen staff know.”

If Carolina wakes up, she won’t be alone. There are constantly people in my apartment. Marco and at least one other from my security team, cleaners, and my chefs. At any given time, there are at least five people in here, and that’s not counting the ones in the lobby of the building or outside.

“I’ll make sure to keep an eye on her. Would you like an hourly update?” This is why Marco’s my favorite. He’s always proactive and thorough in his tasks.

Running a hand down my face, I nod. “Yeah.”

He turns back to his coffee, quietly giving me the space he knows I prefer. I pull my phone out and read the most recent text from Jack.

Jack: Dude, what the hell are you up to? Why aren’t you answering?

I roll my eyes and read through the ten texts he’s sent me since I took Carolina home. I decide to answer one of the other ones, one that asks about her.

Me: She’s fine, and yes, she’s still here.

Jack: Why? Are you up to some kind of kinky role-play that requires a captive?

Me: If I am, that’s none of your business. But I’m actually about to head to her place to pick up some things. Wanna meet me there?

When he asks for the address, I send it to him, arranging for us to meet there within the hour. I knew Jack wouldn’t be able to resist joining me. I wish I could say it’s because he’s a loyal brother, which he is, but it’s also because he’s a curious fucker.

Before leaving, I go back to the bedroom to say goodbye to the woman sleeping in my bed. She might be asleep, but that doesn’t mean I’ll leave without telling her so. She’s still deep in slumber, now sprawled across the bed, almost starfishing. The sheet is only covering half of her body, her naked tits on full display.

Even though I didn’t go further than kissing her yesterday, I insisted she sleep naked. She might as well get used to it. Once the doc has given her the all-clear, I want access to her beautiful cunt at all hours of the day.

I lean down, my lips brushing her forehead in a feather-light kiss. It should feel innocent, but nothing about the way I react to her is. My hand moves of its own accord, slipping beneath the sheet that covers her lower half. The warmth of her skin against mine sparks a jolt of desire that shoots straight to my dick.

Guilt? None. Remorse? Doesn’t exist in my world. I’m a man who takes what he wants, and right now, I want her. My fingers trace the curve of her pussy, and she shifts in her sleep, a soft moan escaping her lips, when I slide a finger between her folds and into her wet heat.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. “You’re fucking soaking.” The need to wake her, to take her here and now, is overwhelming. But I resist. There’s a plan—a purpose to all of this, and I won’t be derailed, not even by my own primal urges.

I withdraw my hand reluctantly, the mix of her heat and my cold resolve leaving me both frustrated and focused. I need to get out of here before I lose the fight against myself.

When I lift my hand to my mouth, intending to lick my fingers clean, I notice blood smeared across the digits and the heel of my hand. The scent of copper fills my nostrils, grounding me in the reality of the situation. I need to clean up.

As I wash my hands in the bathroom, watching the blood swirl down the drain, I wonder if I should wake her up so she can clean up. Ah, fuck. I have nothing for her here. No tampons, no… nothing. Well, that settles it. I’ll let her sleep and pick up whatever she needs before I return.

With one last glance at her peaceful form, I leave the penthouse, the echo of the door clicking shut, a finality that resonates deep in my bones. I make my way to the underground garage, where I pick my armored SUV. The neighborhood Carolina lives in— lived in—isn’t a good one, so I might as well take precautions.

During the drive, I text Ruby, asking her for advice on what to buy for Carolina. I know my sister will probably want to know more details, but all she needs to know is that I need period products. She can do what she wants with that information.

Since it’s still early, I know it’ll be at least an hour before she’s awake enough to answer, which means I hopefully only have to deal with one sibling at a time.

Speaking of siblings, Jack’s already there and waiting as I pull up to the rundown building Carolina’s studio is in. A Cheshire grin splays across his lips as I exit my vehicle. “Morning, bro,” he greets. “I have to say, this is one of the lousiest places you’ve ever taken me.”

I return his smile with a forced scowl. “Shut up,” I grumble.

The street reeks of piss and other bodily fluids, making me scrunch up my nose in disgust. It’s one thing to endure the stench when torturing someone, but when it’s so potent outside, it’s fucking bad. We quietly walk into the building together. According to the info I found, Carolina’s studio is in the back on the ground floor.

