Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“I’m so sorry, Blake, I have a lot of loose ends to wrap up after last night, but I’ll come back as soon as I can. We will have the best Christmas ever.”
Thoughts scatter and jingle all over my skull. Has he planned this? Was he working with Sexy Santa before betraying him?
“No! Wait, you can’t just leave me here,” I beg, grabbing the bars. I cannot be alone again between those hard, cold walls and with no access to natural light. I just can’t!
But Nico shakes his head and a strand of hair slips out of his short ponytail. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I have a long night ahead. I need to work out if Tooley had accomplices and who ordered your kidnapping in the first place.”
I stare at him as my heart attempts to win a short-distance run in the Olympics. “‘Ordered’? What do you mean ordered?” I choke out, staring at him pleadingly. “You can’t just leave me with this!”
He waves me off but takes the big scissors with him. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got you. You can’t be any safer than here. No one knows this place exists.” He winks at me and walks off with such an infuriatingly sexy swagger I’m left raging in my cage.
How? How am I in this situation?
And did he just call me sweetie?
Chapter 4
Nico
From what I’ve researched about Blake, he’s ridiculously rich, his only surviving relative is his brother, and he’s been homeschooled. No wonder I wasn’t able to find out that it’s him who is Cryptic Boy Wonder, since there is no tie to his real identity.
It’s still very early, before the midday and afternoon rush hour, and there’s just a single pair of customers at the store. They’re torn between two Christmas Village collections, and since gathering all the elements is going to take them several years, it’s not a decision to be rushed. I remind them that I’m here to help and walk off to replenish the impulse buys on shelves closest to the counter. But as I stack small, imported gingerbread men encased in colorful foil, my gaze wanders to the collection of fancy gifts that so often gets emptied just before Christmas day, when forgetful people remember to buy presents for more or less distant relatives.
One of the snow globes showcased in the cabinet depicts Santa’s elves frolicking in the snow, and one of them, young, handsome, and rosy-cheeked, brings to mind my new acquaintance. He’s as trapped under the glass as Blake is in my basement.
“You’ve been staring at that snow globe for half an hour. Everything okay?” Owen, my employee, asks.
It pulls me out of my thoughts about Blake and his tight green shorts.
“What can I say? I’m partial to a cute elf twink,” I joke, even though I’ve got serious matters on my mind. A part of me would love to keep Blake forever, create a nice little apartment for him down there, so that we can live in our own bubble where Christmas lasts all year long. We could make toys and decorations together, watch holiday movies, and have special ‘Christmas’ days once a month, then restart the countdown and do it all over again.
I know it’s a little Groundhog’s Day, but who wouldn’t enjoy some seasonal magic?
“You seem awfully interested in this elf today. Does he remind you of someone?” Owen flashes me a bright smile. He’s been like this since he started seeing a boy from his community college last year, and while I appreciate his concern, at times I almost miss the disaster gay he used to be before Adam tamed him.
But hey, I’ve seen this guy go through the highs and lows of his life, and he’s like family to me. As entertaining as his past self was, he seems much happier now. Could that be me by next Christmas?
“There is this guy…” I sigh, because deep down, I know my situationship with Blake is fucked up. I’m losing my mind a little already, but it’s partially because he’s seen the real me, and I’ve never had that with a guy. Even Owen, who used to live in my spare room, and who used to spend every holiday with me before Adam’s family pretty much adopted him, doesn’t know the true me. As long as I don’t let Blake go, I can imagine that he wouldn’t go to the cops, and that he likes me.
But my reasons not to release him aren’t entirely selfish. I found out from his abductor’s phone that someone wants Blake gone, but when I tried calling the bastard’s number, the line was dead. Danger is still somewhere out there, and freeing Blake would be like letting a prized turkey roam freely in a forest filled with foxes.
Owen’s brown eyes dart toward the couple who can’t decide between the 1950s Christmas Village and the 1890s Christmas Village, but he then rests his elbows on the counter and leans on it so hard I can swear his feet left the floor. He’s grinning at me as if he’s Krampus’s little helper. “Do I know him?”