Son of Krampus: Holidays of Love, #4

By Ellen Mint

He only comes when you're naughty.

As the daughter of Saint Nicholas, Nadire's life is Christmas 24/7. She's never had time to fit anyone in her life, or a reason to look twice at mortals. That's all upended when she meets a tall, dark-haired stranger who sends her heart racing. Unbeknownst to her, there's a secret Emeric Hellswarth is hiding and that one night stand will come to haunt her every thought. How can she plan Christmas when her heart keeps bouncing between both hating and begging for the Son of the Krampus?

 

Son of Krampus is a story of family, of the stress heaped upon those fighting to keep it together, of the fear of venturing out to form your own. It's a sexy enemies-to-lovers as Nadire and Emeric come to realize they share more in common than anyone else could understand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ellen Mint
• Release date: Dec 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9798201864552

Ellen Mint

Ellen Mint adores the adorkable heroes who charm with their shy smiles and heroines that pack a punch. She recently won the Top Ten Handmaid's Challenge on Wattpad where hers was chosen by Margaret Atwood. Her books, Undercover Siren and Fever are available at Amazon. Married, she lives in Nebraska with her dog named after Granny Weatherwax. Her hobbies include gaming, painting, and halloween prop making. The basement is full of skeletons because they ran out of room in the closets.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

PICTURE THE NORTH Pole

Ice crystals sheered by the winds plastered against exposed cheeks and foreheads while a whisper of a scent lingered on the air. It smelled of a chill colder than the depths of the devil’s heart. Both burning and freezing the nose, it scraped against the skin as if trying to exfoliate with every breath. And the light. Radiating against the pristine drifts and hills, a white brighter than the birth of a star encircled out to the very horizon as if there was naught but snow to cover the entire world.

Now sniff, the cheery voice commanded. Nadire, her eyes dutifully closed, took in a deep whiff. Cloying peppermint stung her tastebuds leaving an oil slick from the scent upon her tongue. It was not reminiscent of the North Pole as she was asked to imagine. There was little by way of mint where nothing but ice grew.

Makes you think of a crisp winter day, doesn’t it? The clerk smiled bright and bobbed her flimsy, felt Santa hat. Festive.

Putting on an indeterminate smile, Nadire nodded to the woman running a Room Spray booth. Small perfume spritzer bottles decorated with home-printed labels covered the table. To distract from trying to cough out the last of the peppermint she took to her sinuses, Nadire inspected the label of one named Roasting Chestnuts.

All around her roared Christmas in every permutation imaginable. Twenty-foot-tall inflatables of the fat man in the red suit danced around a plastic pine tree. Twinkling lights of red and green assaulted the eyes from so many corners, Nadire feared she could smell the heat wafting off them. And, after day two of the convention, enough decor had fallen from booth walls and trees that roaming tumbleweeds of tinsel rampaged about the halls.

A larger woman wearing a sweater with a blazing fireplace on the center nudged in between Nadire and the spritzer woman. She dangled her requisite plastic bag between the two, which was already bulging with various pamphlets and business cards. The sweater seemed a bit much for the day. While there was a chill in the air, it wasn’t due to Jack Frost but the A/C blaring a freon breeze through the convention hall in Saint Louis for the Fifteenth Annual Santa Con.

Ah, there you are…! a harried voice called from somewhere beside the Deep Fried Christmas Tree stand. Nadire brushed a speck of lint from the cuff of her suit jacket, watching what was probably someone’s fake beard fur fly away.

Please, a female voice panted as if she’d been running the length of the building while coming to a stop before Nadire, forgive me. I just got word of your arrival.

The woman wasn’t dressed in the tackiest outfit Christmas kitsch could offer, though she did put on a scarlet blouse to keep in the spirit. She clutched a sheaf of papers to her chest as if she needed a shield to survive her walk and eyed up Nadire.

It’s no problem, Ms…? Nadire smiled, extending her hand to the woman.

Uh, Johnson, Penny. No, Penelope. Penny’s fine, I mean. Sorry. We really weren’t expecting you this year, the poor woman babbled as if she’d been informed a movie star walked through the door and it was her job to make them happy.

