Chapter Ten

Alaric

Ispend all goddamn day looking into Cory Rhett, searching for every dirty secret he has. It turns out...the man doesn't have many. For a politician, he's infuriatingly above board.

His wife died in childbirth. He married his housekeeper, December's mom, over a dozen years ago. She died in a car accident three years later. He was a prosecutor before he went into politics, one notoriously tough on crime.

It seems the only thing the asshole treats with no regard is his stepdaughter. And fuck him very much for that. I still want to smash my fist into his face for it, but my initial blaze of fury has turned into a smoldering rage.

He won't hurt her again. I'll be damned before I allow that to happen. Even if she never forgives me for the insult she thinks I paid her last night, I'll protect her. I'm mad as hell that I wasn't doing it long before now.

She's needed me for the last six years, and I didn't know. I should have. She'll never need me again. I'll be there every damn day, whether she wants me there or not. I don’t think I could stay away if I tried.

It hasn't even been twenty-four hours and I spent half of the day stalking her on the security cameras. She seemed sad. All day, she smiled in all the right places and laughed at all the right times, but her smile faded too quickly. Her laughter died too soon.

She left early.

It's taking all my patience not to say to hell with my plans and drive over to her place. But if I'm going to win her heart by Christmas, I've got shit to do. Like figure out how the fuck to make it snow in Los Angeles.

I drop my head back against my chair, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe I should just kidnap her to my house in Big Bear for the holiday. There's plenty of snow there.

The doorbell rings while I contemplate the merits of my plan.

"What the fuck?" I tip my head forward, glancing at the clock on my desk. It's after ten. Who the fuck is at my door?

December.

Christ, please let it be December.

I jump to my feet, practically jogging through the house to the front door. My damn heart catches in my throat when I see my angel through the frosted glass.

I practically rip the fucking door off the hinges trying to open it.

"December?"

Something is wrong. She's pale and shaking, the knee of her leggings torn.

Her big blue eyes meet mine, welling with tears. My heart cracks as she chokes on my name.

"H-hold me, p-p-please," she whispers.

As if she even needs to ask.

I scoop her into my arms without a word, dragging her up against my chest. She burrows into me, clinging to my shirt like she's never going to let me go. Her hands are like ice even though it's not cold out.

"Jesus, December." I kick the door closed and carry her straight through the living room and up the stairs to my bedroom. I barely pause long enough to hit the dimmer switch on the lights before stomping to the bed and placing her in it.

She fights me, refusing to let go.

"Easy, angel," I croon. "Easy. I'm just going to start the fireplace and get a first aid kit." I rain gentle kisses across her face, trying to soothe her. She reluctantly loosens her grip, letting me pry her frigid hands from my shirt.

I bundle the slate gray duvet cover around her to warm her up and quickly cross to the fireplace opposite my king-sized bed, lighting it with the touch of a button. The logs inside ignite with a soft whoosh of sound.

I hurry into the bathroom and grab the first aid kit from beneath the sink before returning to her. She's right where I left her, still pale and trembling.

Tossing the kit on the bed, I pick her up before settling against the headboard with her draped over my lap.

"Who hurt you, December?" I ask, my fucking soul screaming for blood. If it was her stepfather, it'll be the last goddamn thing he ever does. They won't even find his body.

"I f-fell," she says, her teeth chattering. "At the w-warehouse."

"The warehouse?"

"You have to call the p-police." She shivers, and a tear leaks from the corner of her eye. "I didn't c-call. I came s-straight here."

"From the warehouse? Why do you need the police, angel? What happened to you?" I ask, running my hands up and down her arms in an attempt to warm her up. Because I can't stop touching her. Because I'm two seconds from losing my mind with worry.

"N-nothing happened t-to me. Oh, Alaric." More tears spill down her porcelain cheeks. "I went to d-double check the warehouse for Sariah. Three m-men broke in while I was t-there. They s-stole s-so much."

Jesus Christ.

I clutch her to me, my heart literally twisting in my chest. Three men robbed the warehouse with her inside. Anything could have happened to her. They could have hurt her. I could have lost her.

Fuck me. I could have lost her tonight.

"Tell me you're okay," I growl, laying her on the bed beside me and then crawling over her as if to protect her with my body. I cup her cheeks in my shaking hands, pressing my forehead to hers. "Tell me they didn't hurt you."

"N-no."

I roar in misery. I'm going to find them. I'm going to destroy them. I won't rest until the bastards are gone.

"I mean, no, they didn't h-hurt me," December says, grasping my shirt. She tangles her hands up in it again, trying to pull me closer. "I hid until they left. They didn't even k-know I was there. I'm not hurt. I'm here. I'm s-safe."

"You are safe," I growl, pressing my mouth to hers. "You'll always be safe with me, angel."

"I'm sorry I ran last night." Her soft sigh of regret pricks at my heart. "I haven't been fair to you."

"I don't give a shit about that." I kiss away her tears. "You thought I was trying to bribe you into my bed. I don't blame you for running."

"That's...not why I ran," she whispers.

I pull back slightly to meet her gaze.

"I'm in love with you." She squeezes her eyes closed, hiding them from me as if that'll keep me from hearing what she just said. "I think I've been partially in love with you since the night we met six years ago."

"Jesus," I breathe, stunned. All this time, she's felt this way?

"When you said that last night, I realized you probably didn't feel the same way." Her lips curve into a sad simile of a smile. "That's why I ran. How could you love someone you don't even know?"

"You think I don't know you."

Her lashes flutter before her eyes open. "How can you when I haven't been honest with you? I'm not Jillian."

I chuckle quietly. "I think we established that already, sweet December. You're using your sister's name."

She nods, admitting it for the first time. "I could tell you that I didn't want to lie to you, but the truth is...no one forced me to do it. I decided for me, Alaric. I...well, I guess I should do the dignified thing and tell you that I lied because I really want to work for your company. And that's true. I do want to work for your company. But that's not why I lied." Her earnest eyes meet mine, rimmed in red but still the clearest blue. "I just wanted to work with you."

"I know."

"You do?" Her brows furrow, and then distress filters through them. "I didn't do it for Cory."

My temper flares at the sound of his name. "I know that too. But he's the reason you had to use Jillian's name, isn't he?"

"I..."

"Don't lie to me, angel. Not now." I nip her throat. "You've been through hell. Don't make me spank the truth from you."

She moans quietly.

"Tell me, sweet December."

"Yes," she whispers.

I press my face to her throat, letting her confession quake through me. I steel myself against the hot rush of rage for her stepfather and fall into the warm wave of gratitude for her.

"Never again," I vow against her skin. "He'll never treat you that way again, December."

"Okay," she says.