Unwrapping Mr. Roth

by Holley Trent

  “The elf reported it to police?”

  “Yes. But her father wasn’t in jail long enough for my liking, so the next time I needed a punching bag I tracked him down. Wasn’t that hard.”

  Appalled, she gave his lapels angry yanks. “That is not your job, Nick!”

  He unfroze time, judging by the sudden movement of the cars in the street. “Are you worried I’m going to get hurt?”

  “No! It’s not your job to be judge, jury, and executioner. You can’t go vigilante on every bad guy. You’d never do anything else.”

  “Well, pet, I was a vigilante long before I started delivering gifts. People do horrible things to children. That’s not new. The way I deal with them simply is.” Nick guided her into a dark alleyway where they deposited their excess gear for the teamsters to pick up.

  He wrapped her in his arms and held her close to his front. “So, dinner?”

  Knowing the guy was an elf and king was one thing. But some kind of mobster? That was more than she could handle at the moment. “Take me home, please.”

  “Gillian—”

  “Nick, please.”

  He stared at her coolly for so long that she expected him to tell her no. He straightened his already-rigid posture and tightened his hold on her. “As you wish.”

  When Gillian’s vision cleared and head stopped spinning, her gaze fixed on Agnes on the sofa.

  Agnes set Puffer on the floor.

  Puffer immediately scampered over to the door and sniffed Nick’s Italian loafers.

  Gillian bent to give the dog a scratch between his ears. He sniffed her fingers, made a little huffing noise, and ran back to Agnes.

  “Little traitorous bastard.”

  “Aww, be nice,” Agnes said. “Sweet little puppy dog don’t deserve that hostility. Everything okay, Boss?” Agnes stuffed her red-and-green knitting project into her oversized carpetbag. The bag was nearly half her height.

  “I sent you a list of things to take care of from Happy Panda in the morning. I suppose you spoke to Mother?”

  “Yes, congratulations. Are you registered anywhere? I’m sure the staff will wanna get you something for your joined home.” That last bit was directed toward Gillian, and it took her a moment catch on to what Agnes was getting at.

  Gillian shook her head. “Um. No. It was…all so sudden. Don’t worry about getting us anything. It’s not necessary.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself, milady.”

  Gillian cringed. “Don’t call me that.” She couldn’t be that, and wouldn’t be that for long.

  “How are the three Ho’s taking the news?” Nick asked his aide.

  “The Ho’s?” Gillian asked.

  “His sisters,” Agnes said. “He calls them the Ho’s, ’cause there’s three of them and their names all start with H-O. Get it?”

  “Ho, ho, ho.” Gillian let her lips sputter. No one could say her elfin mobster didn’t have a sense of humor.

  “They’re not taking it so well,” Agnes said. “They think it’s a trick, so I expect tomorrow’s board meeting to be an exercise of self-restraint.”

  “Figures.” He turned to Gillian. “I think it’ll be safest if you stay with the girls tonight.” Nick’s voice bore a slight edge that even Gillian with her fast mouth didn’t want to parry with.

  Still, if she were in some kind of danger and it was his doing, she wanted to know what it was. “Nick, what have you gotten me into?”

  “Pet, my sisters are capricious. They didn’t actually think I’d find someone to marry and undo the mess they made. Even though the deal is done, I wouldn’t put it past them to try to do you some harm just to spite me. You’re valuable. Not just to me personally, but to everyone who follows me. You’re proof to elf magic and you’re married to the king. They’d probably sell you off to those ugly little kobolds.”

  “Hey!” Agnes griped.

  “Sorry, my dear.” Nick bowed low. “Present company excluded. Your mother was a great beauty in her day. It was wise of her to send you to me. Who knows where you would have ended up?”

  “You’re older than Agnes?” Gillian asked, stunned.

  “Yes, by several hundred years. Elf aging isn’t particularly straightforward, as you’ll learn, especially when certain elves have one parent who’s very nearly immortal.”

  “How freakin’ old are you?”

