Christmas Kisses

22. Angel

22

ANGEL

M y eyes dart from Christian’s monster dick to my door before I divert them back to a part of his body maintaining its own pulse. He looks as disappointed as me, but since he has more etiquette, he attempts to barter Mrs. Roach’s interruption.

I say “attempts” because I clamp my hand over his mouth before he can speak and then briskly shake my head. If he lets Mrs. Roach in, we won’t get her out for at least an hour. My horniness can’t wait that long, and I’ve already orgasmed twice.

We breathe as one for several long seconds before Mrs. Roach announces why fooling around with Christian is a bad idea. “I wanted to ask you about the eviction notice Mr. Richler handed me.” The croakiness of her voice can’t be missed. She is devastated.

Christian stares at me in bewilderment when I say, “Just a minute.”

Minus the stomach prosthetic, I tug on the bodysuit I was wearing earlier, sans panties since they’re nowhere to be seen, before heading for my apartment door.

Although I shouldn’t, I sling my head back to Christian to make sure his cock is tucked away before I grant Mrs. Roach access to my apartment.

As suspected, tears are glossing her cheeks, and her bottom lip is extra plump from how many times she’s run her teeth over it.

“Did you say he gave you an eviction notice?”

Mrs. Roach peers at Christian over my shoulder for half a second before she nods. She knows what she’s interrupting but is too lost on why she is holding an eviction notice to act cordially.

“It says I have to be out before the new year. Is that right?” She seeks an answer from my eyes as I speed-read the document she thrust into my hand. “That can’t be right. I have a lease.”

Help comes from an unlikely source. “Were you given any grievance notices prior to this? An infringement notice that didn’t involve a sweater?”

Tears fling off her cheeks as she shakes her head. “Never. I pay my rent on time every month and have always had exclamatory inspection reports.”

My teeth grit when I recall why they’ve had to be creative with Mrs. Roach’s eviction notice. She can afford the astronomically high rental prices this building now demands because her husband had an impressive life insurance policy.

After ensuring I have my facts straight, I say, “They’re saying her apartment isn’t safe for tenancy. That the mold in the bathroom is dangerous.”

“Mold?” Mrs. Roach’s watering eyes bounce between Christian and me. “There’s no mold. I have a cleaner come in once a week.” She stops, then gulps. “There was that one water leak a couple of months ago.” Her eyes are back on me. “It made a horrible mess, but I don’t think it is mold.”

“Think won’t work with these people. You need the damage inspected by a professional.”

Mrs. Roach twists to face Christian, the person issuing the caution. “It is two days out from Christmas. How will I find someone at such short notice?”

He fetches his coat like it will hide his elf shoes, before saying, “You found him.”

“You’re a plumber?”

I’m glad Mrs. Roach can’t hold back her shock. I’m too stunned, and perhaps still a little lusty, to force words from my mouth. I can barely stand.

“No. But I am a qualified building inspector.”

My eyes bulge when Christian gestures for Mrs. Roach to show him the way.

She seeks my advice. I nod. It isn’t a confident head bob, but it is a confirmation, nonetheless.

Christian’s shoulders can barely fit through the doorway in Mrs. Roach’s laundry room, so we wait for him in the living room. His inspection of the pipes via the access hole in the laundry room is long enough for the lust thickening my veins to thin a smidge and to double the worry on Mrs. Roach’s face.

She doesn’t want to be evicted any more than I do. This is her home. She might not own her apartment, but she has lived here for over thirty years.

Mrs. Roach sits up straight half a second after the fine hairs on my body stand to attention. Christian’s elf outfit is ruined. He’s covered in a soot that looks oddly similar to health-harming mold.

He announces Mrs. Roach’s worst fear. “There is mold. However”—I don’t breathe while waiting for him to continue—“not enough to warrant an eviction.” He shifts his eyes to me. “I can’t say the same for the building’s structure.” I attempt to interrupt him, so he speaks faster. “A pipe appears to have been cracked for some time. A lot of damage occurred to the trusses of your apartment and the one next door.”

“What does that mean?” Mrs. Roach asks when the tension becomes too much for her to ignore.

“It means you’ll need to move until repairs are done.”

I don’t pay any attention to the snippet of hope in his tone. “No.”

Christian’s eyes snap to me. “It’s not safe to live here. The structure is compromised.”

I shoot up to my feet, needing to pace. “I don’t care.”

“You may not, but I do,” he bites back. “It isn’t safe.”

“Says the guy willing to do anything to force me out of my home.”

“This has nothing to do with that assignment.”

Mrs. Roach’s cheeks inflame when I shout, “Yeah, right. Just like going down on me was purely for your pleasure.”

“It was!” Christian retaliates, uncaring that we have an audience. “And if that’s as far as it goes, I’m fine with that. It already made me the luckiest guy alive.”

I’m extra snappy when snowed under with emotions I don’t know how to handle. “Did Mrs. Richler not pay you enough for pity sex?”

His face reddens until it is brighter than his natural hair coloring. “I gave Mrs. Richler her check back two days ago. It was hours after I contacted the rental tribunal on your behalf and hours before you flopped my dick around like it was a gummy worm.” He steps closer as if my cruelty didn’t shred his confidence to pieces. “I thought she was kicking you out for unjust reasons?—”

“That is why I am being evicted.”

