The shower ran as I put on one shoe then the other. If only he had invited me to join him. Instead, I walked through the small house and out the front door. I jogged back to the main house. My face felt colder than before. Perhaps it was because I was crying.
Chapter Eight
Jasper Walker Christmas
Jasper turned on the shower so he couldn’t hear Holly fiddling around out there. He had it bad for Holly Henderson. At least, his dick did. Maybe his brain did too. He’d been told the two were one and the same. That had never applied to him until now. Fuck, those lips and that pillow-soft skin… He hadn’t known she was a runner. That explained her shapely legs. She was not bone-thin, which probably had to do with how she’d eaten the night before. Holly Henderson wasn’t one of those women who ate like a bird and worked out like an Olympic athlete. He liked that about her.
Shit, why did Bronwyn invite her into his life? Jasper didn’t want to get to know Holly Henderson more than he already had. Jasper did want to keep fucking her, though. One day, and probably soon, he would lose interest. The less she talked, the faster that would happen. She knew how to hold her own, as well as what to say and how to say it, to get what she wanted. That had been evident at dinner. Fucking Spencer. She could get him to expose every secret he kept if she got close enough to him. It would be game over if he fucked her, which would only happen over Jasper’s dead body. As long as she and he were in the same house, her pussy was his.
The steam filled the bathroom. He didn’t want to take a shower. Her aroma was all over his face and body. He would still be tasting her hard knot and soft slit… A breath escaped him just thinking about it. Unfortunately, Jasper had a long day ahead of him. He turned off the shower. There was no need to wash her scent off.
Jasper closed down the guesthouse—he wouldn’t be coming back—and headed to the main house. Snow flurries started gushing from the sky. Walking between the trees and gazing up at the mansion that loomed in the distance reminded him of how much he hated the place. He had been living in California for the past four months. It was probably seventy-eight degrees in LA. When he’d woken up the morning before, he had wished he was there. Right now, he was content where he was, which had everything to do with their houseguest. Shit, she was driving him crazy. But at the moment, Jasper forced himself to concentrate on his first order of business for the day, which was to check on his father.
The thought of seeing Randolph made each step a chore. His father was a million miles from being a saint. Throughout Jasper’s life, Randolph had required him to be loyal to no one but their family, while demanding devotion from every living soul who happened into their universe. Did he love the man? No. Did he hate him? Maybe.
When Randolph had his first major stroke seven months ago and suffered severe brain damage, something inside Jasper felt freer. Perhaps it was his soul, which had suddenly become unburdened by Randolph’s hellish ways. The day hospice care was brought to the mansion for his father, Jasper had moved out. His father didn’t know it. If he had, Randolph would’ve never approved. And Jasper would have not gone against him. But it was a new day, these were new times and Jasper felt them deep in his bones. And to test his new found freedom, he had fired his father’s favorite accountants and lawyers, the ones who always opposed his decisions and plans. He’d also been avoiding Arthur Valentine as he tried to figure out what in the hell to do about him. Arthur was the only person in the world Randolph jumped through hoops for. Randolph always said they owed a lot to the Valentines. When Jasper would ask him to elaborate, his father chose not to. Jasper combed the books dozens of times, trying to find any suspicious payments to or from Valentine Corp. or any of its subsidiaries, but he never found a thing. Apparently, according to Randolph, the only way the Christmases could scamper from under Valentine’s thumb was if Jasper ran for the highest political seat in the land and won.
“But why?” Jasper asked his father probably a thousand times.
Randolph would glare at him with that aggressive look in his eyes, and say something like, “Don’t question me boy. Just do it.”
After that memory Jasper had a change of heart. He was positive he hated his father, although he would never say it out loud.
As soon as he walked in through the back door, Nigel, the house butler, took his coat. “Good morning, Jasper. Breakfast will be served in half an hour.” Then he handed him the Times.
Jasper took the newspaper from him. “Did you do what I asked?”