  “Old enough to know answering that question won’t endear me to you.”

  “Well, it seems you two have a lot to talk about, so I’ll get goin’,” Agnes said.

  Puffer followed at her heels and she stopped, picked him up, and gave Gillian a curious look.

  Gillian groaned. “Just take the little furry traitor.”

  “Thank you, milady.” Agnes sidled around Nick, scurried outside, and down the stairs to ground level.

  A car door slammed, and then an ignition started.

  “She’s right,” Nick said flatly. “We do have a lot to discuss.”

  “Maybe, but it won’t be tonight. Please leave.” Gillian placed her hands against his chest and tried to back him out the door, but he was like a goddamned anvil.

  He wrapped his hands around her wrists and pulled her in for a rough kiss. She felt very Scarlett O’Hara to his Rhett Butler, and stood there swaying when he let go of her.

  She couldn’t help it. The man had a knack for overwhelming her senses. She should have been given a trophy for being able to remain upright in his proximity.

  “You know, I’m within my rights to stay.” He leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms over his cashmere-covered chest. “But I’ll let you go to your petty little jobs tomorrow so you can put in your notice.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I think you’re taking this sham a bit too seriously.”

  “It’s real to me, pet.”

  “Get out. I don’t want to deal with this right now.”

  He pulled her forward by the neckline of her ugly dress and pressed one more scorching kiss on her lips that left her wheezing. Then he did that tender smoothing of her collar yet again.

  “Enjoy your cold bed, Gilly.” He traced a finger along her jaw, and although Typical Gillian would have swatted his hand away, Obviously-Ensorcelled Gillian stood statue-like, savoring the touch and leaning into it.

  Damn.

  Maybe he did have some magic she wasn’t immune to after all.

  “Don’t get too comfortable, though,” he said before teleporting away.

  She let the ominous-sounding warning settle in. Maybe she wasn’t an elf and didn’t have any magic of her own, but even she could tell when she needed to put her guard up.

  Husband or not, Nick Roth wasn’t a man to be trusted.

  Hell, she couldn’t even trust herself around him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  At around four a.m., the sound of breathing that wasn’t Gillian’s ripped her from a delicious dream about a certain blond elf and the backseat of a sleigh.

  She opened her eyes and found a pale face shrouded by green-tinged hair leaning over her bed.

  “Jesus, Kori!” Gillian sat up and tapped her lamp clumsily until the light came on. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you even find me?”

  “Uncle Nick let me in.”

  “It’s four a.m.”

  “He said I’m supposed to stay with you.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m your lady-in-waiting.”

  “Bullshit.” Gillian flopped back and covered her face with her pillow, regretting that she’d enjoyed that dream. She should have hated it. It should have been like a nightmare for her, but it freakin’ wasn’t.

  So thirsty.

  Kori picked up a corner of the pillow and said into the gap, “Really.”

  Gillian moved the pillow away. “Kori, this doesn’t make sense. If you’re at constant risk of being kidnapped, why would he have you out in the open with me when you could be safe at the pal
ace?”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger, but he said you’d be less likely to take stupid risks if I were around.”

  “Let me guess. He pulled your spell so you’re not ugly anymore, right?”

  “Not exactly. He just had it altered a bit. Now I just look like a pimply-faced dork instead of a complete ogre.”

  “Poor baby. I’m going back to sleep until five. I’ll deal with your mobster of an uncle in the morning.” She pointed to the space beside her. “You lay there.”

  Kori obeyed.

  As it turned out, Kori wasn’t actually that bad to have around. She worked the stereo for Gillian during Zumba, and when she trailed along to preschool, she helped Gillian’s assistant teacher—Terry—with the never-ending chore of escorting kids to the bathroom and helping them wash their hands.

  The kids were wary of the stranger at first, but once they discovered Kori’s willingness to play the same two songs on the ukulele over and over again they warmed right up.

