13. MILA
13
MILA
A strange woodsy scent hits my nose, and just as consciousness begins to come back to me, I slowly peel my eyes open to a strange room. What the actual fuck happened?
I try to look around, and the moment my eyes shift inside my head, an instant headache booms inside my skull like a million tiny little Christmas elves have crawled in through my ears, set up a million little drum sets, and spent the night raving inside my skull. I immediately close my eyes again, willing the pain to subside.
Maybe if I stay as still as possible and keep my eyes closed, the darkness behind my lids will eventually trick my brain into thinking my headache has faded. Though I’ve never been that lucky when it comes to shit like this. A good migraine can usually take me out for days.
Perhaps I’m in the hospital. Last thing I knew, I was standing on the roof with Nick, desperately wishing he could stay, and the next, I was out cold.
Perhaps something happened with one of the reindeer and they accidentally knocked me out. Maybe I got too close to the sleigh on takeoff and hit my head, erasing the few minutes of memory beforehand. Either way, whatever happened, I’m pissed. I’ve lost my final goodbye with Nick, and now I’m going to have to wait another whole year before I get to see him again.
After a few minutes, I finally risk opening my eyes again, expecting to see the clinical walls of a hospital room. Instead, I find myself tucked into a huge king-sized bed, the pillows softer than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. The white feather blankets feel as though they were handcrafted by angels and sent straight from heaven.
“What in the ever-loving fuck?”
I push up onto my elbow. Don’t get me wrong, this bed is simply divine, but how the fuck did I get into it? And more importantly, who put me into it? Because the one thing I know for sure is that this is certainly no hospital room. No subtle beep on a heart rate monitor. No nurses walking by the door. No stiff, itchy blankets.
I look closer.
The room I’m in seems more like someone’s personal bedroom, and yet, also so far from that. There’s nothing in here that suggests it belongs to anyone. No pictures around the room, no hint of personal style, and no personal belongings left scattered on the bedside table. In my shitty apartment, you can’t walk an inch without seeing something of mine strewn across the room. Pictures of my parents in frames or clothes left hanging over the back of the couch. This room though, it’s the complete opposite.
My heart races as I get the feeling something isn’t right here, and I sit up fully before throwing the blankets right back and immediately regretting it. It’s fucking freezing.
My nipples harden for all the wrong reasons, and I hastily wrap my arms around myself as I stumble out of the bed. I’m still wearing the silk gown I was wearing on the rooftop with Nick, so I guess that’s a positive that nobody has attempted to take it off me. However, it’s not as though I was wearing anything beneath it. I’m naked under this thin piece of material, and that’s not exactly offering me a lot of confidence.
Just how long have I been passed out? And more importantly, has someone taken advantage of me while I wasn’t able to defend myself?
I try to take stock of my body, feeling around to make sure everything is as it should be. Everything is sore, and yet after the wild night I just spent with Nick, it’s impossible to tell if that’s him I’m still feeling or if something a little more sinister is going on.
I begin padding around the room with my arms locked protectively around my body, trying to keep warm, but with every single step, it becomes even more clear that something is off here. My heart races faster, and unease pulses through my veins as I pause in front of the huge window in the bedroom.
“Holy fucking shit.”
The view of New York City I expected has changed. Instead of city lights over slushy streets, I find myself looking out at an expanse of snowcapped hills. There are reindeer everywhere, completely unaware of the way I’m starting to freak out.
Reindeer could only mean one thing.
This is all Nick’s doing.
He brought me here. He’s responsible for . . . whatever the fuck this is. It’s clear as day I’m no longer in New York, but what about the United States? Am I still in the country I was raised in and have called home for the past twenty-seven years?
Holy shit. This is not happening. I wasn’t knocked out by accident. Nick did this.
I know I asked to be with him, to be his, but I never realized that meant having my world stripped away. Sure. the life I had in New York wasn’t amazing. I was miserable most of the time, but it was mine. I created it and despite everything, I was proud of what little I’d accomplished on me own and now … it’s just gone. New York is the resting place of my parents. It’s where I grew up, where I went to school, and had my first kiss. It’s my home, and in a matter of seconds, it was stripped away from me. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.
What have I done?
