Page 17 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
The comment hangs between us, charged with unspoken meaning. I take the chair opposite hers, close enough for conversation but not so close as to make her uncomfortable.
"You seemed surprised by Aaron's change of heart," I say after a moment.
She looks into her glass. "It wasn't like him to just end things so abruptly. Three years together, and then suddenly 'I need space.' No real explanation."
The sudden ringing of a phone breaks the moment. Her head snaps toward the sound—coming from my pocket, not the supposedly non-functional landline.
"I thought you said there was no service," she says, her voice steady but accusatory.
I pull out my phone, showing her the screen—Patrick calling, right on schedule. "Satellite phone," I explain smoothly. "For emergencies only. The battery life is limited, so I keep it powered off most of the time."
Before she can respond, I answer the call. "Patrick. What's the update?"
I listen for a moment, nodding, my expression carefully controlled. "I see. And the roads?" Another pause. "That's what I expected. Keep me informed if anything changes."
I end the call, turning to Kyra with practiced concern. "I'm afraid the news isn't good. The storm has intensified, as expected. The mountain roads are completely impassable. County emergency services have issued a shelter-in-place advisory for the next 48 hours."
"So Aaron—"
"Won't be joining us anytime soon," I finish for her. "I'm sorry, Kyra. It seems we're on our own for the next couple of days."
She sets her brandy glass down with deliberate care. "May I see the phone? I'd like to try calling Aaron again. He should know I arrived safely."
A reasonable request. One I'd anticipated. "Of course. Though I should warn you, the battery is very limited. Emergency calls only."
I hand her the phone, confident in my preparations. The device has been modified to show full signal but fail when attempting to connect to any number except those I've pre-approved.
She takes it, dials Aaron's number, and waits. After a moment, her brow furrows. "It's not connecting."
"The storm must be interfering with the satellite signal," I say, taking the phone back. "It happens up here sometimes. We can try again in the morning."
She doesn't look convinced, but nods slowly. "I think I'll turn in for the night, if you don't mind. It's been a long day."
"Of course. Sleep well, Kyra." I rise when she does, ever the gentleman. "Breakfast is at eight, but feel free to sleep in if you'd prefer."
She starts toward the stairs, then pauses, turning back to me. "One question before I go."
"Anything."
"That rose pendant that fell out of my bag—it's beautiful workmanship. Is it a family design?" Her tone is casual, but I sense her attention on my reaction.
"It's a personal emblem of mine." I keep my expression open, honest. "The rose has special significance to me."
"I thought I noticed something similar on your hand." Her comment is offered lightly, almost as an afterthought.
"You have a good eye for detail," I say, smiling. "We can discuss it more tomorrow, if you'd like."
She nods, returning the smile though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Tomorrow, then. Goodnight, Victor."
"Goodnight, Kyra. Sweet dreams."
I watch her ascend the stairs, admiring the straight line of her back, the determined set of her shoulders. She knows something isn't right about this situation. She suspects I'm playing a game whose rules she doesn't yet understand.
But by the time she figures it out, she'll already be mine.
Chapter five
Kyra