  When the kids were out on the playground for their mandatory fifteen minutes of fresh air, Terry joined Gillian beneath the monkey bars where Gillian was hiding from little Gladys Shaw. Gillian didn’t believe the doctor’s note that said the child’s hand, foot, and mouth disease had gone away, and she couldn’t afford to get sick.

  Or maybe I can? Nick’ll probably give me money.

  She rolled her eyes at herself.

  I hope I’ll never stoop so low to have to ask him for it. She was used to paying her own way.

  Terry was dressed in her usual all-black ensemble with the exception of the retro Santa woodcut headscarf she wore tied around her dark tresses. Gillian had snorted at the scarf when she’d seen it that morning at circle time, and realized every time she saw picture of that holly jolly bastard, she’d think of Nick.

  She gave Gillian a nudge with her elbow. “Hey.”

  “What’s up, T?”

  “Can you do me a favor?”

  Gillian raised a brow. Doing favors for Terry always ended either with extreme embarrassment or a negative bank account balance.

  “I mean, you can say ‘no’ and it won’t upset me none. It’s just that… Well…”

  “T, just tell me.”

  For a moment, they watched silently as Kori led the kids in a high-stakes game of duck-duck-goose.

  “Okay.” Terry drew in a long breath as if to brace herself.

  Gillian held up an index finger of warning. “Wait. This doesn’t involve paranormal investigation again, does it?”

  “Oh, no! Nothin’ like that. Uh…” Terry looked back toward the school building. The director’s office looked out onto the playground. The light was off, which probably meant their boss wasn’t in there. “Can you write me a reference letter?” Terry asked without moving her lips.

  “Are you trying to leave me without an assistant teacher mid-year?”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be until next year, but I gotta pick up another gig, you know? This don’t pay enough and I gotta move out of Momma’s trailer. She’s getting married again.”

  “What’d you have in mind?”

  “I’m applying to school to learn to become a masseuse.”

  “Of all things, why a masseuse? There’s not much of a market for that here. People are too conservative. They don’t want to be touched by strangers.” Gillian added in a mumble, “At least not if they have to pay for it.”

  Terry canted her head and clucked her tongue. “You don’t think so?”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Damn it. I gotta come up with somethin’.”

  “Just tell me what to do and I’ll scribble my signature on whatever you want.”

  “I’ll figure it out. Hey, you wanna meet me at the tavern later and share a pitcher of margaritas?”

  Gillian opened her mouth to say yes, because she freakin’ needed it, then heard Kori’s giggles as she got ‘goosed.’ That reminded Gillian of a particular responsibility that would certainly get in the way of drinking away her worries. She sighed. “I can’t. I got a conflict. I picked up a third job. Sorry.”

  “Lucky.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. The uniform is ugly and my boss is a pushy jerk.”

  “Is the pay good?”

  Gillian cringed and pulled herself up to her feet. She needed to prepare the kids’ snacks. “The pay sucks, but I can’t quit.”

  Yet.

  ***

  Gillian chuckled at Kori who was gripping the oh shit! handle on the passenger side of the car. As it was only the third car ride of Kori’s life, Gillian couldn’t take Kori’s reactions personally. Most folks who knew her said that Gillian was something of a granny driver, so she was certain it wasn’t her speed that was making the child green around the gills.

  “Distract yourself from the motion of the car by telling me something,” Gillian said. “Anything.”

  “Okay. Sure thing.” Kori gulped. “Your boss is a little strange.”

  “What do you mean? And I’m guessing you don’t mean the elfin mob boss.”

  “No!” Kori giggled. “The guy in the office. Oh my gods, watch out for that truck!”

  Gillian whipped her head forward in search of the dangerous vehicle, and saw nothing—save for an eighteen-wheeler about a quarter mile up the road.

  She let out a strained laugh. The child was going to give her a heart attack. “Jeez, Kori.” Gillian pulled in a deep breath and let it out. “Do you mean Hal? And what was he doing?”

  “Well, it was just weird. I don’t have a lot of experience being around humans, but it seemed unusual he didn’t acknowledge that I was there or ask me who I was. I must have walked past the office about ten times. I know he saw me.”

