Page 22 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
The sound of water running upstairs tells me she's awake, likely discovering the toiletries I've stocked in her bathroom. All chosen for her preferences, though she has no idea how I know she prefers vanilla scent or natural bristle hairbrushes.
Three years of watching has its advantages. Yet for the first time, I consider that my plan might not unfold perfectly.
My phone rings again. Patrick. I let it ring three times before answering with controlled irritation.
"This better be important."
"Sir, the Torrino family has taken our warehouse. Three dead, two wounded." Urgency fills his voice. "They're demanding to meet you personally."
"Goddamnit." Of all times for these Italian thugs to make a move. Kyra is exactly where I want her, and now this territorial bullshit.
"How long can this wait?" I ask, already calculating my absence.
"It can't. They're threatening more casualties."
I grip the phone tighter. For three years, I've planned this. Studied her. Dismantled her life piece by piece until I became her only option. Now when I finally have her isolated, this happens.
What makes it worse is knowing how close I am. Last night at dinner, I saw her response—pupils dilating when our hands touched, the way she leaned toward me, the flush spreading across her chest when I held her gaze. Her mind might resist, but her body knows.
But it's not just her beauty that drives me. It's her mind—brilliant, determined, equal to my own. She's not a trophy but a partner worthy of standing beside me.
"Tell them I'm coming," I say to Patrick. "Make it clear: harm anyone else before I arrive, and their entire family disappears."
"Understood."
I end the call and turn to find Kyra in the doorway, fresh from her shower in dark jeans and a green sweater that matches her eyes. Her hair is still damp, curling slightly at the ends.
"Good morning," I say, forcing warmth into my voice. "Sleep well?"
"Eventually," she admits, accepting the coffee I pour. I add cream in the exact amount she prefers, though she doesn't notice the precision. "Was that business? It sounded serious."
"Unfortunately, yes. Something that needs my attention in Denver." Each word tastes bitter—time away from her when I should be here. "I'll need to leave you alone most of the day."
"Leave?" Panic edges her voice despite her attempt to hide it. "But what about Aaron? What if he arrives while you're gone?"
I consider her question, seeing an opportunity. Better to let her spend the day anxiously waiting for a reunion that will never happen.
"I'm sure you can enjoy some alone time with him if he arrives," I say, watching hope flicker in her eyes. I let my tone suggest more intimate possibilities. "Perhaps it's for the best. You'll have privacy to... reconnect."
The color rising in her cheeks tells me she caught my meaning. But then something unexpected happens—she looks down, a flash of disappointment crossing her face.
"I'm not sure that's what Aaron would want anyway," she murmurs, then looks mortified, as if she hadn't meant to speak aloud.
"No?" I ask, careful to keep my voice neutral despite the surge of satisfaction. Another crack in their supposed perfect relationship.
"I shouldn't—it's not—" She stops, flustered. "That's not something I should discuss with you."
"Of course," I concede, filing away this revelation. Aaron—predictably—disappoints her sexually. Information I'll use to my advantage later. "I understand some things are private."
She nods gratefully, though the flush hasn't left her cheeks.
"Do you think he'll come today?" she asks, clearly eager to change the subject.
"Anything's possible," I reply noncommittally. "The storm has cleared, after all. I'll be back tonight," I add, watching her focus on her breakfast with renewed intensity, clearly embarrassed by her slip. "You have the run of the place until then."
"This is incredible," she says, taking another bite of the eggs Benedict. Her eyes close as she savors it, and she makes a soft sound of pleasure in her throat. "Mmm. You didn't have to go to this trouble."
The sound travels straight through me, awakening an immediate physical response. I shift slightly in my chair, imagining those same sounds in a very different context. The unconscious sensuality in her expression tells me everything I need to know about her capacity for pleasure—and Aaron's failure to fully unlock it.