Horror begins pounding at my chest, and I hastily move around the room, finding a bathroom and then a huge walk-in closet. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen, and yet every piece of clothing inside is either black or Santa Claus red.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
With the cold threatening to take me out, I have no choice but to grab one of Nick’s oversized hoodies and a pair of sweatpants. I quickly pull them on, not exactly thrilled about the way the material swims on me, but it’s all I’ve got to work with right now. Searching through drawers, I find some socks and a pair of boots before dropping down to my ass to pull them on.
The socks are everything I never knew I needed, and in my panic of realizing Nick has potentially kidnapped me, I hadn’t even realized just how frozen my feet had become. But these socks . . . shit. They’re just like the blanket on the bed, hand-crafted specifically for my warmth.
After pulling on the boots, I get to my feet. I’m not exactly thrilled about their fit either. Nick is huge, and naturally, so are his boots, but if I plan on surviving the weather out there, I’m going to need something a little sturdier than my silk gown to keep me warm.
With equal parts determination and anxiety, I make my way to the bedroom door, more than ready to face whatever stands in my way. Only as I reach for the door handle, I pause.
I hadn’t exactly thought about what lies on the other side of this door, but now that I’m standing here, ready to barge through it, I’m not quite feeling so confident. What if Nick is standing on the other side waiting for me? What if it’s not Nick at all? What if I’m about to be faced with something horrible?
Fuck me. How did I get myself into this situation?
I should have known better. When the mystery guy who visited me every Christmas Eve admitted that he has some slight stalker tendencies, I should have seen that as a blazing red flag. However, I’ve been so deprived of love and affection, so desperate to feel something, that I didn’t even notice how fucked up it was. All that mattered was how good the sex was, how fast my heart raced around him, and how quickly Christmas would come around again. I was all for it. Ready to hand myself over to a fucking psychopath.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I keep ending up with men who are batshit crazy? Though to be fair to my ex, he wasn’t crazy. He was just an asshole. But apparently, Nick is too. I should have heeded his warnings when he said he was the black sheep of the family. He told me point-blank that he was an asshole, that the people who know him tolerate him out of fear, and all I did was bat my fucking eyelashes at the guy and beg him to take me again.
If I ever make it out of here, I should see to it that I’m committed, straitjacket and all.
Realizing there’s no time quite like the present, I try to ignore the nerves infecting my body and slowly begin to open the bedroom door. The house seems too silent, and I find myself holding my breath and listening to every little noise as the door inches open.
It doesn’t sound like there’s anyone here, and as the door opens just enough for me to peek through the gap, I take a hasty look around, making sure no little whore elves are about to jump out at me. Nick said there were no elves, but honestly, that really shattered my illusion of Christmas. I was all for the whore elves.
Positive that I’m alone, I pull the door all the way open and slowly step out into the main part of the house.
It’s fucking massive.
No one on this green earth needs a home this fucking big, but hell, if anyone would, why wouldn’t it be the Grinch who masquerades as jolly old Saint Nick?
Fucking asshole.
Did he really kidnap me? Knock me out and shove my ass into his big red sleigh only to bring me here . . . wherever that may be. The North Pole, I’m assuming. The place he told me was almost impossible to get to.
Shit, I’m well and truly fucked.
I can barely wrap my head around it, and as I step out of the bedroom with my massive boots, I search for a way to free myself from this hell hole. Okay, I mean, it’s not actually a hell hole. This home is magnificent. I would happily live here any day of the week, but the fact that Nick has brought me here without my consent automatically makes me hate it.
Shit. Why didn’t I listen when he said he was an asshole? I’ve been so blinded by my rampant feelings for him that I couldn’t see what was right in front of my face. Even now, knowing what he’s done, my heart still races at the thought of getting to see him. Though, if I don’t get my stupid ass out of here soon, seeing him again is probably going to come a shitload sooner than I originally anticipated.
Making my way around the room, I cross through the massive living space, and assuming I’m here for the rest of my life, I can tell I’m going to spend a decent amount of time on that couch. It looks good enough to live on, but for now, I must concentrate.
I don’t even bother to make my way into the massive kitchen, instead, I cross right to the foyer and hurry to the front door, only as I grab it and start to twist, I come up short. The fucker is locked.
“Shit.”
Panic begins to rise in my chest, and I hastily whip around, my gaze jumping around the extraordinary home, searching for a way out. There are windows everywhere, and as I race around the house, I realize that every single one of them has been locked as well.