  Gillian furrowed her brow and tapped her fingertips against the steering wheel as they idled at a stoplight. “Odd. What was he doing?”

  “The first couple of times I walked past, he was on the phone. From what I could hear from the kitchen, he was telling some folks there were student openings starting January and they should go ahead and bring their deposits in.”

  “What? I haven’t heard about students leaving between the terms and we teachers normally share that information pretty freely. What else was he doing?”

  “Shredding stuff.”

  Gillian shrugged. “Probably just old bills or something. Don’t tell me you’re the paranoid sort. Are nymphs prone to increased paranoia?”

  “Well, duh, we have to be, but it didn’t seem like bills to me. I may only be a nymph, but I can smell shenanigans from a mile away.”

  “Lot of shenanigans going on around you, Kori?”

  “All the time. Pretty sure my father’s love of mystery and intrigue is what got him killed.” She gripped the bar a little tighter as Gillian picked up speed going toward the edge of town where Gillian’s apartment complex was located.

  Gillian looked over at her.

  Kori had her head against the window and she fidgeted her sweatshirt cuffs. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “You can if you want, you know. Must be weird for you knowing your father was supposed to be king and here you are, what, a princess? And you’re assigned to be my babysitter? I’ll try not to let this thing drag on longer than it needs to.”

  Kori perked up and turned her luminescent face toward Gillian. “What do you mean?”

  “Your uncle and your grandmother explained some of the political stuff going on in your world and impressed on me how important it is for there to be a king.”

  “Yeah?”

  “So, we did the binding thing to make him eligible. Supposedly even if we divorce or whatever elves do when they don’t like each other anymore, he’ll still be king.”

  “Well, yeah, that’s true…”

  “I feel a ‘but’ coming on, and that kind of ‘but’ isn’t my favorite kind.” Gillian parked the car in her assigned spot.

  Kori got out, slammed her door, and shrugged her narrow shou
lders. “It’s a shame you don’t like Uncle Nick, ’cause you’re stuck with him, Gillian.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gillian started them up the stairs to the apartment.

  “What I’m saying is, while it may be possible for you and Uncle Nick to separate, he’s not going to let it happen.”

  Gillian shoved her key into the lock and pushed the door in. “I’m pretty sure there are two parties in this marriage. We have to both want to be in it.”

  “You obviously don’t know Uncle Nick,” Kori said. She crossed her arms over her the chest of her borrowed purple hoodie—Gillian’s—and leaned against the doorframe.

  “Well, obviously.” Gillian turned to look at the smirking teen and planted her hands firmly on her hips. “And that’s one of many reasons I don’t want to be married to him.”

  “I think you’ll soon learn elf men are sort of unrelenting when it comes to their partners. Maybe Grandmother can tell you about it. I hear Granddad was a beast.”

  “That whole one-sided love-at-first-sight thing?” Gillian bobbed her head toward the inside and waited for Kori to walk in.

  “Yep,” Kori called back. “And you’re his mate, which adds a whole other layer of elf angst to it all. Uh-oh.”

  “Uh-oh, what?” Gillian finished scraping the mud from the bottoms of her boots onto the doormat, closed the door, walked the four feet through the short foyer that opened into her living room, and then froze.

  What the fuck? “Kori?”

  “Yes, Aunt Gillian?”

  “Don’t call me that.” Don’t get attached. “And where’s my furniture?”

  “Smells like Uncle Nick’s been here.”

  “I’m going to kill him.”

  “Are you sure you’re not a little bit elf? Because that sounds like something an elf would say.”

  Growling, Gillian yanked off her Christmas hat and cracked her knuckles. “Nope. No elf in me, but I come from a long line of roughnecks and shysters. If your uncle wants to make this a game? Fine.” She tossed the hat onto the counter and stomped to her bedroom to see what was left. “We’ll make it a game. I think he’ll find out quickly enough that I’m not worth the hassle, and I’ll get to have my life back.”