Chapter 30
Dr. Carter
THUD-THUD-THUD.
The heavy, rhythmic pounding against my front door fractured the silent, cedar-scented sanctuary of the master bedroom like a series of gunshots.
I bolted upright, a sharp gasp catching in my throat as my heart instantly kicked into overdrive.
Beside me, Alex was moving before she was even fully conscious.
The raw adrenaline of our previous night hadn't even begun to leave her system, and it flared back to life in a blinding, white-hot rush.
She rolled out of bed, her bare feet hitting the hardwood with a heavy slap, looking feral, panicked, and entirely ready to tear apart whoever was threatening our peace.
"Alex—wait!" My voice sliced through the morning air, a sharp command that brought her to a screeching halt near the door.
I looked at her, my eyes raking over her posture.
She stood there panting, fists clenched, completely unaware of how magnificent—and utterly exposed—she was.
The morning light streamed through the curtains, illuminating her body like a map of my ownership: dark, violet hickeys blossoming across her throat, the faint, elegant tracing of rope burns on her delicate skin.
The fierce, defensive stance she had taken looked deliciously absurd given how completely dismantled and marked she clearly was.
The pounding echoed through the house again. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
"Who the fuck is that?" she hissed, her voice gravelly, cracked, and thick with protective static.
I slipped out of the sheets and reached for my silk robe, my corporate, academic composure returning with terrifying speed.
I looked at my girl one last time, standing tall in the light of day, covered in my claims and looking ready to kill for me.
A flash of dark, intensely satisfied pride flickered in my chest.
"Stay here," I commanded, tying the belt of my robe with a decisive, sharp snap. "Do not come out of this room, Alex. Not until I see who it is."
"I'm coming with you," she snapped back, snatching one of my spare silk robes off the armchair and shoving her arms into the sleeves. The fabric was far too long for her, the hem trailing like a heavy shadow on the floor, but her stubborn jaw was set.
I stopped her at the threshold, placing my palm flat against her chest. I let my gaze turn to absolute steel. "I said, stay."
I slipped past her, clicking the bedroom door shut behind me.
As I marched down the stairs, the cool air of the house did nothing to soothe the irritation spiking in my veins. I glided across the marble floor and threw back the heavy click of the deadbolt.
"CC, took you long enough! Merry Christmas!"
Richard’s voice boomed through my foyer, loud, obnoxious, and utterly devoid of manners. He stepped inside, dragging a heavy bag that scuffed against my pristine floors.
"It is New Year’s Day, Richard. Not Christmas," I replied. My voice was terrifyingly calm—the exact tone I used right before I utterly ruined a student's academic standing.
"Oh, come on, CC! Aren’t you happy to see your little brother?" He threw himself forward, completely blind to the warning signs radiating from my posture.
"Richard, you were supposed to be in Cambridge," I stated, my voice echoing up the grand stairwell. I was hyper-aware that Alex was listening to every word from above. "And you most certainly were not invited to stay here. Especially not today."
"Plans changed! And since when does family need an invitation?" He dropped his heavy luggage with a dull thud. "Anyway, I’m starving. Is there coffee? Or better yet, whatever’s left of the champagne?"
I watched him trudge past me toward the kitchen, his heavy boots tracking winter grit into my house. My mind flashed back to his entitlement from years ago—his constant draining of my Macallan, his endless assumptions that my success belonged to him. I felt a vein throb in my temple.
I turned and marched back up the stairs, my stride sharp and rhythmic. When I opened the bedroom door, I was absolutely livid. I shut it behind me with a quiet, lethal click.
"My little brother is drunk, and he is currently raiding my fridge," I said flatly, my voice trembling with the sheer effort of maintaining my mask. "I have to deal with him. I am so sorry, darling."
The moment the threat of an actual intruder faded, I watched the adrenaline drain from Alex's body.
The physical exhaustion of the night caught up to her all at once—the soreness of her thighs, the dull throb in her wrists where the velvet ropes had secured her to me. She swayed slightly on her feet.
My expression softened instantly. My fury remained, but it redirected entirely away from her. I crossed the rug, my hands reaching out to gently stroke her arms, grounding her against me. I gently coaxed her backward until she was sitting on the edge of the mattress.