What kind of psychopath locks every single window? Everyone knows that you always leave one open for those days you lock yourself out of your house and you’ve forgotten where you hid the spare key. Or is that just a me thing?
After a thorough check of the house, I realize there isn’t a single way out, and I start to get fidgety, not enjoying this one bit. How the hell am I supposed to stage my grand escape when I can’t even get through the door? Damn it. If this was a horror movie, I’d be the first one killed, and what’s worse, I’d probably insist that my would-be murderer fuck me up against the wall first and make me a replica of his dick for me to ride until I get to see him again.
Figuring my only hope now is to escape through a broken window, I go in search of something I can use to smash the glass, but all I come up with is the armchair in the living room. I don’t exactly have much of a plan after that. Nick mentioned that there are a bunch of helpers here, and I’m assuming his parents too, who I really hope are nice people and would be able to help me. If I find them, perhaps I’m one step closer to finding my way back home.
Taking the armchair, I test its weight, seeing just how far I might be able to throw it, but I pause when I hear the front door unlocking.
The door opens with speed, not allowing me a chance to even run and hide, and within seconds, Nick’s dark gaze is locked on mine.
“Ahh fuck,” he mutters, cringing as he eyes the chair above my head. “I was hoping you’d still be out cold.”
What in the actual fuck is wrong with this guy?
I can’t respond. Is he seriously that insane?
Nick creeps toward me, and seeing the way I stare back at him like a deer in headlights, he holds his hands out as if to try and soothe me and ensure he means no harm. But fuck, I’ve fallen for his bullshit before.
As he takes another step, my fight-or-flight instincts kick in, and I finally find my voice. “Don’t come any closer,” I snap, tightening my hold on the armchair, positive that at some point it will probably throw me off balance.
“Woah, baby,” he says. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Put the chair down.”
“Are you fucking insane?”
He shrugs his shoulders as if he’s actually considering it. “I’ve never been tested, but . . .”
He lets his comment fall away, leaving me gaping at him. “What the fuck is going on, Nick? Where the hell am I?”
“This is my home,” he says, waving his hands around this massive place.
“Gee, thanks, asshole,” I snap, adjusting my stance every time he inches toward me. “I’d figured that much out when I woke up in a fucking snow globe. I meant where am I? Where the hell have you brought me?”
He cringes again, those dark eyes that have haunted every single one of my dreams suddenly the object of my future nightmares. “We’re in the North Pole, Mila,” he explains. “I simply gave you what you wished for.”
“What?” I demand, shaking my head as I finally put the chair down. “No, this isn’t—”
“You wished to be mine,” he says. “You wished to be with me every day of the rest of our lives. To belong to only me. I gave you what you asked for, Mila. You wanted this, and now you have it. You’re mine.”
I back up a few steps, my back only inches from hitting the living room window. “No. That’s not what I meant,” I say, my heart pounding so hard in my chest, terrified of what I’ve done—of what he’s done. “You knocked me out and stole me away. How the hell could you possibly think that’s what I wanted?”
“I told you that you didn’t understand what you were asking for, what a life with me would mean, but you said you didn’t care. You said anything is better than the life you had in New York without me.”
I shake my head as he continues creeping toward me. “I . . . I didn’t realize—”
“It’s going to be okay,” he says, stepping into me, his hands finding my waist, only I spring back, slamming my hands down to knock his touch away.
“Don’t,” I rush out, darting across the living room and only narrowly avoiding him, yet when he takes another step in my direction, I can’t help but grab the small vase off the coffee table and launch it toward his stupidly gorgeous head.
Nick avoids the flying vase with ease and we both watch as it smashes against the wall behind his glorious head. “Really?” he says, his gaze slowly coming back to mine.
“Take me home,” I demand, clenching my jaw and mustering up every ounce of defiance I can possibly find within myself. “This isn’t what I meant, and you know it. I wanted a life with you, yes. But I wanted a life on my terms. You have literally stolen me away from everything I know.”
“You were fucking miserable in New York.”
“I DON’T CARE,” I yell. “I had the right to decide for myself if I wanted to be swept away. This place is . . .” I look around, not able to find the words to describe Nick’s home, but lonely sure comes to mind. “There’s not another soul in sight. No other homes, nothing for me to do here but sit and wait and play the role of your perfect little wifey. Well, fuck you. I don’t want it like this. Take me home.”
