Unwrapping Mr. Roth Read online

  “No. Not what I need to know. What I want to know.”

  “You’re assuming those two things are so disparate?”

  “You’re a smooth-talking shyster. I wouldn’t put it past you to omit a few words here and there to keep me moving along exactly as you want me.”

  “I don’t appreciate the implication that I’ve been dishonest with you.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be?”

  He let out a long, ragged exhalation and closed his eyes. “Gillian, think what you must of me, but let us have this conversation elsewhere.”

  “Don’t think I’m going to let you forget.”

  “I have no doubt you’ll needle me until I comply.”

  “I bet you regret hiring me, huh?”

  He opened his eyes again and ground his teeth some more. “I’d prefer that you not be my employee. Let’s leave it at that.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “You need to take me home,” Gillian said on a growl. “My dog has probably left me a lovely puddle to clean up and resorted to gnawing on the sofa foam for a meal.”

  Nick blotted some grease off the top of his slice of New York-style pepperoni pizza and folded the massive, sloppy thing in half lengthwise.

  The girls, huddled on the sofas near them and on the floor around the coffee table went very still, looked to Nick as if for a final ruling.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he said.

  The girls seemed to let out a collective breath.

  “I’ll take you home tomorrow after work.”

  “Ugh! What about my dog?”

  “If it’s that important to you I’ll send Agnes to feed it.”

  “He. Puffer is a he.”

  “Of course he is.” Nick cleaned his fingers using a wad of paper napkins and ferreted his phone out of his pants pocket. He walked to the door, and Gillian followed at his heels onto the snowy breezeway.

  “Shit, it’s cold!” she said when the door clicked shut behind her. “The only people built to survive in this climate are Eskimos, Were-polar bears, and Vikings. I’m obviously none of those things.”

  “If you need to be warmed up, I could think of some ways to do it.”

  “No thanks. I’m not much of a cuddler.”

  “What I have in mind is a little more creative than cuddling, pet.”

  Her cheeks—all four of them—flushed at the mere thought of what sort of creative ways he devised to keep his partner warm. She swallowed hard. “A little more aerobic too, I bet.”

  “Of course.” Into the phone, he said, Agnes, dear, can you please go to Gilly’s and get her dog? Hold onto it—him—until tomorrow evening, will you? Thanks, dear, and, I’m sorry, repeat that last thing you said, please. The wind is quite distracting.” His pale gaze tracked to Gillian’s face and he lifted one pristine eyebrow.

  Oh, hell.

  “No,” he said with curiously singsong enunciation, “she can’t.”

  “I can’t what?” Gillian asked.

  “Possibly,” he continued, ignoring her. “Do see what you can find out. The Ho’s will be here Monday, so I’d like some answers before then. Oh, and can you find out about the…thing? Let me know about that loophole. Call the specialist if you have to. He’ll be expecting your call. He’s researching it now.”

  Nick disconnected and shoved the phone back into his pocket. “I’m going to finish my pizza.”

  “Are you going to answer my questions or are you just going to lock me up in here again tonight for me to play babysitter?” Gillian asked.

  “Yes,” he said, pulling on the knob.

  “Yes to which?”

  “Both.” He paused his door-pulling, and turned to her, handsome face impassive as always. “But if you’re a good little girl, I may be able to arrange a special treat for you,” he whispered. “I have very comfortable accommodations.”

  Her body said yes, but her mouth said, “I already have those back at my apartment.”

  “But I’m not there.” He pushed her curls back from her left ear, bent, and whispered, “Stop fighting it, Gillian. I promise you, giving in to me will be liberating.”

  His breath on her ear tickled and aroused, and made her toes curl in her boots. She sucked in some air and tried to think chaste thoughts.

  That was hard with him being so close and smelling so damned panty-dropping good. “If I do, then what?” she asked after finding what little bit of indignation she could muster up. “You’ll gloat and remind me of it every time I’m in your company? I know your type.”

