Bought By Santa (Seasonal Obsessions #1)

Chapter 28

The Breeder

I t’s close to noon when Nick and I finally step into the privacy of our apartment. The door shuts with a soft click, and I lean back against it, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over me like a thick blanket.

“I need a goddamn shower,” he murmurs, and there’s no arguing with that voice—deep, commanding, yet laced with something softer when he speaks to me.

Not that I want to argue. After two days in the hospital, and then a test that threatened to shatter my mind, a shower sounds like heaven.

I’m still not sure how I feel about the test. Relief it really was just that, a test, and that nothing happened to Nick? Or unease at not knowing what would have happened if I’d chosen wrong. The question gnaws at me, begging to be voiced. But I refuse since nothing good can come from that.

Deep in my soul, I feel that this is one question I don’t want the answer to. No, it’s better to focus on the victory, and then somehow move on.

As soon as we enter the bathroom, Nick switches the shower on, activating all the showerheads so the room is filled with steam in seconds. The sound of water cascading is soothing. He undresses quickly, and I watch the way his sculpted ass flexes as he walks into the shower.

Taking my time, I braid my hair so it’s hanging down my back. Although it feels greasy and dry, I refuse to waste time washing it. Then I undress, but before joining him, I brush my teeth. Trying to ignore the drawer with the pregnancy tests is futile, it’s calling me like a beacon. Giving in, I take one out and pee on it. Then I wrap it up in toilet paper and place it on the counter before joining Nick.

Under the warm spray, his hands are gentle, not the rough touch of the Mafia boss who rules with an iron fist, but the tender care of a man who knows every curve and contour of my body. His fingers glide over my skin, tracing paths of cleanliness and comfort. Even though he touches me everywhere, his touch isn’t sexual. Not that my body understands that.

My nipples still pebble, wetness gathers in my core, and my breathing turns ragged. Just as I feel his erection digging into my stomach. We both ignore it, too content washing each other.

It might sound silly, but this is the most intimate we’ve been. Sure, this man has eaten both my pussy and ass, yet it’s nothing compared to the way his gaze bores into mine while he washes me between my folds.

Returning the gesture, my hands run across the expanse of his tattooed chest, pausing at the scar spelling out my future initials. It’s perfect.

“Thank you,” I whisper, the words almost lost in the sound of the water. It’s not just for this moment but for all the moments since he saw me in the alley when I stumbled upon him and Jack in the middle of an execution.

He nods, understanding, and pulls me close, his forehead resting against mine. We stand there, holding each other in the warmth and the mist, worlds away from the harsh realities that wait outside.

After the shower, I wrap myself in a towel and use my hand to wipe the mirror clear of steam. The pregnancy test sits on the counter, a silent sentinel of hope and disappointment. I peer down at it, heart hammering.

Negative. Again.

The single word echoes in my mind, a stark reminder of the timeline closing in on us. Five days left, five days to fulfill a contract I’m no longer sure I’m even still bound by. My dreams of a rich husband to provide for Willow and me have morphed into something deeper with Nick, something real.

“Carolina.” His voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts, pulling me back to the present. He’s watching me, those dark eyes seeing right through me. “It doesn’t matter,” he says firmly, stepping closer. His hand lifts, his finger tracing the initials carved into his chest. A permanent mark, a promise. “We’re forever, so we have all the time in the world.”

I don’t know if the first part of what he’s saying is true. Something tells me it isn’t, and that the deadline for conceiving is as important now as it was when we started. But I still appreciate that he’s doing his best to put me at ease.

My heart clenches, emotions swirling—a cocktail of love, disappointment, and desperation. Here’s a man who burns the world for me, who defies his own ruthless nature to give me tenderness.

“Forevermore,” I say.

“Exactly,” he agrees. “Now that you’ve passed your test, there’s no rush.”

Rationally, I know that we’re tethered by a connection that goes deeper than any contract and timeline. Yet, I’m still disappointed. I wanted to give him this; the one thing he’s asked me for. I reach out, touching the raised skin of my initials, feeling the heat of his blood beneath.

“It will happen,” I stubbornly say, lifting my chin. “I’ll give you an heir before Christmas.”

“I’m sure,” he rumbles, the protective edge in his voice wrapping around me like a warm embrace. “But for now, how about we get some rest?”

Shaking my head, I open the cupboard above the sink and start pulling out items of makeup. It’s all luxury branded stuff that Nick’s bought, and I’m not sure I want to know how he’s managed to get the shades correct.

I begin my ritual with a rich moisturizer, followed by dabbing on concealer to hide the dark circles haunting my reflection. My hand pauses as I catch Nick’s frown in the glass.

“Why are you getting ready? We just got back and you need rest.” His voice is a low rumble, confusion lacing his words like a thread out of place on one of his immaculate suits.

