Page 54 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
"Yes," he says simply. "I have."
The admission knocks the wind from my lungs. I'd been prepared for lies, for gaslighting, for being made to feel paranoid or irrational. The calm confirmation leaves me momentarily speechless.
"You're not even going to deny it?" I finally manage.
Victor rises from his chair, moving around the desk with fluid grace. "Why would I deny what's true? You're right, Kyra. About all of it."
He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you in my study three years ago. That electric connection between us, the way your breath caught when our fingers touched. I knew then that you were meant to be mine."
"I was with your son," I say, backing away until I hit a bookshelf. "I loved Aaron."
He stalks forward, trapping me between his body and the shelves. "Or did you settle for him? The safe option. The age-appropriate choice that wouldn't make you confront what you really want."
His hand comes up to brush my cheek, and despite everything, I find myself leaning into his touch. "You don't know what I want," I whisper, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears.
"I know you better than you know yourself," Victor says, his voice seems to bypass my brain and speak directly to my body. "I've been studying you for three years, Kyra. I know how your mind works. I know what you need."
"What I need is to leave," I insist, pushing against his chest. He doesn't budge. "This is kidnapping. Manipulation. You orchestrated my breakup with Aaron, my funding crisis—you dismantled my entire life!"
"I saved you," he corrects, capturing my wrists in one strong hand. "From mediocrity. From wasting your brilliance on a boy who could never challenge you. From the crushing weight of all that responsibility you've carried since your parents died."
The mention of my parents sends a jolt through me. "How dare you—"
"You were still in high school," he interrupts softly. "A teenager forced to become an adult overnight. No family to help. No support system. Just Kyra against the world, determined to prove she doesn't need anyone." His free hand traces myjawline, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "But everyone needs someone, beautiful girl. Even brilliant scientists who've spent years pretending to be invulnerable."
Tears prick at my eyes, unwelcome and betraying. "Stop it."
"Stop what? Telling the truth?" His thumb brushes my lower lip, the gentle touch at odds with his unyielding grip on my wrists. "I thought you wanted honesty between us. Isn't that why you're here, confronting me?"
"I want freedom," I say, hating how my voice trembles. "I want my life back."
Victor laughs, the sound low and somehow intimate. "What life, Kyra? The one where you work yourself to exhaustion for recognition that never comes? Where you come home to an empty apartment and pretend you're not desperately lonely? Where you settle for lukewarm affection from a boy who will never understand what drives you?"
Each word lands like a precision strike, targeting vulnerabilities I've never admitted to anyone. The worst part is that he's right. My life before this cabin was a careful construction of achievement and denial—academic success masking personal emptiness, the relationship with Aaron a shield against genuine intimacy.
"You can't keep me here forever," I say, changing tactics. "People will look for me."
Victor releases my wrists, stepping back just enough to give me breathing room. "Your department thinks you're taking personal leave after your funding crisis. Your landlord believes you've moved out early. Your few friends assume you're with Aaron for the holidays. No one is looking for you, Kyra. No one even knows you're missing."
The calculated thoroughness of his planning sends ice through my veins. "You really have thought of everything."
"I leave nothing to chance." He moves to the small bar in the corner of his study, pouring amber liquid into two crystal glasses. "Especially when it comes to something I want as badly as I want you."
He offers me one of the glasses. I hesitate, then take it, needing something to do with my trembling hands. "And what happens now? You keep me prisoner in your mountain cabin until I develop Stockholm syndrome?"
If I haven’t already.
Victor's lips quirk in amusement. "This isn't imprisonment, Kyra. It's an opportunity." He gestures around us. "Look at what I'm offering you. Resources for your research that universities can only dream of. Freedom from financial worry. A partner who truly sees you—not just the carefully constructed facade you present to the world, but all of you. The brilliance and the vulnerability. The strength and the need."
He steps closer again, his eyes intent on mine. "I can give you everything you've ever wanted. Not just materially, but emotionally. Intellectually."
"In exchange for what?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"You." His gaze intensifies. "Your mind. Your body. Your surrender."
The word sends a shiver through me—surrender. The very thing I've been fighting against my entire life. After my parents died, I swore I'd never be vulnerable again, never depend on anyone. I built walls, created a life of complete self-sufficiency.
And now Victor Strickland is asking me to tear it all down.