Wanting to put her at ease, Nadire slipped away from the lingering scent of every aromatherapy oil in Christendom. It’s all on me, she assured poor Penny. My schedule unexpectedly changed and I had the opportunity to visit personally.

Usually by June, Nadire would send one of her assistants to work the rounds at the cons but this year was proving to be lighter than typical. A fact that she should be savoring with a deck chair and a cocktail by a beach instead of working. But someone had to keep abreast of the changing tides of the holiday.

Ms. Myra, Penny pleaded, you’re too kind. We should have, we intended to have an official greeter for when you arrived but… She waved her hands around the ever-increasing din of people shuffling through the festive offerings.

Nadire chuckled, glad that the growing capacity could serve as an excuse for her faux pas of failing to use the front door. They knew her as Nadire Myra, COO of purchasing for Myra Enterprises, which was itself a subsidiary of Klaus Holdings. It made her important to those that wanted to sell their goods while obscuring who she really worked for. Though, with her chestnut skin and roasting fire eyes instead of the assumed peach and blue, it stopped surprising Nadire centuries back when no one could trace her lineage. That damn Coke ad certainly cemented it for the family.

I imagine you have the list of most important vendors, Nadire whispered from the side of her lips while nodding at a pair of tourists with Santa head-shaped lollypops adhered to their tongues.

Penny shuffled through the papers which hopefully held the booth numbers and a map. Yes.

Then it is tradition we start with them.

Penny chuckled as if a weight lodged off her chest. The woman fabled to have more money than Croesus was not vengeful at her. After picking a starting point, Ms. Johnson muttered to herself, You Myras are sticklers for tradition. Her eyes flared at the thought of speaking her mind and she glanced up in terror at the poised woman. That wasn’t…it’s not—

With a laugh, Nadire curled her arm through Penny’s and took the lead. She turned the pair towards Fir Real Trees, which was often a sponsor of these events. You are more right than you can ever know.

That glimpse of the truth brought a frown to Penny’s lips, but Nadire shook it away as she said, After the rounds, I’d quite like to try a Christmas tree waffle.

Cinnamon butter’s the best topping. Penny grinned, her momentary concern forgotten.

With a blinding white smile, Nadire gazed across the maze of Christmas. Here I go again.

Why would a child of Saint Nicholas himself attend conventions across the globe devoted to the very holiday he was supposed to embody? Her father certainly found it pointless, often scoffing when Nadire would return exhausted, her luggage seams bursting with red & green themed brochures. Most days, she had a good explanation for her travels, but after six hours on her four-inch heels walking two-point-five miles up and down the length of a convention center she was tempted to side with him.

Penny had managed to corral Nadire in with a trio of businessmen who, in their three-piece suits, looked like if they belonged as well as she did. The men would offer occasional glances her way, but little more. They certainly didn’t think her worthy of their names. She assumed they were all together until one asked the other where he was headquartered. So it was going to be that kind of a day.

Okay, everyone got your badges? Penny rushed to them, her hair growing more frazzled by the day. Nadire’s fingers twitched to present her with a jar of coconut oil to help, but this wasn’t the place. The want faded on the A/C wind as Ms. Johnson guided the VIPs through a set of curtained doors into a ballroom.

It was elegantly adorned, which surprised Nadire. Most places were more clearance Christmas decor and blaring public domain carols, less soft candles and linen tablecloths. Nadire was about to comment on the lack of Jingle Bells when she caught, buried under the harp, the far too familiar refrain. Shrugging off the sigh before Penny caught it, she followed their guide toward a table tucked near an open dance floor. For now, it was empty save a projection of old fashioned Christmas bells dancing over the tiles.

2014, created by the company Holidaze along with a handful of Santa-In-The-Window animations and some rather humorous ghosts. Or was that the update in 2015?

Excuse me.

An elbow bounced against Nadire’s shoulder yanking her away from the retail puzzle and she turned into eyes as crisp and sparkling as frost by early morn. Candlelight fanned their flames against his silvery-blue irises, ensnaring her full attention in a breath. She tried to pull her gaze anywhere else, noticing that he wore the sort of proud but chiseled face one expected to find in Italian marble. The hair was nearly a mane, thick as a bear’s, black as midnight, and tumbling slightly past his ears. But with every attempt Nadire felt her eyes honing right back to his, the flames growing more enticing with each flicker.