“I need to see my sister,” I say, as I finish with the concealer and add foundation. “I want to be the one to tell her about her security detail.” As we left the warehouse, Nick arranged for some of his men to guard Will at all times, which I appreciate. But she still needs to hear about it from me.

“Dammit, Carolina, we’ve been over this,” he growls, coming up behind me, his presence a furnace at my back. “It’s already done.”

“She still needs to hear it from me.” I turn to face him, my hands planted firmly on my hips, challenging his dominant stance.

His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking with restrained anger, or maybe it’s concern. It’s always hard to tell with Nick. Finally, he exhales sharply, the sound cutting through the tension. “Fine. But I’m coming with you—”

“No, you’re not. I need—”

“Enough!” he shouts. “I won’t jeopardize your safety for anyone. Not even your sister.”

Our eye contact becomes a battlefield, a battle of wills. But I know there’s no changing his mind, not if he perceives my safety to be threatened. “Fine,” I agree. Then I turn back to finish my makeup, keeping it light by just adding a touch of eyeliner and mascara.

“Call her then, set it up. And Caro…” He pauses, his hand cupping my cheek, thumb brushing my skin gently—a contrast to the hard lines of his body. “… I couldn’t bear anything happening to you. You know that.”

“I know,” I softly reply, my hand brushing across the scar on his face before I step into the bedroom.

Finding my phone, I call Will, putting her on speaker so I can get dressed while we talk.

“Hey, Will, how about lunch today? My treat,” I say when she answers, my voice brighter than I feel.

While I pull on a pair of black dress pants and a Christmassy red cashmere sweater that clings to me, we make the arrangements, and I promise to pick her up within the hour. Feeling inspired by the color, I go back to the bathroom and find a matching lipstick, and as I carefully dab it on my lips, I start to feel more at ease.

Jack’s going to be okay. My sister will be fine. And I… I’m happy. It feels weird to admit, but Nick makes me deliriously happy. Not in a mushy, gushy way, thankfully. Once upon a time, I might have thought that was the dream, but now, thanks to my twisted Santa, I know myself better.

After slipping on a pair of sky-high stilettos that look better than they feel on my feet, I settle a stylish beret over my braided hair. Luckily, I managed to keep it dry in the shower, and since I didn’t have time to wash and dry it, I hide it under the hat.

Nick’s waiting for me in the kitchen, with Marco and two other guys, and together we leave the apartment. Marco leads the way, making us wait in the elevator while he surveys the underground garage before waving us over to a vehicle that looks like a fortress on wheels.

“It’s bulletproof,” Nick explains as we slide into the backseat together.

“Of course it is,” I quip.

The other two guys slide into the seat behind me and Nick.

We drive in silence to pick up Willow, the city blurring past us like a tapestry of chaos and life. When we reach her place, the two guys jump out and quickly help her into the car, seating her opposite us before folding her wheelchair and placing it in the back.

Despite the confusion she must feel, her smile is a ray of sun piercing through the shadows that cling to my soul. “Nice ride,” Will comments. Then she looks between me and Nick. “So you’re him?”

“Him?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

As I look at Nick, I try to imagine what my sister is seeing. She’s never been one to judge anyone by their looks, but there’s no denying he looks intimidating thanks to his intense gaze and the scar on his face. Oh, and then there’s the fact we’re being chauffeured in a fucking fortress, with bodyguards behind us.

“Ruby’s brother,” she answers easily. “The one who got engaged to my sister without even meeting me.”

Nick laughs. “That would be me, and I’m very sorry about that, Willow. Maybe I can earn your approval during lunch.”

She giggles, and the two of them continue their conversation. I’m content just to listen, and only interject when I feel like it’s needed. Which isn’t much.

The restaurant is swanky, the kind of place I never thought I’d be able to afford to step foot in, let alone dine in. The hostess’ eyes sweep over us, pausing on Nick, before she ushers us to a horse-shoe shaped booth in the back, tucked away from prying eyes.

The clink of silverware and the murmur of conversations cocoon me as Nick and I slide into the red leather booth while Will remains in her wheelchair at the end of the table. The scent of garlic and herbs wafts from the kitchen, promising a meal that’ll make you forget about the world outside these walls. Nick’s presence is like a gravitational pull, his dark eyes scanning the restaurant with an authority that makes my skin tingle.

“You should try the lasagna, Willow,” Nick suggests with a warm smile that is both natural and unnatural on his handsome face. “It’s legendary here.”

“Ooh, sold!” she giggles, her eyes dancing with delight. She’s always been easy to please, always seen the light in the shadows.

I watch them, my heart swelling at my sister’s laughter, yet it’s laced with a pang of guilt. How do I shatter this moment with the truth? That the man making her laugh is the head of the Knight Mafia? And that because of that, she’s now going to be watched twenty-four-seven? Yeah, there’s no easy way to say any of that.

