Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

by M. Robinson

  Until I lost his attention again. The woman leaned into him, and he angled down, giving her his ear. The conversation looked intimate. Private. Like lovers sharing a secret.

  My blood simmered. I could march right over there and make it clear, in no uncertain terms, that Magnus Falke was mine. Nothing was stopping me. Except his expression.

  Whatever she was saying made his mouth press into a hard line. His posture went rigid, and his hand flexed at his side. When he replied, I wished I could read his lips.

  A moment later, she strode away without a backward glance.

  He didn’t watch her leave. Instead, his eyes found mine as he pulled out his phone and made a brief call. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned away and jumped into a nearby conversation with two men.

  Something had happened. He owned numerous companies and was constantly acquiring, merging, and increasing our holdings. Before we arrived, he said he would be closing a few deals tonight. Had a negotiation fallen through?

  I had no interest in the business. My passion lay in rescuing wild animals. But I couldn’t do that here. I was useless in a ballroom, clumsy on a dance floor, itchy in taffeta, and mouthy in the most vulgar of ways. Literally the worst princess ever.

  But I trusted Magnus. Before the night was over, he would tell me everything that had transpired.

  “It’s impossible not to stare at him.” A woman stepped into my periphery. “He’s delicious.”

  A glance at her hourglass figure and smoky eyes set off alarms in my head. She radiated confidence, maturity, and voluptuous beauty. Everything about her reeked of danger as she openly, unapologetically admired my husband.

  “Do I know you?” I asked evenly.

  “No, but I know him. Long before he took his vows of priesthood.” She cut her eyes at me. “Before he broke them for a schoolgirl.”

  I breathed in slowly, calmly.

  Magnus had been celibate for nine years when I met him. But before he became a priest, he’d lived a hedonistic existence, fucking whomever, however he wanted, and leaving a trail of heartbreak and pain in his wake.

  Was this one of his scorned lovers?

  My stomach hardened at the prospect, and my mind swam with images of them together. Dammit, I needed her to just come out with it and tell me if she’d fucked him. I needed the truth.

  But the truth was that Magnus broke his vows for me, and if I wanted to know about his relationship with this woman, I would ask him, not her.

  “You’re right. He fucked his student seven ways to Sunday. Because he loves her.” I shifted to face her. “Jealous?”

  “Of you?” She laughed.

  Vulnerability constricted my throat.

  Raven hair swept along her chin in a perfect bob. Large breasts swelled up and out of her red gown, putting my barely-there boobs to shame. She was outrageously gorgeous. Sensually built. At least twenty years older than me. Closer to Magnus’s age.

  He preferred older women.

  Or rather, he used to prefer older women.

  Now, he only wanted me.

  With that reminder, I swallowed my insecurities and straightened my invisible crown. “You know who I am.”

  “The precious Constantine princess. Everyone knows, darling.”

  “I’m his wife.”

  Her chin dipped as she took me in from head to toe, her face pinching with disdain. “You don’t deserve him.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “I know you’re a spoiled child. Too young and inexperienced to keep a man like him happy in bed. He’ll grow bored, if he hasn’t already.”

  A man like him.

  A sexual deviant. A dirty-talking pervert. A filthy, virile beast, who fucked his student on the altar of a church. He was all those things, but how would she know? Gossip? Or firsthand experience?

  I knew all about his unsavory past and the reason he became a priest. I’d accepted it and moved forward. With him. That didn’t mean I was ready to face one of his conquests and pretend she wasn’t gutting me.

  Before I could stop myself, I glanced over at him, needing his reassurance. Except he wasn’t there. I quickly scanned the ballroom, searching for his dark hair. Where the fuck had he gone?

  I felt her watching me, pitying me with her witchy eyes as if I’d already lost him.

  Oh, this fucking bitch. The urge to toss my wine in her face was so tempting. But I’d already done that tonight and regretted it. Just because I was young didn’t mean I had to act like it. I wasn’t a child.

  Magnus had taught me everything I knew about seduction and sex. His lessons in sin were achingly thorough, potent, and hands-on.

  I didn’t need him to rescue me from this woman. I only needed to embody what I’d learned.

  Holding the wineglass to the side, I drifted into her space. She was curvier than me but also shorter by an inch. I used that inch to my advantage, pressing closer and making her chest hitch.