  “You think you do. You have no idea.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  Of course, with him being Mr. Infuriating, he didn’t answer.

  He pushed the door in and she followed him back to the common area.

  “All right, girls,” he said, “Gilly wants to know what sort of little scheme we have going here, and since she can see you the way you naturally are, I figure we should let her in on the secret—especially since you’ll be cooped up here for a bit longer.”

  The girls cheered.

  “Huh?” Gillian grabbed the back of Nick’s belt and gave him a little pull. “Wait, wait—I didn’t—”

  Nick clapped his hands once loudly and gently extricated her fingers from his pants. “Find something else to grab, pet.”

  “Sounds like a challenge,” she muttered.

  “Challenge me,” he whispered, “and you’ll find you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.”

  “I’m very good. I keep my teeth to myself unless told to do otherwise.”

  He cocked up a dark blond eyebrow. “Unless you can dislocate your jaw on demand, a bit of scraping will be unavoidable.”

  It took her a moment to catch the implication, and when she did, her damned legs nearly gave out beneath her. Fortunately, he had her arm and held her up.

  He escorted her to the sectional sofa, settled himself into the bend of the U, and picked up his neglected pizza slice. “Let’s get started.”

  Gillian stared unblinking at him, brain gone to mush.

  By the time she’d fulfilled her contract, she’d probably be unable to formulate sensible sentences or do simple things like writing her name.

  “You may have noticed we elves seem to come in a variety of sizes,” he said smoothly.

  She nodded after a moment when it seemed he wasn’t going to continue without some feedback from her. “Um. I’ve made that observation, yes.”

  “That’s because like humans, elves and fairies come in different races. We divided off from one race millennia ago, but are generally compatible as far as biology is concerned. The girls here are nymphs of elf descent. Secluding them like this was Mother’s idea. Mother is a nymph.”

  Gillian furrowed her brow. “Nymphs? Aren’t nymphs, like, minor deities? Doesn’t that make you, like, a minor deity, too?”

  “You’re so smart, Gillian, I love you.”

  “If you love, you’ll set me free.”

  “I may love you too much for that,” he said dryly.

  “Sure you do.”

  He set down his pizza and crossed his legs at the knees, giving her a chastising look.

  She gave him one right back.

  “Anyhow, only females take on nymph traits, which is why there are only girls here. I’m just an elf, as our children would be when we get around to making them.”

  Gillian ignored that last bit, suspecting he was baiting her. “Why are you secluding them?”

  “Because our fathers sometimes want to trade us away to bind their alliances and blah, blah, blah,” Kori said with an eye roll.

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re baby factories,” Kori said matter-of-factly.

  Nick pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and ground his teeth.

  Gillian worried that by the end of the night, he’d only have dust left in his mouth.

  “Yes, as my niece so colorfully put it, nymphs are associated with fertility. Elves don�
�t typically have many children, so you can probably see why a man would want a nymph for a wife. My father’s marriage to Mother was arranged as part of a treaty. My mother had five children, which is nearly unheard of for elves.”

  “Five?”

  “Yes. Kori was my only brother’s daughter.”

  “Was?”

  “He’s dead,” Kori said with a shrug.

  “Oh! I’m sorry.” Gillian rested a soothing hand on the girl’s shoulder. “My dad died when I was young, too. My mom not too long after him.” For all intents and purposes, Gillian didn’t have any family anymore. At least, not any she would claim. The family had more or less swirled down the drain after Granny Sue died. She’d been the dependable lynchpin. Gillian was on her own.

  “It’s all right,” Kori said sweetly. “I was too young to remember him, and I still have my mom. Sorry about yours.”

  “Jeez.” Gillian rubbed the corners of her leaking eyes and sighed. I’m so pathetic. “Who’s comforting who here?”

  Kori rested her head on Gillian’s shoulder. “We can all comfort each other. Let’s all hug it out.”

  Gillian snorted, but she had to admit she felt a bit lighter.