Ms. Myra, your table? Penny called, sundering whatever spell fell upon her. 

Scurrying away from the man, guilt etched on her face as if she’d reached into the cookie jar, Nadire pawed at her hair to try and eclipse those haunting eyes. Entirely my fault. Please, excuse me, she mumbled, unable to meet the stranger’s look for fear she could never escape it. 

How he took her less-than-graceful exit she couldn’t tell. She spun her back to him to take in a proper breath. For the lord’s sake, Nadire. She graced the back of her hand to her cheeks only to find them a hotter red than the spotlights. While falling to her chair, she yanked up the glass of ice water and drowned her embarrassment. 

When the water failed to wipe away the burn, she cast her eye over the wine glasses. Alas, no one had been by yet to help her drench her concerns in alcohol. Shaking her head, she conjured up a million excuses. It was a long day. She was still suffering jet lag. She hadn’t been intimate in… They didn’t really help, but she convinced herself they did while Nadire steepled her fingers and tried to wedge into the gentlemen’s conversation.

One was on his phone, as he had been since Penny pulled him into the group. The other two were debating the finds of the day.

That price point though. The man in a dark blue jacket whistled through his teeth. It ain’t gonna get the tubby Tammys through the door.

Still, pretty amazing what they can come up with. Animation in the customer’s hands. I can see it blowing up for the Walmart crowd, the other man, slightly older and trying to hide his bald patch, commented.

Not at that price. They’d have to cut out beer or diapers.

Nadire sidled closer, accidentally rattling her knife with her elbow. They’ve had that technology for a few years now. That one we saw was a copycat of the original creator, a company called…

Both men’s eyes narrowed to slits upon her daring to tread upon their important business. Uh-huh, blue suit snorted.

Nadire swallowed down her snarl with the knowledge that the original company was cheaper and how great of profits they just lost by not listening to her. Not that it mattered much to her. The retail side wasn’t of concern to Klaus Holdings. At least not in the way it was to everyone else here.

Yeah, yeah. Phone man finally yanked it down from his ear and spoke to the table. Fuck, man. Boss has me heading to that toy expo in Cincinnati next week. Who the shit wants to go to Cincinnati?

Pitying looks crossed the table from the other two who were both trying to snag a waitress to help get them plastered. Men of their ilk usually attended these types of conventions for two reasons. At least they didn’t seem to expect Nadire to assist with either option. The phone man continued mourning into his empty soup bowl. "Thinks the next it toy will be there. I tell him to just buy up whatever stupid-ass doll that talks and walks. That’s all they ever are."

Imagine the fortune you could rake in if you knew before all the hype built up. Guaranteed raise. Shit, maybe even a company car.

I’ve got no damn clue what it is this year. Blue suit sighed in agony as if he too dreamed the impossible dream.

Nadire tapped her chin, her eyes closed as she spoke, It’s a Goop-Glon, a hollowed-out plastic shell that’s human-shaped and comes with various hued polymers. The child can fill the shell with their choice to create a personalized figure to play with. There’s also an app to animate it. She smiled at the three men, but they blinked slowly as if a dog had barked at them.

Phone man buffed up his greying hair and groaned. They got focus groups involved. Get all the kids and their parents to pick. Shit like that. Won’t tell us though, only the toy companies.

A frown percolated on Nadire’s brow, dragging her hand-plucked eyebrows deeper into the trenches. They could question her knowledge on Christmas decor and paraphernalia, but if there was one truth in this world the Myra family knew inside and out, it was childhood wants. Her clipped nails bounded against the table, summoning the three men to stare daggers at the woman who dared to sit near them.

The phone man gave her a snarl, his face plastered with a What? He spun back to speak to the blue suit while showing his back to the stewing woman. It was only the old man who snickered to himself.

In a voice that reeked of patronizing, he said, You know, dear, you’d be a lot nicer if you…

Mercifully for the man about to tell a strange woman to smile, an airhorn replaced the elegant piano music. Every head in the ballroom spun to watch Penny step into the middle of the dance floor. She looked more flushed than usual, her fingers pawing at the microphone.

