Page 20 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
"Then I'll walk."
"Fifty miles in three feet of snow? You'd freeze to death within hours." He steps closer, and despite myself, I feel the pull of his presence. "I understand your confusion, your fear. But I promise you, Kyra, you're exactly where you need to be right now."
"And where is that?"
"With someone who truly sees you. Values you. Appreciates everything you are and everything you could become."
His words send a thrill through me, because they speak to exactly what I've been missing with Aaron. Recognition. Appreciation. Understanding.
"I'm going back to bed," I say, because I don't trust myself to continue this conversation.
"Of course." He steps aside to let me pass. "Sleep well, Kyra."
I move past him, aware of his proximity, the scent of his cologne, the heat from his body. At the bottom of the stairs, I pause.
"The cameras in my room. Will you turn them off?"
"If that would make you more comfortable."
"It would."
"Then consider it done."
I don't believe him, but I nod and continue upstairs, feeling his eyes on me.
Back in my room, I close the door and lean against it, my heart hammering. I need to think rationally, scientifically. Understand what's happening based on observable facts, not just emotions.
Fact one: Victor has created an elaborate security system that keeps me isolated here. Fact two: The timing of Aaron's breakup, my apartment evacuation, and this invitation is too perfectly synchronized to be coincidental. Fact three: Despite the control, Victor has not threatened me in any way. Fact four: My attraction to him is clouding my judgment.
I scan the room, locating the tiny camera lens embedded in the decorative molding above the bed. With deliberate movements, I take a small hand towel from the bathroom and drape it over the molding, covering the lens completely.
If Victor objects to this small act of defiance, I'll know exactly how much "comfort" he's willing to grant me.
Next, I look for anything I might need. My phone can still take photos and notes, even without service. I take out the small notepad and pen from my purse and begin making notes in the shorthand system I developed for my research—a combination of scientific abbreviations and personal codes that would look like nonsense to anyone else. I document everything I've observed, every interaction with Victor, every strange coincidence that led me here.
Not because I fear for my safety, but because the scientist in me needs to organize these thoughts, to understand what's happening between us. To make sense of why, despite everything, I'm drawn to him in ways I never was to Aaron.
I close the notepad and return it to my purse, then move to the window, staring out at the endless snow. In the reflection of the glass, I can see myself—pale, conflicted, and despite everything, intrigued by the man who has gone to such lengths to bring me here.
"What do you want from me, Victor?" I whisper to the empty room, knowing the cameras might still be recording audio even if I've blocked the visual.
The answer comes in the form of a soft electronic chime from my phone. Impossible—there's no service.
Yet when I check the screen, there's a text message from an unknown number:
Everything you've been searching for, even if you don't realize it yet. I noticed you covered the camera. You don't need to. I only watch to keep you safe. Sleep well, Kyra. Tomorrow we begin to understand each other better.
I stare at the message He's watching, responding to my actions in real time. The intimacy of it creates a strange, electric anticipation.
I shut off the phone and slide it back into my pocket. Then I return to bed, pulling the covers up despite the warmth of the room.
Sleep will likely elude me for the rest of the night, but I need to be sharp tomorrow. Because one thing is clear: Victor Strickland has been planning this for a very long time, and whatever he intends to begin tomorrow has been years in the making.
I close my eyes, trying to quiet my racing thoughts.
Despite everything—the surveillance, the isolation, the control—part of me is curious to discover what happens next. Thescientist in me wants to understand the complexity of his interest. The woman in me wants to know what it feels like to be wanted so intensely that someone would create this elaborate scenario just to have me alone with him.
Both parts know I should be concerned. Instead, I find myself wondering what tomorrow will bring, and how it might feel to finally acknowledge the attraction that's been building between us since that first moment in his study three years ago.