“Are you okay? You look a bit… I don’t know, lost?” Nick leans in, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me.

“Fine.” I force a smile, but my hands tremble beneath the table. “Just thinking about dessert.”

“Always planning ahead,” he teases, and I can’t tell if he sees right through me or if he buys my act.

I open my mouth, ready to spill it all to Will when the universe decides it has other plans. A waiter, bustling by with a tray piled high with steaming dishes, clips the edge of our table. My phone skitters off the edge like a stone over ice, slamming onto the floor.

“Dammit!” I hiss, and Nick’s hand shoots out to grab my wrist.

“Let me,” he insists, but I’m quicker. I duck down, my fingers closing around my phone.

The sound of a gunshot rips through the chatter, a cruel blade slashing the fabric of normality. Screams erupt around us, a symphony of terror that threatens to suffocate. Instinctively, I jerk upright, my heart slamming against my ribs with the force of a caged bird desperate to escape.

“Carolina! Get down!” Nick’s voice is a command, hard and unyielding, but my body rebels. My eyes dart to Will; her smile, just seconds ago so vibrant, now a fading echo on her lips, replaced by sheer terror.

“Will!” My voice is a raw scream as another shot pierces the air, its deadly whisper close, too close.

Nick’s arms are iron bands trying to drag me away, but I twist in his grip. “Let me go!” I’m half-sobbing, my voice tearing at the edges. He’s trying to protect me, but doesn’t he understand? My sister is exposed, vulnerable, and every cell in my body screams to shield her.

“Carolina, please—” His plea cuts off as I break free, lunging toward Will.

Time slows, each moment a torture, each second an eternity. I see the panic in her eyes, the way her mouth forms my name—a silent call for help. And then the unthinkable happens. A third shot rings out, the bullet finds its mark, and she crumples like a marionette with snipped strings.

“Willow!” Her name is a prayer, a curse, as I drop to my knees beside her. She’s so still, too still, her eyes wide and unseeing, her chest eerily motionless. Blood blooms like a crimson blossom against her pale sweater, and something inside me shatters. “Stay with me, Will. Please, stay with me.” My hands shake as I press them to the wound, a futile attempt to stem the tide of red. Tears blur my vision, hot and relentless.

This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

“Help her!” I scream, turning to Nick, to anyone who will listen. His face is a mask of rage and sorrow, a mirror of the agony tearing through me.

He says something, but his voice is distant, swallowed by the chaos surrounding us.

“Will! Come on, talk to me.” But she doesn’t respond, doesn’t move, and something vital within me withers.

The light, her light, flickers out, leaving me in darkness. My world, once filled with the hope of a better future—for her, for us—collapses into a void where only despair thrives.

“Please, no…” My words dissolve into sobs, my body curled protectively over hers, as if my love could somehow reverse the cold finality of death. But it’s too late. My precious sister, the one I’ve fought so hard to provide for, to protect, is gone. And with her, a part of my soul.

“Carolina.” Nick’s voice is thick with unspoken pain. He reaches for me, but I recoil from his touch, lost in the abyss of my grief. Willow was all I had left in this world, and now…

Now there’s nothing.

Well, almost nothing. One thing remains…

Heat ignites in my veins, a searing fire that eclipses all reason. My grief is a living thing, clawing its way out of the chasm left by Willow’s absence. Marco and his men have the shooter pinned down, a writhing mass of limbs and muffled curses on the checkered floor of the restaurant.

“No! Stay here!” Nicklas’ rough command barely registers over the roar in my ears.

I shove him aside, an unexpected strength surging through me, propelling me toward the man responsible for extinguishing Will’s light. He struggles against the security, but my focus narrows to the cold, sharp promise of pain.

“No!” I hear Nicklas bellow, a distant echo as I launch myself at the assailant with a primal scream.

Our bodies collide, and I’m vaguely aware of shocked gasps and shouts around us. The shooter’s eyes widen in terror as I straddle him, his arms flailing in a futile attempt to defend himself. I rain blows upon him, each strike a release of the tempest inside me.

“This is for her. For Willow,” I snarl, my voice drenched in anguish.

I haven’t noticed one of my stilettoes falling off my foot, but as I see it next to me, I reach for it. My fingers close around the nose of the shoe as I use the heel as a weapon of destruction, plunging it into his flesh with sickening ease.

Once, twice, thrice—each thrust a punctuation to my sister’s stolen future.

The red pooling under him is a grotesque mirror to the blood that now stains my soul, but I can’t stop. I keep going.

“Get her off!” someone yells, hands trying to pry me away, but I am unyielding, a force of nature unleashed.

“Carolina, stop!” It’s Nicklas again, his arms finally wrapping around me, dragging me back into the world of the living. But I can’t stop shaking, can’t stop the raw screams tearing from my throat.

“Willow…” The name is a sob, a plea, a curse.