Hello. Thank you. I want to once again welcome you all to the Fifteenth Annual Santa Convention. A round of applause please for the kind people at Jupiter’s Hotels for hosting us. She tucked the mike into her armpit and made a show of bringing her hands together. A smattering of others joined in, no one ready to hurl accolades around before they had a chance to sample the food.

The rotating bell projection warped across Penny’s face, causing her to wince from the light. In doing so, she bounced the mike against her teeth sending ear-screeching feedback through the speakers. 

Forget the coconut oil, that woman needed a ten-day vacation to someplace without wifi. And a warm cabana boy.

For your entertainment this evening, we have DJ Klaus. Penny pointed towards the typical twenty-something man in baggy layers of t-shirts, pseudo-gold jewelry, and sunglasses. Though, he did get into the spirit by putting tiny antlers on his baseball cap. The DJ clicked his fingers at the attention and spun a few bars of Joy To The World overlaid against O Fortuna. Nadire had certainly heard worse.

She chuckled at the old memory of a snowed-in village trying to impress the royalty in their midst. With bells knotted to their ankles and wrists, the entire contingent of aging men tried to hop and dance to the tune of Silent Night. It was the most fascinating display of bouncing stomachs, off-key bell jingling, and old knees popping she’d ever seen. Her father demanded they visit every year on the eighth after that first show.

From the memory of Christmas pains past, Nadire settled back in her chair. She eyed up the menu left at her place setting. A winter pear and radish salad to start, roast duck on a yam puree for the main, and a finish with a mulled wine chocolate torte. Much better than the rash of tacos and kebobs from food stands she’d been relying upon as of late. She could suffer some horrible puns and ear-scratching music for that.

Penny wasn’t finished with the surprises, her eyes gleaming as she commanded the ballroom. May I present to you…

Her hand waved toward what looked to be the kitchen entrance. All heads swiveled to follow, curiosity rising. As the doors blew open, five men in long red suits stepped forward.

The All Santa Dance Troupe, Penny declared, clapping madly and stepping aside to let the men with white, polyester fur strapped to their wrists and ankles pivot onto the dance floor. They’d even stuffed a pillow in for their gut and painted red circles on their cheeks.

As each man got into place, gloved hands slotted behind scarlet backs, they turned to Penny and winked. At that moment, all of the tops of their Santa caps flipped from one side to the other. The audience laughed at the single jingle, and the men flailed the tips of their Santa caps back and forth while mugging for attention.

Nope.

Nadire hurled her napkin off her lap and rose to her feet. She could handle the inflated, nearly featureless plastic sheeting of Santa Claus. The signs hand-painted on barn wood declaring Santa’s Rules To Being Naughty & Nice. Even the groan-worthy wine puns associated with every activity humanity ever invented. But this…

Shuddering, she dashed away as the men began to spin around and twerk while the refrains of that Christmas classic I Like Big Butts accompanied them. No one saw the door slam shut in her wake.

CHAPTER TWO

IN SOME OTHER slice of history, smoke would have poured from the door as Nadire eased her way into the bar. Instead of rich tobacco seeping from the tables and floor, only a vague scent of citrus and splashed alcohol filled the air. Red light dripped from sconces encircling naked bulbs. Not the harsh red/pink that charred retinas and represented nearly all aspects of the holiday. This red moonlighted as burgundy. It preferred the welcoming embrace of oranges and yellows while slumbering atop a pile of loosened foliage. It was above consorting with a quintet of twerking Santas.

Shaking off the rotten taste in her mouth that wasn’t stale tobacco, Nadire eased around the half-filled tables of other weary travelers who didn’t want to while away their hours in front of the television. Most seemed to seclude themselves with the screen in their hands instead, though the glass provided backup. As she approached the bar, trying to drum up what could wash away the pain in her soul, a woman flung herself in the way.

Rearing back, the anger from such rudeness evaporated at the tears gushing from the woman’s eyes. Please, she pleaded, her hands clasped as if she was begging God himself for salvation instead of a bartender. It’s… She sniffled, trying to speak through the mountain of grief. It’s this big.

She extended her thumb and forefinger about three inches apart, the pickled skin of her hands wan as sun-stained linen. Nadire winced watching the bartender sigh. I keep telling you, I haven’t seen it.