“Yes, the subject is in her room. No one saw her.”
He nodded once, rapidly. “Thank you. I take it father hasn’t improved?”
“No, he has not. He had taken a turn for the worse overnight. I didn’t inform you because you asked me to not—”
Jasper raised a hand. “I know what I asked. That’s fine.”
He looked up the curved stairway. Father’s room was on the third floor. A turn for the worse? Randolph was already on his last leg. However, Jasper was happy Nigel hadn’t disturbed him. He had made plans to fuck Holly Henderson all night long. He wanted to fuck her until she couldn’t stand. He wanted to drink all the juices she had to offer. But something unexpected was happening, and it had started the second he went down on her. He was enjoying sex. He was relishing in her puffy, delectable pussy that his mouth found tantalizing… That intoxicated look in her eyes as his tongue stroked her clit… The heat from her inner thighs warming his face… Then she’d come, and that had made her wetter. He had fucked her like a madman. He’d never done it that way before. It felt liberating.
Jasper set his gaze back on Nigel, making sure the butler didn’t see anything in his expression that would expose his thoughts. “Thank you. I’ll go up now.”
He took his time climbing the stairs. It felt good to not be filled with anxiety for having to jump through all of his father’s hoops. He knew exactly what he’d find, a decrepit old man being kept alive by ventilators. Jasper would’ve let him die a long time ago. But Randolph insisted he be resuscitated. The old man meant to go into the dark kicking and screaming. Finally, Japer made it to his father’s room and braced himself as he put a hand around the fine brass doorknob. Usually, it was locked, but Nigel had made sure the hospice care staff had kept it unlocked for his arrival. No more stalling. He entered.
The room covered half of the third floor. Jasper moved slowly through his father’s personal parlor. The brown leather furniture was polished, everything was dusted and cleaned but that hadn’t changed a thing. Randolph used to entertain some of the most powerful men in the country in the space, treating them with cigars, alcohol, all kinds of drugs, and high-end prostitutes, who were male or female, depending on a man’s preference. His father would sneak other pleasures into his den, must-haves he wanted to keep from Jasper’s eyes. But the room had always held an anything-goes energy. No matter what, he could smell the sour pussy of hookers and the bad breath of two-faced conmen lingering in the air.
Jasper released his breath after clearing the space, which opened up to the big bed of lasciviousness. It was where his father fucked all of his hookers. But there was no woman sitting on his limp dick anymore. Randolph was alone and as pale as a ghost with tubes hooked up to his body and a breathing apparatus over his mouth. The scent of the death was in the air. Jasper knew that at any moment Randolph would live his last second on earth.
Jasper hadn’t noticed the nurse standing at attention, watching him as he examined his father.
“Good morning, Laura,” he said to the exhausted-looking woman in the blue hospital scrubs.
“Good morning, Jasper,” she replied.
He set his focus back on his father. “So what happened here last night?”
She walked over to stand on the other side of his bed. “He had another series of strokes. But he’s stabilized for now.”
“I see. Is Dr. Carlisle around?” Jasper asked.
“I’m here,” the doctor said.
Dr. Carlisle walked into the roo
m and provided Jasper with the full prognosis in regard to Randolph’s recovery.
* * *
It was after eight a.m., and all the siblings were seated at the table, eating breakfast. Jasper had just relayed what the doctor had told him. Randolph may not make it through the rest of the day or night. The mood was sullen but not because any of them were sad. Things were on the verge of changing, and they knew it. What will it be like to not live under Randolph Christmas’s watchful eye?
Jasper noticed the way Asher, Spencer, and Bronwyn were watching him. He could see the question in their eyes. They wondered if he would become him, his unique version of Randolph Christmas. He would not, and that he was sure of.
“Then he’s dying?” Asher asked.
There was no way to sugarcoat it. “Yes,” Jasper said.
“Then what do you want from us?” Bryn said in a scathing tone.
Jasper meant for his scowl to burn the hell out of her.