“Got a key?” Jack asks when we stand outside her door.

Instead of answering him, I kick the door in. There’s no point in being delicate, because this shithole needs to be leveled to the ground. A place like this isn’t for living, it’s for existing. “Don’t need one,” I smirk.

If I thought the stench outside was bad, this is worse. The small studio is coated in a scent of decay, desperation.

“Jesus, Nick,” Jack mutters from behind me, his voice laced with disbelief. “You weren’t kidding about the shithole.”

I barely hear him. My eyes scan the room, taking in the peeling wallpaper, the single naked bulb that casts a sickly yellow glow over everything it touches. The small couch in the middle of the room is barely held together by the stained fabric, and the springs are exposed. Clothes are neatly folded in a corner, a mix of cheap fabrics and faded colors.

“Christ,” I mutter. “Nothing of this is worth fucking saving.” Even as I say it, I know I have to at least make an effort to look around.

Although Jack nods his agreement, he begins to move items, stuffing whatever clothes that seem worth saving into a duffel bag he found in the corner. My gaze falls on a small photo frame, the glass cracked. It’s Carolina and a girl, younger, smiling. Willow. I clench my fist, feeling an unexpected pang.

My hellcat is doing all she can for her sister, even living in this dump. Clearly, I judged her too harsh when I learned the sisters aren’t living together.

The more I look around, the more I hate knowing she lived here. Mold spreads across the small windowpane and ceiling, which should be enough to make it unlivable. Despite the state of the place, it’s clean. Knowing that the mother of my heir has spent time trying to keep this place in good shape angers me. She deserves more.

“I think we’re done.” Jack’s voice breaks my reverie.

Looking around, I grab a few folders and the crumbled picture from the shattered frame. “Yeah, I think so too,” I agree. “Let’s get out of here.”

We leave the studio, the door hanging ajar. I turn back, pulling out the lighter I always carry out of habit. The flame flickers to life, casting dancing shadows over my tattooed hand.

“Whoa!” Jack exclaims, holding up his hands. “I get you want to burn this dump to the ground, but people live here.”

I nod slowly, he’s right. Neither of us have any problem killing those who deserve it, but the innocent people living in this building haven’t earned my wrath. With a sigh, I run a hand down my face and pull out my phone.

Marco answers on the first call. “Boss?” he inquires.

“How’s she doing?” I ask. As promised, he’s sent me hourly updates, and both confirmed she was still in bed. I listen intently as he lets me know she’s still asleep. “Good, keep it that way. Look, I’m at her studio now and the place needs to go. Burn it to the fucking ground.”

“Sure thing,” he agrees, as usual, not asking any questions.

“But make sure everyone is evacuated first,” Jack adds. “Anyone with kids can be placed in one of our hotels until you find more permanent solutions.”

I shoot my brother an incredulous look. What the hell is this? Some Hallmark Christmas miracle? Fuck no. Jack arches his eyebrow, silently daring me to contradict him. “Fine. Do it,” I huff.

Without looking back, we walk out to our vehicles, and I quickly throw the bag with Carolina’s few belongings onto the passenger seat. When I close the door, I find Jack studying the street. “You know,” he says, pointing to a building further down. “We could get rid of all of it and build some new shit.”

“To what end?” I ask, genuinely curious. “We’re not exactly do-gooders. Besides, the people here aren’t likely to be able to pay the kind of rent we charge.”

Jack scratches the scruff on his chin. “Ruby wants us to do more charity to improve our image. Lately, there hasn’t been enough to offset the negative whispers. If we keep it up, the police can’t keep looking the other way no matter how much we pay them.”

“I get it,” I say. “If we restore the neighborhood, we could run it at a loss to help out.”

“I’ll talk to Ruby,” Jack confirms. “She’d love to get involved.”

He isn’t kidding; this is exactly the kind of thing our sister would get a kick out of. And, honestly, if it gets her away from her creep of a husband for a few hours a day, it’s worth it. “You do that,” I agree.

Turning to face me, Jack pins me with his stare. “You know Dad wasn’t kidding, right? He wants you to produce an heir like last year.”

