Page 11 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
"Money solves most problems." Victor leaned forward. "With the right backing, your research could advance years ahead of schedule."
The way he said "your research"—not medical research in general, but mine specifically—sent warmth flooding through me.
"Are you offering to fund my work, Mr. Strickland?" I asked, my joking tone falling flat against his serious expression.
"Victor," he corrected. "And I might be. I'm always interested in promising investments."
The word "investments" lingered between us, weighted with implications.
"My research is just one small piece of a much larger puzzle," I said, looking down at my dessert. "There are many scientists more deserving of funding."
"I disagree." His voice dropped lower. "You have a unique perspective. A personal motivation that drives you beyond academic curiosity."
My head snapped up. "How do you know about my parents?"
Victor's smile was slight but satisfied. "I make it my business to know about important people in my life, Kyra."
Not "in my son's life." In his life.
Before I could respond, he stood and moved to the sideboard where a decanter waited. "More wine?"
"No, thank you." I was acutely aware of him behind me, his presence radiating heat.
"You're different from Aaron's previous girlfriends," he said, his voice closer than I expected. When I turned, he was standing just inches away. "More substantial."
"Substantial," I repeated, unable to look away. "That sounds like a polite way of calling me boring."
"Far from it." His hand moved to brush a strand of hair from my face. His fingers lingered at my temple, then traced down to my jaw. "I find you fascinating."
It was then I noticed it—a tattoo on his right hand, partially visible beneath his shirt cuff. A rose with delicate petals and thorns.
"I like your tattoo," I said. "I wouldn't have expected you to have one."
Victor glanced down at his hand, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before his lips curved into a smile.
"Thank you," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Roses are my favorite flower. Beautiful but dangerous—the thorns are there for a reason."
The moment stretched between us. I knew I should step back, but I stood frozen as Victor's thumb brushed the corner of my mouth.
"You have..." His voice roughened. "A bit of chocolate. Just there."
The touch was intimate and thrilling in ways I didn't want to acknowledge. I gasped, and I saw something flash in Victor's eyes—recognition, satisfaction, hunger.
"Dad? Kyra?" Aaron's voice from the hallway broke the moment.
Victor stepped back smoothly, the charged moment disappearing behind his practiced smile. But as Aaron entered the room, I caught Victor looking at me, his right hand absently tracing the rose tattoo with his thumb, his expression promising this wasn't the end.
***
"Miss? We're losing signal now."
The driver's voice pulls me back to the present. The car is climbing higher into the mountains, snow beginning to fall in thick, fat flakes that blur the windshield between wiper strokes.
"You should make any necessary calls now," he continues. "Once we're past this ridge, there's no service until the cabin, and even there it's spotty at best."
I glance at my phone—one bar of service remaining. On impulse, I call Kayla instead of trying Aaron again.
"Hey, it's me," I say when she answers. "Just checking in about that place on your couch if things don't—"