  “After my brother’s death,” Nick continued, obviously trying and failing to suppress a smile judging by the twitching of his lips and cheeks, “my sisters wanted to jump the gun, as you might say, to find a match for Kori. Peter had been clear about finding the practice distasteful. A major argument ensued between him and our sisters, and Mother and I essentially had to abduct Kori. Kori’s mother was too terrified to fight me on it.”

  “And the rest of the girls?”

  “Nymph kidnapping is prevalent. Their mothers thought they’d be safer with me.”

  “Why you?”

  “Because he’s the king,” the small blonde named Erica said with a giggle.

  Gillian squinted at her. “King of what, sugar?”

  Naturally, no one answered. Gillian threw up her hands. “Why do I bother asking anything?”

  “I can’t stop my sisters from visiting the facility here because they’re on the board of the Santa charity,” Nick said. “To deter their attempts to squirrel Kori away, we had some Sídhe friends work a little magic for us.” He added in a mumble, “Those bitches never could counteract Sídhe magic.”

  “And the magic is what, that they’re ugly?”

  “Yes. No one really wants an ugly wife, no matter how fertile she is.”

  Gillian gaped. “They’re kids, Nick. They’re not gonna be anyone’s wives for a long, long time.”

  “I’m glad we’re in accord, then.”

  “In accord with that? I simply said they’re too young to be married.” Gillian scoffed. “Hell, I don’t even feel like I’m old enough to be married, and I’m twenty-eight.”

  “That’s unfortunate, Gilly.”

  “Why?”

  “Makes things harder for me.”

  “In what way?”

  He twirled his thumbs and ground his teeth some more.

  “Talk, dammit.”

  Het let out a breath and gave the ends of his platinum hair a flick. “You’re going to marry me, Gillian.”

  A little titter escaped from her lips, and she clasped her hand over her mouth, shaking her head. Her shoulders shook with laughter and eyes watered. When she was able to draw in a good breath, she said, “That’s a good one. I’m starting to get better at making sense of elf humor.”

  She laughed some more, and stopped a few seconds later when she realized no one else had joined in.

  The girls were too busy beaming adoringly at Nick to laugh, and Nick wore his usual impassive mien.

  “You’re…not joking, are you?”

  “You’re descended from fortunetellers. You tell me.”

  “I…” She gave her head a shake and scrambled to her feet. “No, we can’t just…I’m just here to earn money for gifts. I can’t be what you want. There’s no way. I don’t qualify for that.”

  “Obviously, the Fates have decided that you do. If you don’t believe me, perhaps you’ll believe them.”

  “The same Fates who steered me toward a career that I wouldn’t even be able to support myself with, right?”

  When her back hit the edge of the counter, she started and clutched her chest. She hadn’t realized she’d moved that far.

  “I’m offering you a way for you not to have to worry about that anymore.”

  She gave her head a hard shake. “No. I’m not like you.” She wasn’t going to fall for it. She worked hard for everything she had, and that was the way it had to be. Her family shunned respectability, figuring that since people were going to prejudge them anyway, they’d give folks what they expected. Gillian couldn’t do that. Granny Sue had said they were better than that, and they’d all tried until she died. Then they gave up. Gillian wouldn’t, even if it made her life more difficult than it had to be.

  “Have you stopped to think that perhaps you not being like me is the ideal scenario?”

  Gillian furrowed her brow. “How?”

  Nick pulled his gaze from her and turned to the girls.

  No answer, but she was starting to expect that.

  “Let’s make a list of guards you like and I’ll have Agnes vet them. Maybe you could shop tomorrow.”

  “Are you going to go with us?” one of the girls asked.

  “What good would I do you, love? I’m a waste of space as far as domestic chores go. All I can do is give you money.”

  The girls actually looked a bit sad about it, and oddly, Gillian thought she understood why they might be. They felt safe when he was around and it was obvious he cared.