“I know,” I confirm. “I got it handled.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “So that’s why you’re wearing shining armor?” Jack’s eyes glint with mischief as he leans against my sleek black vehicle, arms folded across his chest.

I glance at him, feeling a surge of possessiveness that’s too intense for the short time I’ve known Carolina. “I am a Knight, after all,” I confirm. “She’s going to give me an heir.”

None of us mention the fact I should make sure I get three, mostly because I don’t believe in the family superstition. The fact that my dad lost his two brothers, that my grandpa lost his two sisters, and that my great-grandpa lost one of each proves nothing.

There’s no such thing as a curse that kills off two of the three children fathered by the Knight Leader. There. Just. Isn’t.

Jack chuckles, shaking his head. “Does she even know about this plan of yours?” Jack arches an eyebrow, the sunlight reflecting in his green eyes.

“She does. I made her an offer too good to refuse.” My hand clenches at my side, the image of her asleep in my bed flashing through my mind. Possession coils tight within me.

He lets out a low whistle and stands up straight. “Damn, you’re serious, aren’t you?” He claps me on the shoulder, his laughter fading. “I hope it works out because I don’t want to have to take over.” His voice becomes solemn, and I know he hates the thought as much as our dad does.

“Don’t worry,” I assure him, pulling him into a hug. “This won’t be your burden. I promise, Jack.”

We say our goodbyes, and I wait in my car, watching him drive away before I check my phone to see if Ruby has answered my text. She has.

Ruby: Are we just going to gloss over the fact you don’t need to know for yourself?

Ruby: Hello?!?!?! Don’t fucking ignore me!

Ruby: Fine, be that way. If it’s someone you actually give a damn about, just buy every product in the shop since you can afford it. Everyone needs a different absorbency.

Ruby: You should also get some chocolate, comfy socks. Maybe a heating pad? Dude, you’re seriously making me go through my own stuff here.

Ruby: Right, okay, even though you’re clearly ignoring me, I’m the best little sister, so here’s your shopping list: every size tampon—branded. No cheap shit. Get the pads with the highest absorbency (indicated by drops on the packaging!!), at least one blanket, some fluffy socks, fluffy pajamas (nothing tight or sexy!), and… whatever you think will make her comfortable.

I roll my eyes as I read the last of my sister’s texts. Just what the actual fuck? This all sounds like shit you’d buy for someone who’s terminal, not someone who has to go through this shit once a month.

My annoyance doesn’t last long, though. It’s nice to see my sister’s personality peek through the words. So much better than the timid version I see when Dad or Michael are around.

Me: Sorry, was with Jack. Thanks for the list. You’re right, you’re the best little sister!

Ruby: Who’s it for?

Me: I’m going through a tunnel and can’t answer.

I chuckle out loud as her immediate reply comes in.

Ruby: Whatever. I’ll grill Jack for info!

I chuckle to myself, having no doubt Jack will spill everything. Ruby is persistent, and it’s usually easier to give her what she wants than fight her.

Me: Are you busy today?

Ruby: God no. Do you need anything? Please say you do. You know I can’t go anywhere without you or Michael saying so.

My heart contracts at the reminder of the life she’s living. Life… I snort to myself. That isn’t fucking living, it’s surviving.

Since what I need is too hard to explain in a text, I send my sister a voice message, asking her to contact Ability Acres, the care home Willow Sterling is staying in. I’d go there myself, but I want to get back to Carolina. Besides, Ruby is much better at this stuff. She’s used to dealing with businesses, and can undoubtedly charm her way inside if she pretends she’s a potential investor.

Ruby: You got it.

Placing my phone in the holder, I tear away from the curb and head toward the nearest shop. Fuck, I don’t even know what kind of shop I should go to. A drug store could help with the actual period products, but I doubt they sell the rest my sister demanded I buy. Since I don’t usually do my own shopping, I’m kind of at a loss for where to go.

I keep driving until I come across one of the big chains. Unbothered by the people shouting at me, I park in the disabled zone and stride into the store. The fluorescent lights of the place are harsh, clinical, but I’m not here for ambiance. I’m here for Carolina.

Tampons first. I scan the aisle, rows upon rows of feminine products, staring back at me like an army ready for battle. Regular, super, overnight, what the hell do these even mean? I grab an assortment of both tampons and pads, not skimping on quantity.