  Anyone else might’ve jerked away. Not this one. I didn’t intimate her. Not yet.

  “You think you know me.” I trailed my free hand up her arm, just a ghost of a touch but palpable enough to produce goosebumps along her skin. “You think I’m a spoiled brat.”

  With my mouth hovering near her ear, I let my breath flow in a caress, stroking, teasing, the same way Magnus tormented me whenever he was near.

  Curiosity kept her in place. Or stubbornness. Or maybe she was imagining Magnus’s hand, his mouth, his body heat, and this would all backfire on me. Whatever the reason, she didn’t fight me. Didn’t utter a word.

  She wasn’t just allowing me to toy with her. She was responding to my touch. I grazed a knuckle across her breast, and her nipples hardened. I brushed my lips along her cheek, and her breathing accelerated. I lowered my hand, following the curve of her hip, and her mouth parted.

  I did everything Magnus would’ve done to disarm a female opponent.

  “You think I’m an inexperienced child.” I spoke against her plump lips, my voice husky, confident. “You think I can’t please a man like my husband.” Reaching between us, I skimmed my hand across her pubic bone and circled her clit through the tight fabric of her gown. “You don’t know shit.”

  She leaned into me, seemingly unaware she was doing it as her cheek slid against mine.

  When she reached for my waist to catch herself, I stepped back.

  “Thank you for coming.” I raised my glass and smiled softly. “If you don’t have a ride home, one of my guards will escort you.”

  A sharp breath left her, and her gaze flicked around us. No one was paying attention. Except Galen.

  At my nod, he appeared at her side and motioned toward the exit. “This way, ma’am.”

  “You don’t even know who I am.” She gaped at me, appalled. “Your mother—”

  “Feel free to submit a complaint to management. Just don’t expect to be invited back.”

  She snapped her mouth shut. Then, without another word, she followed Galen out of the ballroom.

  Well, that went better than expected. Magnus would be proud.

  Where was that handsome devil?

  Lifting the wineglass to my lips, I turned in a circle and looked for him as the taste of dry, fermented grapes rolled across my tongue.

  Before I could swallow, a hand caught me from behind and squeezed my throat. Hard.

  “Spit it out.” His voice seized me, stronger and more commanding than the fingers digging into my neck.

  His bossiness compelled me to lash out. At the same time, my traitorous body melted against his solid chest at my back.

  Damn you, Magnus.

  My lips clamped together, holding the wine in my mouth.

  “Don’t you dare fucking swallow.” He tightened his grip, but it was his dark velvet timbre that cut my air. “Someone’s trying to poison you.”

  Chapter Two

  Tinsley

  Ice trickled across my scalp, and the wine turned to acid in my mouth.

  P
oison? Who could possibly want me dead?

  The woman I’d just bounced from the party?

  The governor’s son?

  The Morelli family?

  Magnus’s long line of scorned lovers?

  Basically, a lot of people.

  Fuck my life.

  I lifted the glass and spat every drop back into it.

  “Did you swallow any?” Magnus ripped the wine from my grip and passed it to one of the many bodyguards surrounding us.

  I shook my head.

  His hand released my throat, and before I caught my breath, he spun me in his arms and slammed his lips down on mine.

  All his kisses were fire, but this one was legendary, an inferno sizzling with desperation and rage. He ate at my mouth as if he were trying to suck poison from every hidden crevice along my teeth and tongue.

  I clawed at his tuxedo, my lungs burning, needing air. He gave me a sip, one gulp of oxygen, then took my mouth again, deepening the kiss, the intensity, devouring me whole.

  His arms banded around me. My heels lost purchase with the floor. It was all I could do to hold on and steal precious breaths through his passionate attack.

  “Magnus.” I sank a hand into his hair, pulling thick strands as my teeth scraped his lips. “I’m okay.”

  He grunted, beyond discernible words, beyond reason. So I gave him the time he needed. I gave him my mouth and my love, letting him know I was alive and safe in his very capable arms.

  With harsh groans, he darted his tongue in and out, feeding it to me, leading me to the gates of hell. His woodsy scent and masculine flavor burned through my veins, consuming everything in its path. I felt him in my lungs, my trembling limbs.

  His kiss turned pornographic as he fucked my mouth, grasping the side of my head, switching angles, and controlling how deeply I opened for him.