Nick clenches his jaw, something shifting in his dark stare. “I can’t do that.”
“The fuck you can’t,” I demand. “Take me home. Now.”
Nick strides toward me, and this time, I don’t flinch away from him, somehow knowing that he won’t hurt me. “My hands are tied, Mila. I can’t take you home,” he tells me, those dark eyes lingering so deeply on mine and confusing every thought inside my head. “You made a Christmas wish, and now that your wishes have been carried out, there’s nothing I can do about it. If you truly don’t want to be here, then you need to wish it away.”
Pain lingers behind his eyes, and for just a moment, I can almost pretend that maybe he really wanted this. Maybe bringing me here wasn’t some sinister plan to kidnap me. Maybe everything he did was out of love. But I was right to question myself. How can you love somebody you don’t even know?
“Then I wish it away,” I tell him, unsure why I feel as though my heart is tearing in two. “I wish to be taken back to New York.”
Nick simply stands there, his gaze locked on mine. “You don’t truly mean that.”
I raise my chin, unsure why my eyes are filling with tears. “I do,” I tell him, hating how I wish he would wrap his arms around me and hold me to his chest, telling me that everything is going to be okay.
“I can’t grant you something you don’t truly desire, Mila,” he says, his hand coming up and brushing the side of my face. “I know you are confused and unsure about how all of this has played out, but you don’t truly wish to be sent back home. You wanted this. You wanted to be mine.”
I shove him away, my emotions in an epic game of ping pong and giving me whiplash. “Yes, I might have wanted to be with you, but not like this,” I say, the tears finally flowing free. “Send me home.”
He shakes his head. “Like I said, I can’t do that.”
“You can and you will. That’s what I want. What I wished for.”
“It’s not quite as simple as that,” he tells me. “Once the sun rises on Christmas morning, I no longer possess the ability to grant your wishes. Look around you, Mila. The sun has fallen, and Christmas Day is almost over.”
My brows furrow as I follow his gaze out the window. “What are you saying? That I’m stuck here?”
Nick nods. “Yes. For the next twelve months. Come next December, if you truly want to leave, all you need to do is wish it.”
“Holy fucking shit.” I press my hands to my temples as I pace the length of the living room, my headache suddenly coming back in full force. “Twelve fucking months? I’m stuck here in this snow globe prison for a whole year?”
“Surely you must understand,” he says. “I have loved you since I was a boy. I was fine watching from the sidelines, but the moment you allowed me to touch you, there was no going back for me. I am yours. I have always been yours.”
“Oh wow. Lucky me. My kidnapper is in love. How fucking sweet.”
“Mila—”
“You’re a psychopath.”
Nick grins, and his eyes dance with darkness. “Perhaps. But that’s what you like about me, isn’t it, baby?” he murmurs, stepping into me again, his dark stare locking onto mine and catching me completely unaware. “You liked it when I snuck into your room every Christmas Eve. You like when you get me so worked up that I have no choice but to fuck myself. And you fucking love it when that wild part of me comes out and makes you scream. Don’t start denying that this is exactly what you want. You asked for this. You asked for me, and now that you’ve got it, you’re going to stand here and pretend that this isn’t exactly what you’ve been craving all fucking year.”
I shove him away again, only this time he doesn’t budge. He simply catches my hands against his chest, the way his heart is racing just as fast as mine almost brings me to my knees. “You took away my right to choose.”
“I took away your ability to hide from what you truly wanted,” he tells me. “You’re scared of wanting something you shouldn’t. You’re scared of letting yourself actually feel for a change. I gave you what your heart truly desired. So what if I had to kidnap you to make it happen? I won’t apologize for that. I get to have you every fucking day now.”
I scoff. “You’re not having anything.”
“So be it, Mila. But just knowing you are here in my home is more than enough for me. I don’t need to fuck you to know I still have you.”
Yanking my hands free, I tear away from him. “You’re a cocky bastard.”
“Yes,” he agrees. No question about it.
“So, just like that, I’m trapped here for the next twelve months?”
“The North Pole is so much more than the reindeer farm outside the window. Give it a chance, Mila. Despite what you might think, I know your heart, and I think after you truly see what it is we do here, you will fall in love with this place. The next twelve months won’t be enough for you, and soon enough, you will start to realize how wrong you were to ever want to go back to your mundane, lonely life in New York. You belong here with me. You just don’t know it yet.”