Page 68 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
I force myself to meet his eyes. They're red-rimmed, desperate, but there's something else there now. Something that looks almost like pity.
"You're not like him," he whispers. "I know you think you love him, but you're not capable of this kind of evil. You're good, Kyra. You're kind. You save lives, you don't take them."
"Do I?" I ask quietly, and I'm disturbed by how detached my voice sounds. "Because I've been sitting here for twenty minutes thinking about all the ways this could go, and murder isn't immediately off the table. What does that make me?"
"It makes you scared," Aaron says urgently. "Confused. Manipulated by someone who's had time to get inside your head."
"Or it makes me practical." The words slip out before I can stop them, and I see Aaron's face crumple. "You said it yourself—Victor is dangerous. His business associates are dangerous. If you know too much, if you're a threat to our future..."
"Our future?" Aaron's voice cracks. "You were crying over me. You loved me."
"I thought love meant settling for someone who canceled dates to get drunk with his frat brothers." I stand up, beginning to pace. "I thought love meant begging for attention from someone who flirted with other girls right in front of me."
"That's not—I never—"
"The redhead at Jake's party. The brunette at the campus coffee shop. Should I keep going?" Each word is a small cruelty,but they feel good coming out. Cleansing, almost. "You treated me like an accessory, Aaron. Something pretty to have on your arm when it was convenient."
"So you're going to let him kill me for it?"
The question hangs in the air, and I realize I don't know the answer. Before all of this, the idea would have horrified me. Now I'm calculating the pros and cons like it's a research proposal.
Pros:Victor's world stays protected. Our future remains secure. No loose ends to complicate our marriage.
Cons:I become an accessory to murder. Someone's son dies because I'm too selfish to find another solution.
"He won't kill you," I say finally. "Will you, Victor?"
"That depends entirely on what you decide," Victor replies pleasantly. "I'm flexible."
Patrick chuckles from his position by the door, and the sound makes my skin crawl. These men find this amusing. A family discussion that might end in bloodshed, and they're entertained.
"You see?" Aaron says desperately. "You see how calm they are about this? This is what his world looks like, Kyra. Violence as a first resort, not a last one. Is that really what you want for your life?"
"I want security," I hear myself say. "I want to be protected. I want someone who sees my worth and fights to keep me."
"Even if fighting means murder?"
I consider this seriously, turning the question over in my mind like a complex equation. "Even if fighting means eliminating threats to our happiness, yes."
"Jesus Christ," Aaron breathes. "He's turned you into him."
"No," Victor says, finally turning from the window. "I've simply revealed who she always was underneath all that conditioning about being nice, being good, being acceptable to people who were never worthy of her anyway."
He moves toward me and I don't step back. I should be afraid of him—this man who's discussing his son's death with the same tone he used to discuss breakfast plans. Instead, I feel drawn to his certainty, his complete lack of moral ambiguity.
"The world is divided into two types of people," Victor continues, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Those who take what they want, and those who spend their lives wondering what it would be like to be brave enough to reach for it."
"And which type am I?" I ask, though I think I already know the answer.
"You're learning to take," he says with approval. "The question is: what are you willing to take first?"
His thumb traces my lower lip, and I find myself leaning into the touch despite Aaron's horrified stare. This man who's offering me everything I've ever wanted, at the cost of becoming someone I never thought I could be.
"Victor," I breathe, and hunger flashes in his eyes.
"Show him," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that intimate register that makes my heart race. "Show him who you belong to now."
I rise up on my toes and crash my mouth against Victor's, kissing him with desperate hunger. His arms come around me immediately, pulling me flush against his body as he deepens the kiss with possessive thoroughness.