But it has to be here! the older woman pleaded, the bags of life under her eyes bulging from her pain. I…I couldn’t have left it anywhere else. Please!

Slipping her hand into her pocket, Nadire stepped closer to the distraught woman. Is this… tugging her hand out, she twisted around her palm to reveal a ragged business card, what you were looking for?

Oh, God! My God, yes, yes! The elderly woman snatched up the simple piece of white card stock, her trembling fingers continually flipping it over to the back to inspect its authenticity. There’s no way…thank you. Thank you so much. How can I…? She began to reach into her threadbare purse, but Nadire stopped her.

Don’t worry about it. I spotted it on the floor on my entrance and was about to turn it in. You saved me a trip. She smiled assuringly at the woman who was nearing hysterics in the opposite direction of pain.

The old woman’s eyes burned into the card as if she both had to memorize what was on the back and she could never forget. Clutching it tight to her heart, she smiled forlornly. Thank you. You’re…you’re a kind soul.

Nadire snorted, her cheeks burning at the compliment pouring from a stranger. It wasn’t as if she saved a life, simply answered a want with barely a flick of her wrist. Think nothing of it, madam.

With the coveted keepsake in her hands, the old woman bustled towards the exit. Though, she did take the time to call her husband and tell him she found what she was looking for. Nadire watched the woman until she vanished out the door, her own heart throbbing from the pain.

Thank God for that, the bartender huffed. Ol’ bat’s been in here the past week bugging everyone about somethin’ she lost and it’s just a plain old business card?

A plain old business card to those who didn’t see the message on the back. The last one from her son before he could write no more.

Here. The bartender shook away her maudlin thoughts. As thanks for getting rid of her, how’s about one on the house?

Family churned through Nadire’s veins, bonds born in blood, sundered in disagreement and pain, only to be restitched together time and time again. The taste of anise tingled on her tongue and in a voice that crackled like soot tumbling down a chimney, she said, Rakı.

Uh. The bartender blinked in confusion. I’m afraid we don’t have that. He didn’t finish with whatever that is but Nadire could read it on his lips. Foolish, this was as far from the beginning as she could get.

I’ll take whatever you’ve got on tap, she said, sliding onto the chair across from him. The bartender smiled at that, already fishing out a glass when Nadire’s hand shot across the bar to grab his arm. As long as it’s not peppermint, thundered from her chest.

The man winked at that. Got ya, Miss. While her glass filled with hopefully not some other Christmas flavored beer, the bartender spoke. I take it you’re as sick of the Santa crowd as the rest of us.

They could escape it. Some chose not to, dunking their whole head into the pool of Christmas cheer all year long. But for most everyone else on the planet they had a time to be merry and a time to be normal. Nadire wasn’t so fortunate.

When the glass hit the bar, it drew Nadire from her thoughts. While she took a testing sip, he wiped his hands on a towel upon his hip. Nadire was about to return for another taste when she felt his curious eyes upon her.

It’s light and floral. Not a damn trace of peppermint. Thank you. She raised the glass an inch off the bar at him in a toast, then resumed what she came to do—drink.

The friendly bartender hovered around her, or tried to at least. More patrons began showing up demanding his attention, allowing Nadire to drown her sorrows in the milk of human kindness. And what precisely did she have to be sorrowful about? To the world, she was a wealthy woman in her early thirties who could pretend to be late twenties with the right makeup routine. She literally traveled all across the globe with little to no hassle, often had people lavishly thanking her. All she had to do was be happy with what was given her. Happy with the path gifted to them all.

This is why I don’t drink alone, Nadire muttered under her breath. She hated sounding maudlin even if the circumstances called for it.

Excuse me…

The morose scales tumbled from her eyes and she sat bolt upright on the stool. Swiveling around, those crystal snowflake eyes from the dining hall burned into hers. Even with another barstool between them, the heat of the man’s body called out to hers. He tapped his fingers against the bar in the old shave and a haircut rhythm while staring her up and down.

What a day for her to wear business casual that left everything to the imagination.

You look like a woman who intends to devour whoever talks to her next, he said, his striking face stern with certainty.

Nadire couldn’t argue with his assessment even as she tried to dig out the furrow at the top of her brow. You’re probably right. She sighed focusing on her beer. Devouring men was easier than talking to them.