He thrusts his hand at an obviously drenched wall. “Your eviction could be based on the principle that the premises is unsafe for occupancy.” He waves his hand through the air. “The safety of the entire building could be compromised.”

“Oh, so now you don’t want to kick just me out of my home. You want to toss hundreds of tenants out in the cold only days from Christmas as well?”

I freeze like a statue when he says, “It’s better not to be home for one Christmas than never to celebrate it again! You won’t be able to celebrate anything if you’re dead.” Remorse settles on his face as fast as the words whip from his mouth. “Shit.” He steps closer. “Angel?—”

“Don’t.” I wipe the stupid tear rolling down my cheek before pulling away from him. “You’re right. This is my karma.” I can’t see through the grief clouding me. I can’t breathe through it. “None of this would be happening if I had just come home for Christmas like I’d promised.”

“Darling, no.” Mrs. Roach doubles my dizziness by briskly shaking her head. “This isn’t your fault.”

“It is. Mrs. Richler hates me, and she’s taking her dislike out on everyone else.”

“No. This fight commenced years before you went to Juilliard.” Mrs. Roach grabs my hand I suddenly realize is wet from when I wiped my cheeks. “Your mother didn’t tell you because she didn’t want you to give up your dreams for someone unworthy of your time.” When I scoff like I don’t believe her, she hits me with a truth that almost knocks me on my ass. “That’s why she placed your name on the lease. She wanted to make sure you were protected if anything happened to them because she didn’t trust Mrs. Richler. Placing you on their lease meant Mrs. Richler wouldn’t have a legal leg to stand on if she tried to go against you. Your mother was a beautiful woman, Angel, but she was also incredibly smart. She played Mrs. Richler at her own game.”

I can’t speak, stunned into silence, so Christian picks up the slack. “Angel’s name is on the lease?” When Mrs. Roach nods, he points to the ground. “On the original ninety-nine-year lease of her apartment?”

Again, she nods. “Yes. The building’s owner re-signed them only five years ago. He understood a parent’s wish to protect their child and helped her achieve that.” She turns her watering eyes to me. “Were you not informed?”

“No.” I shake my head before adding more words to my shocked reply. “I was under the assumption I was trespassing in my own home.”

“Oh, darling. I thought you knew. If I hadn’t, I would have told you sooner.”

Her confession makes Christian’s smile blinding.

It makes me angry.

I’m meant to be mad, not admiring his sultry grin.

He looks at me as if I just asked to have sex with him while saying, “Your name is on the lease.” I stare at him in silence, lost on why he’s acting so neurotic. He looks like it is Christmas morning and I suddenly overcame my dislike of Christmas. “That changes everything. You have rights. A fucking ton of them.” For the first time in the past minute, his shoulders sag. “But I can’t tell you what they are here. It isn’t safe.”

“I’m not going.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I refuse.”

His smile. Kill me now.

“Then I guess I have no choice but to force you out.”

“Already tried that. Failed miserably.” My cockiness slips when he pivots on his heel and heads for the exit. I follow him. “Christian… no… don’t you dare!” I shout when he flicks up the safety cover of the fire alarm button just outside Mrs. Roach’s front door. “I’ll—” The loud shrill of the fire alarm cuts off my threat.

I hit Christian with the stink eye to rival all stink eyes before I march back into the living room and plop my ass on the plastic covers Mrs. Roach purchased for my mother the Christmas before she passed. I assume Mrs. Roach was a guest at my parents’ Christmas Eve brunch because my mother never left the plastic on long enough to mold them to the cushions.

My backside barely braces the protective covering of Mrs. Roach’s couch when Christian snatches up my wrist, hoists me up, and then tosses me onto his shoulder like he did this morning.

“Put me down!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

When he refuses my request, I throw out my arms and legs.

He grunts but continues strolling like not a single whack hits his crotch, which I am aiming for.

I fight him all the way. Down the stairwell flooded with guests and residents, through the foyer worthy of the hefty price tag apartments in my building seek, and into the street where multiple firetrucks are racing down the narrow opening.

My beatdown ends when the fire chief’s inspector backs up Christian’s claims that the building is unsafe for tenancy. “Whoever oversaw the remodel wasn’t qualified, and the materials used aren’t up to industry standards.”

His confirmation makes my building owner’s face the most furious I’ve seen. Isaac is pissed, and the entirety of his focus is on Mr. Richler, whose bully-like composure withers when Isaac learns unsafe building practices didn’t solely compromise the safety of dozens of Ravenshoe families.

They could have also affected his wife.

Isabelle dazzles in a white sequin dress at Isaac’s right. She is a perfect Christmas angel and seemingly the only person capable of weakening her husband’s wish to kill when he learns tonight isn’t the first time she’s been inside this building this week.

As Officer Holt assures Isaac her safety was never compromised, Isaac glares at Mr. Richler. His toothy snarl is an exact replica of the one Christian hits Mrs. Richler with when she shows up to a battle unarmed.