“It’s more of a matter of what I need from you,” he said to her.
“If you’re referring to the book, you can’t stop this train, Ace. It’s a go.” She set her jaw defiantly.
Jasper hoisted his body toward her. “Don’t fucking test me, Bryn. You might not like the results.”
She leaned away from him. “Are you threatening me?”
After a moment, he sighed forcefully. She of all people knew he didn’t make threats. “No.”
“Good. Because legally, you can’t stop this book. Try to stop me, and I will…”
They all waited for her to finish her statement, but instead, she shook her head like a petulant five-year-old.
“You’ll what?” Spencer asked.
She massaged her temples. “I don’t know. Just… I don’t know.”
Everyone fell silent.
Jasper studied Bryn. He had to become an expert at reading what in the hell was going on behind her eyes. She was the one person who could bring the Christmases to their knees and make it harder to pay a debt for which none of them knew why it was owed.
“I want to see her notes,” Jasper said. “I want to know who she’s going to talk to, when she’s going to talk to them, what questions she’s going to ask, and how she’s going to ask them.” He failed to mention that he could ask Holly Henderson all of that himself, but he didn’t want any of them to know he was fucking her beautiful brains right out of her head. They couldn’t know.
Bryn crossed her arms defiantly. “You’ll see her notes, but that’s it.” Finally, she set her hands on the table. “You’re going to have to trust me on this, Jasper. This is my project, my contribution to the family.”
Uh-oh. What the hell does she mean by that?
“Good morning.” The voice instantly made Jasper’s dick start to grow.
Bryn’s face lit up with intrigue and mischief. “I invited Holls to join us for breakfast,” she announced.
Jasper was lost for words. First and foremost, Holly Henderson’s skin glowed, which was a sign that he had fucked her good. Her dark hair was bouncy. He could smell her sweet shampoo and that other scent, that fucking other scent she wore. What was it? His gaze veered down to her long legs clad in that black pantsuit that fit her sexy body like a glove. Damn, would he have fun peeling her out of all that material. How dare she stroll into breakfast against his orders, looking that way? Then she sat next to Bryn. Her skin burned red as she finally and shyly glanced at him.
Holly took a breath. “Um, so…” I was happy she was getting the message my glower was conveying. “This morning, Bryn and I discussed my approach for interviewing you all. She, however, did provide stipulations regarding what areas of the Christmases I could broach and which I could not.”
“And which areas are those?” Jasper asked.
“Any questions regarding your political aspirations, business practices or legal actions against any of you, past or present. I would have to gain clearance from—”
“Me,” Jasper interrupted.
“Me,” Bryn quickly said.
He had to take a beat as he glared at her. “Do you think I can’t nip your little project in the fucking bud with only one fucking phone call?” His skin was hot, and at the moment, he was ready to destroy his little sister if need be.
She must’ve seen it in his eyes, because she cleared her throat and said, “Okay. She’ll report to the both of us.”
Jasper released the breath he was holding. When he glanced at Holly Henderson, she was studying me in a way that indicated she saw the real him, the part of him that Randolph Christmas had made, and it scared the hell out of her.
Chapter Nine
What sort of craziness had Bryn put me in the middle of? Jasper looked at his little sister as if he wanted to rip her head off. And sure enough, Bryn received the memo. My heart was beating out of my chest. I should’ve been scared as hell of him, but I wasn’t. Whatever monster looked out of his eyes was the thing that had fucked me as if my pussy were feed for him.
“I don’t mind reporting to all of you, actually,” I said, hoping to take the sting out of the air. “I’m not one of those backhanded journalists. I’ll tell you when we’re on the record, and by the way, we’re on the record.” I smiled.
“I want to go first,” Spencer said.
I had been keeping my eyes on the one who needed to be convinced the most, but when I turned to Spencer, just the look in his eyes alone made me feel as if he were fucking me against my will.
“Spencer, back off,” Jasper barked.
Spencer smirked. “Why? Do you want to go first?”