Hm. The man snorted, no doubt ending the conversation. Nadire’s sight bored into the bubbles climbing up her glass. A blur at the periphery caused her to turn her head. Despite the warnings he made, the stranger leaned his long leg over the top of the stool and sat down beside her.

But you… She gasped, the words stolen from her tongue. You said that…

He shrugged a single taut shoulder. What is life without a little risk? The man bore a germanic accent, though it was light and often bobbing in and out with his o’s. Instead of either the tacky sweaters of the tourists or the important suits of the buyers, he was dressed in a simple button-up with the top two undone. The rich cinnamon color caused his eyes to sparkle brighter than the top of any tree.

Realizing she was once again staring, Nadire threw out, Devouring is more than a small risk, I’d say.

Depends upon who’s doing it. For the right woman, some men would happily be eaten whole.

Sweet lord! She pawed at her cheek to try and disguise both the blush and the smile cracking her lipstick. He sat silently in place, only the edge of his eyes cast over the man-devourer while Nadire felt herself slowly melting into the stool. With no recourse, she relied upon her only chaperone and returned to the beer.

Ah, a pint. The man tried to catch the bartender’s eye, but his foreign request only caused the drink slinger to frown. The bar was filling fast, one of those bachelorette parties complete with penis themed hats rolling in. All of the cosmo requests were keeping the bartender busy, a vast swathe of cotton candy perfumes practically sizzling off the women.

Nadire focused on her drink, assuming the already tipsy and partying women would catch the ice-blue eye of the stranger and vice versa. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the occasional gentleman caller. Some liked to press their luck when she worked the circuit, their cologne unable to cover over the stench of desperation. But she wasn’t exactly the settling down type either. Relationships required time and devotion. Nadire couldn’t even keep a poinsettia alive.

Certain in her future of rummaging through the minibar while scrolling before sleep, Nadire dropped her glass and turned straight into crystal eyes. How big of a bite would you take if I asked you your name? he asked, his voice plummeting to the depths of an unassailable baritone. It seemed as if only she could hear him, the pink penis brigade all squealing to themselves. Did they not even glance over at this perfect specimen seated beside them?

Laughing to try and cover her shock, Nadire shrugged a single shoulder. Only a little nibble. The man who’d been cold as morning’s frost blushed, his plush bottom lip slipping open as he snorted from her answer. She knew what she’d want to nibble on first.

Nadire, she spoke, trying to shake away the thought. This was a business trip. She should be focusing on candy canes and bells of holly, not… God’s nails, it’d been too long since she’d spoken to a man she didn’t work with.

Nadire? he repeated, his accent rolling her name around like bodies in satin sheets. A rather mysterious name.

Most probably expected her to be named Candy, or Holly, or Angel. Most in imagining the life of Saint Nick never wondered if he’d prefer to keep his own traditions, and not name the rarely mentioned children after aspects of the holiday born centuries past his birth. She winced at the reminder of her mountain of baggage when he slid an arm over the back of her stool.

The tips of his mahogany hair tickled her cheek and he whispered beside her ear, It fits you perfectly.

He slipped back to his chair as if nothing happened, but Nadire could still feel the tickle across her skin from his hair. It vibrated out from that simple touch, alighting her nerves as she graced her palm to her cheek.

You haven’t told me your name, she gulped. It seems only fair after all.

But I haven’t yet paid the price for yours. The man lifted his hand out to her, exposing forearm muscles that tightened to marble perfection. A little nibble, you said?

Ah. Nadire gazed down at the masculine hand, his large fingers hanging helplessly in the air. The image of her teeth grazing over the tender skin flashed through her mind and she blinked in shock at her imagination. Perhaps later.

A fair promise. The man smiled, letting his hand drop to the bar just as his beer arrived. After thanking the grumbling bartender, he finally told her, I am Emeric.

Not what I would have expected, Nadire responded, mentally tumbling the name around as if she could search its depths on her own. Sadly, that particular skill didn’t pass to her.

Oh?

Emeric is a rather stuffy name, she said without thought, then blanched at demeaning the handsome stranger.

But he took it all with a laugh and savored a draught before turning to her. Pompous?