Next, chocolate. Not just any chocolate—I pile up the fanciest looking ones, the ones wrapped in gold foil and promising exotic flavors. Dark, milk, with almonds, sea salt, caramel fillings. If there’s a hint of pleasure to be found in their taste, Carolina will experience it.

I’m not sure why I care so much, and I refuse to examine it. Instead, I keep going. My basket’s getting heavy, but I don’t stop. Heat pads, fluffy socks, a silky robe that looks like it’ll feel like heaven against her skin.

Aromatherapy candles, bath bombs that smell of lavender and jasmine, a plush blanket that begs to be curled up in—at least that’s what the smiling woman on the sign claims. I add a giant teddy bear for good measure, its soft fur under my fingers reminding me of the way Carolina’s hair felt when I brushed it aside.

“Anything else?” the cashier asks, raising an eyebrow as the conveyor belt overflows.

“Is there?” I challenge, daring him to suggest I’ve missed something. But he shakes his head, ringing up the items with a kind of reverence reserved for the absurd.

“Taking care of someone special?” he tries to make small talk.

“Something like that,” I reply curtly, swiping my card without flinching at the total.

After loading the bags into the vehicle, I rush home, eager to see Carolina again. By the time I pull into the garage, I feel a sense of urgency.

Huh, that’s not usually how I react. Then again, how would I know? Carolina is the first woman that isn’t family to set foot in my home. Sure, I’ve had an abundance of one-night-stands in my life, but I’ve either fucked them at their place, or one of the Knight owned hotels.

Elevator doors open, and I step into the penthouse, the bags crinkling in my arms. It’s a bizarre sight, me laden with comforts instead of weapons or threats. Luckily, Marco doesn’t comment on it as he greets me, instead he tries to take some of the bags. But I shake my head and head straight for the bedroom.

“Wait,” he calls after me. “You should know that—”

“Not now,” I growl. “Whatever it is, it can wait until later.”

Pushing open the bedroom door, I find Carolina is no longer in bed. The water’s running in the bathroom, so after putting down the bags, I knock softly. When she doesn’t answer, I push the handle down to find she’s locked herself inside. “Carolina,” I call out, slamming my fist against the door. “Open up right fucking now.”

“I’m in the shower,” she shouts back.

Her dismissal angers me. “Open. The. Damn. Door.” The water shuts off, and a moment later, she unlocks and opens the door. “What’s the matter?” I ask as soon as I see her face, taking her hand and pulling her to me.

She looks up at me through wide eyes filled with fear, and… is that shame? “I-I’m so s-sorry, Nicklas,” she stutters. “I’ll fix it. I promise.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Fix what?” I question, gently cupping her face. She flinches like she thought I was going to hurt her. “What the fuck’s going on?” My tone becomes harsher. She tries to pull away from me, but I don’t let her. Instead, I place my hands on her hips.

Her face is ashen. “I… umm… I got my period,” she whispers, like she’s afraid to say the words out loud. “The sheets are ruined. And I know they’re expensive. I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for new ones.” Her rushed admission is too much, and I can’t hold my laughter back.

“You think I care about a little blood?” I question. “I got everything you might need,” I tell her, pointing at the bags on the floor.

“Oh!” Her mouth forms into a cute O as she frowns. “You knew?”

I nod. “Found out just before I left. Look, I didn’t know what you needed, so I got some of everything.” Letting go of her, I bend and pick up the two bags with the period shit and the two with clothes. “Why don’t you go clean up, and I’ll make sure breakfast is waiting when you come out?”

“Okay,” she agrees softly.

She takes the bags from me and disappears back into the bathroom. As the lock slides into place, I shout, “Don’t ever lock me out, Hellcat.” She lets out a squeak, but unlocks the door immediately.

Satisfied, I turn toward the bed and the bloodied sheets. Instead of asking one of my staff to change the bed, I strip it, knowing Carolina would hate knowing someone else had done it.

I gather the dirty sheets under my arm and pick the remaining bags up, and leave the bedroom. I run into one of the cleaners and hand her the dirty sheets, asking her to put fresh ones on once Carolina’s done in the shower.