"You’re shaking, baby," I murmured, my thumb tracing the sweet line of her jaw. "Maybe you should have another bath. Or just get back under the covers and sleep. I’ll handle Richard and get him out of here as soon as he’s sober enough to keep his balance."
She looked up at me, a tiny prickle of anxiety clouding her beautiful eyes. "What do you want me to do? Do... do you need me to leave? I can slip out the back."
The mere suggestion made my fingers tighten on her shoulders. Absolute, possessive heat flashed through my chest.
"Leave?" I repeated, my voice dropping an octave into something dark and non-negotiable. "You aren't going anywhere, Alex. You belong in this house. In this bed."
I leaned down, pressing my forehead against hers, breathing her in. "You stay here. You are not something I’m hiding or throwing out just because my brother is an idiot. Lock the door, get some rest, and let Mommy fix this."
I cupped her cheeks, tilting her face up to force her to see the absolute certainty in my eyes.
"I am not hiding you, Alex. But Richard is an unrefined idiot, and he is not worth the introduction—not today, and certainly not like this. You are far too precious for me to let him see you when you’re this... vulnerable."
I pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, tasting the private sanctuary we had built in this room.
Then, the world shattered.
The door swung open with a cheerful, unceremonious creak. I hadn't fully engaged the lock.
Richard stood in the doorway, looking like a crumpled, unwashed disaster in a flannel shirt. In his hands, he held a plate of cold leftover roast and a bottle of vintage Bordeaux from my collection that cost more than his monthly allowance.
"Hey, CC, I can’t find the—"
He stopped dead. The words withered in his throat.
His gaze traveled slowly from me to the girl sitting on my bed.
The silence in the room turned thick enough to choke on.
Richard’s eyes went wide, tracing the oversized silk robe slipping off her shoulder, settling directly on the vivid, purple-red marks blossoming across her throat. He looked at the bed, then back to me.
I turned around with the slow, terrifying grace of an apex predator interrupted mid-meal.
"Richard," I said. My voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a subsonic edge that caused the wine bottle in his hand to visibly tremble. "Get. Out."
He blinked, his mouth falling open. "I... uh... the corkscrew? I didn't think you had... company."
"I am not 'company,'" Alex snapped from behind me, her own protective streak flaring up despite the sheer embarrassment of her state. She pulled the silk robe tighter around her skin.
I took a single step forward, my silhouette completely blocking his view of her, shielding my prize from his pathetic eyes. "You have three seconds to turn around and go back downstairs before I make sure you never find that corkscrew—or your luggage—ever again. One."
But Richard didn’t move. He was an absolute, unmitigated idiot. Instead of retreating, he leaned to the side, peering around my shoulder with a lopsided, drunken grin that made my skin crawl. His eyes raked over her one last time, a knowing, predatory glint in his expression.
Then, he let out a long, low wolf whistle.
"I didn't realise you had a thing for the younger ones, CC," he chuckled, thick with unearned bravado. "And here I thought you were just a boring old academic. She’s a firecracker, isn't she? Does she have a name, or—"
I saw absolute, blinding red.
It was an instantaneous, violent shift. I did not wait for him to finish the sentence.
Moving with pure, instinctive speed, my hand shot out and gripped the lapel of his flannel shirt.
I slammed him backward into the hallway, the heavy thud of his spine hitting the doorframe echoing down the corridor.
"You will not look at her," I hissed, my face inches from his, my voice a low, vibrating snarl that made the very air in the hallway turn cold. "You will not speak to her. And you will never speak about her again."
Richard’s drunken grin vanished, replaced by a look of sheer, sober terror. The plate of roast tilted precariously, food sliding onto my rug, but he was too busy staring into my eyes. He realised, finally, that he was looking at a woman who was entirely capable of ruining him.
"CC, I was just—"
"You were just making the biggest mistake of your life," I interrupted, my fingers tightening on his shirt until his heels nearly lifted off the floor.
"She is the most important person in this house, and you are a guest I am seconds away from evicting into the snow.
Do you understand me, Richard? One more word, one more look, and I will erase you from my life before the sun sets. "
"Understood," he squeaked, his face turning a mottled, pathetic shade of red.
"Good." I shoved him backward toward the stairs. "Now, go to the guest room. Lock the door. And don't you dare come out until I tell you to."