No, more for a man who prefers books and libraries to… Nadire waved her hand over the man’s strapping chest. It wasn’t at that barrel stage yet, but taut and honed so the shoulders strained against the off the rack shirt. Man like him deserved to have his shirts tailored to caress every muscle on his body.

Emeric glanced down at his chest as if there were a spot of mustard upon the breast pocket. What? You think me the sport type?

If rugby and gymnastics had a flexible, muscle-bound baby. Which was not an answer she could ever voice. Emeric’s voice dropped, his ice-blue gaze biting into hers. Well, I happen to be quite sporting. And I will pick up a book or two when the mood strikes.

By the Holy Mother, Nadire’d never been this fascinated in her life. Men were muddled creatures who slipped in and out of life like mayflies. Some could occasionally catch her attention when she wasn’t focused on important matters, but this man was like a crystal puzzle box. She ached to run her fingers all over the seams and figure out how it worked. And he was here, at some random Santa Claus convention halfway around the world from where he came from.

What are you doing here? slipped past her tongue, her voice dreamy as she tried to conjure up his reasons, but Emeric slid back in thought. His eyes darkened and she must have made a misstep. Damn it. 

At this bar? Trying to excavate the taste of cinnamon and peppermint from my palate. Emeric did so by drowning the last of his drink.

Nadire snorted at the honesty reflected in her own actions. The laugh drew his now shrouded eyes across her and she tapped her chest. As if attending confession she told him, Me as well.

"So you’re not one of those Kris Kringle worshipping arschkriechers." He jerked his chin toward the door where no doubt a troop of dancing Christmas trees was on its way to entertain the masses. Had it always been this bad? She couldn’t remember so much tacky pomp in previous years, but after a time they all blended together.

Shaking her head, Nadire rummaged a hand through her hair to try and comb out the knots. No. This is a job. Family job, but a job. Okay, so she couldn’t exactly turn it off, but it wasn’t a full lie.

Excuse my French, but thank the fuck for that, Emeric said with a chuckle, his eyes practically shredding the clothes from her body. Anyone else, Nadire would have excused herself, walked away, and left him to consume someone else’s attention. 

She wasn’t a one-night stand, pick someone up in a bar person. She couldn’t afford to be. But God, he was a true gift, packaged in crimson and ready for opening. To run her fingers through that glorious mane, scrape her nails across his sculpted back, give that nibble she promised and more on his thighs.

What was she thinking? No. It was one man out of billions. So many on the planet were why her work never ceased. Why she had to be on for the company at all times. Why someone had to piece all of this slap-dash mess together. 

Her heart set, Nadire turned to focus on the wall ahead of her instead of the ensorcelling man beside her. No doubt he’d find someone else to play with. Hard to imagine any woman turning him down. 

She was about to slide her empty glass back and head to her room when her purse trembled on the bar. Emeric’s gaze glanced to it as if he feared she might have hidden a small animal inside. When Nadire fished out her phone he laughed and returned to drinking.

The Tahiti beach image faded to reveal a text from her father. Once again he was asking where she was, even though she gave him her schedule. Reprimanding her for not being there to assist, and asking where the damn lists were which only he had access to. 

Nadire must have been glaring murder at her screen as Emeric whispered, Problems?

His hand cupped against hers, barely even brushing the skin, but every nerve in her body leapt to attention. Heat dashed up her arm, the flush fast to follow as she stared from her duty into those sinful eyes. 

Nope, not a one. Nadire smiled while hiding away her phone. She noticed that Emeric didn’t drop his hand. As her eyes wandered lower to watch the thrum of his fingers, he blanched and looked about to remove it, when she entwined her fingers with his. 

Are you married? Nadire asked fast.

The man flexed the top of his nose in confusion. No.

Engaged? Living with someone? Dating? Seeing a few? Exclusive in any way? she threw out fast, trying to cover all her bases. He could lie, but there was no chance she wouldn’t ask first.

Emeric laughed at the thorough line of questioning. No to all of those.

Then… Nadire leaned closer, the edge of her tongue wetting her lips. Emeric’s diamond gaze darted down to them, his own mouth responding in kind. Do you want to get out of here? she whispered.

The stranger in the bar smirked, a ten already fished from his wallet for the bar. I believe you promised me a nibble.

"And I never go back on