Page 94 of Sinning for Santa

Her eyes turn glassy.

“Yes,” she admits quietly, “but not by you.”

My brows hitch as I shoot her a ‘really’ look, and her face softens.

“Okay, notonlyby you.”

I smirk, and a faint one tugs at her lips too.

Sometimes I forget why she’s here with me.

She’s a decent woman. Kind. Selfless. A little too fucking selfless if you ask me.

She certainly doesn’t deserve this shit, or the way I’ve treated her.

Easing her legs off my shoulders, I lower her feet to my desk and point sternly at her.

“Stay there. Don’t move.”

She bites her lip, nibbling on the plump flesh, making me want to kiss her and forget about everything, but that willhave to wait. I’ve distracted her with sex far too much. Now’s the time for some truths.

Stepping away from her, I move to the Marx family portrait on the wall and swing it open like a door to reveal my safe. Keying in the code, it beeps and unlatches and I reach in to retrieve the black pouch.

“There’s something I need you to hear,” I say, turning back to her and watching how she tracks my movements, her gaze locked on the pouch in my hand.

Slowly, I pull her phone free, and she goes to grab it, but I shake my head, holding it up high, out of her reach.

“Uh, uh. Not yet, little mouse. Just listen.”

Ignoring her confused frown, I open her phone and go to the voicemails, tapping on the first one to play.

Message Received from: Eddie

“Good morning, Jaxcen. I’m a little surprised that I’m having to make this call. It’s quite an inconvenience, as I’m sure you already know, so I don’t know why you’re behaving like this. The rules haven’t changed. You call me every morning at nine, yet it’s just ticked over to eleven. I’m looking forward to hearing what has you so busy that you can’t call your fiancé.”

Red hot heat has engulfed Jaxcen’s neck and cheeks, her eyes a little glassy, and it’s hard to tell if it’s humiliation, or anger.

“So that’s Eddie?” I ask, and she gives me a single, angry nod.

Anger is good. Although I’m not sure if she’s angry at me or her fiancé.

“He has rules for you?”

Again, she gives me a single nod.

“You call him every morning at nine?”

“Yes,” she snaps, her eyes not on me but the phone in my hand.

“Does he always act like a pompous arse?”

She shrugs. “He never used to.”

Hmmm. He never used to. Probably before the church, aka a cult, brainwashed him.

I can see she doesn’t want to say much, so I play the next voicemail.

Message Received from: Eddie

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