“Do you think this is a fucking game?” Jasper pointed a hand at me. “Have you ever heard of her?”
“I’m not the one who has to run for president,” Spencer replied.
Has to?
“Quiet, Spencer.” Jasper flew out of his seat and glared at me. “He’s off the fucking table. He’s a fucking loose cannon. And we get to protect ourselves. You got that?”
I was about to ask what in the hell he had to protect so much, but then it dawned on me that Jasper’s overreaction had nothing to do with his claim, especially when he pointed to me and said, “You talk to me first, after breakfast.”
I gulped. My heart was beating out of my chest as I visualized just how that talk was going to unfold. I couldn’t speak; all I could do was nod.
“Here’s one for you, Holly,” Asher said. There was a certain energy in his voice that told me he was going to say something Jasper wouldn’t like. “In our family, we have a brother who likes to fuck the other brothers’ girlfriends.”
He said brothers, plural.
Spencer slouched in his chair. “She’s a prostitute, Ash. She was never your girlfriend.”
“She’s my girlfriend now,” Asher whined. He was twenty-nine like Bryn and me, but he came off as someone ten years younger. I wondered what had stunted his emotional growth. Regardless, I made a mental note of the spat going on between the brothers.
“Hey, give it a break,” Jasper roared. “Could we sit here and behave like adults for once? Father’s dying.” He raised his hands and shook them. “What if none of this shit existed anymore? What would you do?” He looked primarily at Bryn, who watched him like a deer trapped in headlights.
I took a mental note of that too.
Just then, the food service began. The chef announced a breakfast of eggs Benedict with sweet Christmas ham, oven-roasted garlic potatoes, country butter, and cheese biscuits.
I couldn’t believe Jasper had wanted me to miss this breakfast. My mouth watered as the servers set one of the plates before me. This was how ultra-rich people ate. Every morning, I made myself oatmeal with apples and pecans sautéed in cinnamon and honey for breakfast. My usual was indeed healthier, and I typically monitored how much of the bad stuff I put into my body, but there was no way to resist the meals that were coming out of the Christmases’ kitchen.
The first thing I bit into was the biscuit.
“You like that?”
Jasper asked.
I didn’t realize my eyes were closed until he spoke. I opened them, still chewing. “Umm… yes.”
He nodded sharply then looked down at his plate and coughed.
“As I was saying, Holly,” Asher said, “you should probably ask Spencer why he’s the way he is, sticking his dick in all my girlfriends.”
Spencer laughed with an edge. “Girlfriends? How did you meet these girlfriends? Plus, I don’t stick. I jab. I ram.” He winked at me, and I curved my shoulders as I frowned squeamishly.
Jasper pounded the table, and everything on it quaked. “Enough!”
“Listen, Jasper,” Bryn said in a voice of reason. “Holls is not here to exploit Spencer and Asher’s tragic sex lives.”
“True,” I said before taking a bite of the sweet Christmas ham drenched in Hollandaise sauce. “Rich people having sex with strippers, prostitutes, and Marilyn Monroe lookalikes is not what makes a story.”
Bryn chuckled. “I know, right? Who in their right mind walks around looking that way?”
Since I was chewing, I raised my eyebrows in consensus. I caught Jasper licking his lips as he watched me. I found it strange that no one seemed to pick up on the sexual cues he was throwing at me. I made a mental note of that as I took my next bite.
“A woman that’s not afraid to eat—that’s sexy,” Spencer said.
I swallowed. “Here’s what I would like to know.” I turned to Bryn. “What are you doing these days?”
Her smile wavered. “What do you mean?”
“You never came back after our first year of college, and you never said why.”
“She was expelled for cheating,” Jasper said.
I pressed my lips into a fine line as I thought. The fact that it was Jasper who’d answered made me certain that was not the real reason. I looked at Bryn, who shrugged. However, her expression was purposefully blank. I knew that expression very well.
Intrigued: The Dark Christmases Page 6