  He was overbearing as hell—sure—but they were safe and had to feel mostly provided for.

  It had been a long time since Gillian could say the same about herself. Likes those girls, Gillian was on her own.

  ***

  For the second time in their short acquaintance, Nick found Gillian asleep on a sofa with a blanket pulled over her head. And again, he sat on the edge of a coffee table and nudged back the cover.

  She slept with her delectable lips parted and all that dark hair covering her eyes. He nudged that back, too, and trailed his fingers down the line of her neck.

  In her sleep, she nuzzled his hand like a cat, and her eyes slowly opened.

  After a moment, she pulled away and sat up abruptly. “God.”

  “Would you have preferred the touch to have been from some stranger?”

  “You are a stranger.” She adjusted her blanket and rubbed her eyes. “What time is it? Can’t tell here because the damn sun doesn’t come up.”

  “It’s around seven. I want to show you something.”

  She whimpered. “Nick, it’s cold outside.”

  “Not walking. Teleporting. Where we’re going isn’t close.”

  “That’s even worse.”

  He took her hand, pushed his power out to encircle her, and teleported her with him to the magic realm.

  They landed in a dim room with cold stone floors and walls covered by faded ancient tapestries.

  Gillian turned in a full circle and wide-eyed, seemed to be absorbing the sights.

  Several long wooden tables each flanked by heavy cushioned benches. The tables were still set with dusty china, fine utensils and overturned goblets. On the other end of the room, up on a high, wide platform, was a throne.

  Gillian stepped up onto the dais and drew in startled breath at the transfer of dust onto her hand from touching the chair’s wooden back.

  “It hasn’t been occupied in quite some time, pet,” he said before she could ask the obvious question.

  “Nick, where are we? Is this a castle?”

  “A palace,” he said dryly. “The word ‘castle’ implies that there is more fortification than we have here.” He stepped up onto the platform and used the cuff of his shirt to clear some of the film off the chair’s broad arms. “When there’s a king fit for this chair, th
is compound—located in the realm of magic folk—is the safest place people like Kori can be.”

  “If you’re the supposed king, then why don’t you live here?”

  He cleared dust from the top of the chair back where an intricate carving of holly was inlaid. “Yes, it’s supposed to be my chair,” he said quietly, and then hooked his arm around hers and led her down the dais toward one of the doors at the side of the massive room. “When my father died, the throne was supposed to pass to my brother, but my sisters got in the way. When Peter died, I couldn’t take it either.”

  “So, you and the girls weren’t joking? You are a king?”

  “You hoped we’d said it in jest? Why?”

  She let out a dry laugh and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Put yourself in my shoes. This entire situation is bananas.”

  “In what way?” Nick led her toward a torch-lit corridor that led to a staircase covered with worn carpet. Everything about the place was dated and worn, but he couldn’t do anything about it. His hands were tied and the magic of the place wouldn’t reignite until he could officially take the throne. The best he could do for the time being was keep the structure from crumbling to the ground.

  “Think about it, Nick. I walked into the old Chinese restaurant looking for a part-time gig. I expected I’d be assigned to a store to wrap gifts or something. Nope. I found myself face-to-face with a guy who claimed he was Santa, but is really an elf, and who is apparently some sort of king. And this king seems to think I’m supposed to marry him. You don’t think that would be a shock to anyone’s system?”

  “Perhaps it would be.”

  At the top of the stairs Nick slid his arm around her waist yet again and gently guided her down a long, dim hall.

  “Someone lives here?” Gillian asked, obviously spotting the light at the end.

  “Yes. Someone still does.”

  “What happened to this place?”

  “As I said, my sisters happened to it. With a bit of help from some traitors I’ll eventually root out, they enchanted the throne, and the palace along with it.”

  “How so?”

  “By adding a loophole, my dear.” Mother stepped into the doorway of her chambers. Her silver silk dressing gown’s bluish tones made her iridescent skin and hair look even paler than usual.