The aftermath is surreal, patrons huddled under tables, faces pale and eyes wide. Staff cluster by the kitchen, phones pressed to their ears, their uniforms splattered with reminders of violence. Glass crunches underfoot as sirens wail in the distance, the once festive atmosphere now a tableau of horror and disbelief.

“Is he…” I can’t finish the question, my gaze locked onto the motionless form beneath the security team.

“Dead,” Marco confirms.

“You killed him,” Nick says, his voice tinted with awe. I look up at him, searching for judgment, for condemnation. But there’s only sorrow and something else—a fierce protectiveness that both comforts and terrifies me.

“An eye for an eye,” I whisper, my fingers trembling as I touch the sticky red on my hands, “a life for a life.”

I stand there, my breaths jagged, staring down at the man whose life has just ebbed away under my hand. My stiletto, a lethal extension of my rage, drips with the consequence of my fury. There’s no tremor in my grip, no second-guessing the darkness that has settled over me like a shroud.

“Carolina?” Nick’s voice cuts through the pandemonium, but I feel distant, disconnected from the chaos that my actions have wrought. The restaurant is a warzone of overturned chairs and shattered lives, yet all I see is the void where Will’s light used to be. “Are you okay?” he asks, his hand reaching for my shoulder.

The touch should ground me, pull me back from the brink, but it doesn’t. I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “I’ll never be okay again. The light in my life just flickered out.”

It’s not just words; it’s a chilling revelation.

A part of me—the part that sang Christmas carols with Will and always looked out for her—has been snuffed out. In its place is a cold certainty that I will never return to who I was before this moment.

“Let’s get out of here,” Nick urges, his eyes scanning the room, ever vigilant even now.

“No!” I scream, turning back to where Will lies, her wheelchair on its side now. I barely register a fleeting thought wondering why she didn’t get out and hide under the table. I know why; shock. “I’m not leaving her.”

“Marco can—”

“I said no.”

Nick looks at one of the guys who was meant to protect us, and signals for him to come over. “Get her wheelchair,” he orders. Then he steps over to her, and with more care than I’ve ever seen him handle anything or anyone, he picks her up, cradling her lifeless body against his chest. “Can we leave now?”

Nodding, I follow him mechanically, stepping over debris, my senses dulled to everything but the weight of emptiness within me. I don’t hear the sirens approaching or the murmured prayers of the survivors. I don’t feel the December chill as we exit the restaurant. All I feel is the hollowness where my sister’s laughter once lived.

“Stay with me, Carolina,” Nick says, his voice a lifeline I’m not sure I want to grab.

Can this man, bound by blood and violence, truly understand the abyss into which I’ve fallen? Does he grasp that, in seeking vengeance, I’ve birthed a new version of myself—one that might match his own darkness?

“Nick…” I start, but words fail me. How do I explain that the woman he knew—the one who plotted to trap a rich husband, who dreamed of a brighter future is fading fast, leaving only the raw edges of a soul torn apart?

“Shh,” he soothes, pulling me close. “You don’t have to say anything.”

But silence is its own torment, and as we flee the scene of my transformation, I can’t help but wonder if the void inside me is not a pit but a womb, gestating a new life forged from loss and retribution. And whether Nicklas Knight, the man who commands empires and demands loyalty, is ready for the woman I am becoming.

As we drive away, the city lights blur into streaks of color, bleeding into the sky. They speak of life going on, of a world oblivious to the fracture in my universe. And somewhere deep inside, something primal stirs—a recognition that survival requires adaptation, that sometimes creation is born from destruction.

“What should we do with the body?” the guy—I don’t know his name—asks.

I pretend not to hear them as I sit in the backseat with Will’s head resting in my lap. If I don’t focus on the bullet hole or the blood, I can almost imagine she’s sleeping. But… she isn’t sleeping. She’s dead—gone to a place where I’m not ready to follow.

“We should cremate her,” I reply, barely recognizing my own voice. “That’s what she wanted.”

“Now?” Nick asks, and I’m startled by the question.

Is that even possible? What am I thinking, of course it is. “Yes, now.” I reply. “I want it all taken care of today. And we need to tell Dr. Hargrove, and I need to call the—”

Nick clears his throat. “Can… Ruby would love to help if you’d let her. And I’m sure she would want to say goodbye.”

I nod stiffly. Even with the time I spent with Ruby at the hospital, I can’t say I care much for her. But Willow did, and she would have wanted Ruby’s help… I think. “Okay,” I agree.

Closing my eyes, I pray for darkness to take over, or a hole to open up and swallow the car. But of course none of that happens. And maybe that’s for the best because no matter how bleak everything looks right now, I’m not ready to say goodbye.

As I open my eyes, I look at Nick. He’s so much more than what everyone thinks; to me, he’s everything.

I’ve already embraced his darkness, so I can do the same for my own. Right?