  And I died. I died in his arms, boneless and ravaged. His possession was absolute.

  Slowly, his embrace loosened, and my feet lowered to the floor.

  He rested his forehead against mine and framed my face with huge hands, panting hotly against my throbbing, abused lips.

  “Jesus, Magnus.” I searched his eyes. “What happened?”

  “Someone broke into our room.”

  “Here? In the Constantine mansion? Who would’ve—?”

  “A bottle of poisoned wine was left on our bedside table, along with an invitation to the Morelli Christmas Ball.”

  “What?” My stomach bottomed out, and my hand tightened on his nape. “How do you know it was poisoned?”

  He gave me a look, all broody and arrogant, vibrating with impatience.

  “Don’t be a dick.” I huffed. “Are you telling me you have all our food and drinks tested for poison?”

  “When we’re staying at your mother’s house? You better fucking believe it.”

  “That’s why you told Galen to make sure I didn’t drink anything.”

  “And your brother.” He traced a thumb along my bottom lip. “Your family has more enemies than I do, and evidently, some of them are stupid enough to deliver poisoned wine with a dinner invitation.”

  “You think the Morellis sneaked into my family’s estate? While we were all assembled in the ballroom?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “It’s too obvious. They would’ve left the wine without the incriminating invitation.”

  “If they poisoned you, they’d want us to know it was them. To send your family a message.”

  “Right.” I sighed. “Okay, who else do you suspect?”

  “Everyone.” He gripped my hand and stepped back, eying our security detail. “We need to go.”

  “Agreed. Let’s go home.” My pulse jumped with excitement. “We’ll fly back to Maine. Right now.”

  “No.”

  “We’re not staying here another night.”

  “Hell no. I already had our luggage transferred to the car. But we’re not leaving Bishop’s Landing until I find the son of a bitch who tried to poison you.”

  “Or you. It could’ve been intended for—”

  “The wine was addressed to you, princess.” He squeezed my hand, his gaze flickering with anger.

  “Well, shit.” My spine tingled, making me acutely aware of all the eyes on us. “How do you know the wine I spat out was poisoned?”

  “I don’t. It’s being tested as we speak.”

  “All right.” I nodded to myself and pushed back my shoulders. “I get a vote in this, and I say we go home. Fuck this place.”

  “You want to run? Hide in the mountains for the rest of your life?”

  Yes. Absolutely.

  He would never force me to stay. If I demanded we fly back to Maine tonight, he would take me. It would make him look like a coward in the eyes of my family and our enemies, but he would do it. For me.

  The choice was mine.

  “I’m scared.” I drew in a breath and released it slowly. “But you’re right. We should stay and face this head-on.”

  “There’s my brave girl.”

  It wasn’t bravery. It was my unwavering confidence in my husband. He would never let anything happen to us.

  With my fingers imprisoned in his fierce grip, he led me out of the ballroom. I passed the governor’s son—scowling in his new shirt—and the mysterious redhead—staring longingly at my husband—and a dozen others who would gladly poison me.

  Bodyguards sheltered us on all sides, hiking my heart rate. We entered the hall of my childhood home and didn’t stop until we reached the foyer.

  The men ahead of us stepped aside, revealing my mother. She stood like a regal queen near the front door, wearing a glamorous golden gown and a stoic expression.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” I approached her, taking in her stiff neck.

  “I’ve been briefed.” She accepted my faux-fur coat from the butler and draped it around my shoulders.

  As I slid my arms into the sleeves, she gripped the collar and pulled me close.

  “Don’t worry, Tinsley.” She went to work on the buttons, her voice wooden. “I’ll take care of this.”

  “The way you took care of Eliza Bancroft?” Magnus growled.

  Through sheer strength and size, he forced her out of the way and took over the task of buttoning my coat. I was perfectly capable of doing it myself, but he swept away my hands when I tried.

  “Who’s Eliza Bancroft?” I studied his dark expression.

  “The woman you kicked out.”

  “Oh. You saw her with me.”

  His fingers paused on his task, his eyes lifting to mine.

  Of course, he’d seen me. No matter how distracted he seemed, he was always aware of my every move.

  “I went over the guest list before Caroline sent the invitations.” His hands resumed, sliding deftly along the row of tiny buttons. “I made sure no one from my past was on the list.”

  No one he’d fucked.

  He didn’t need to clarify that. The apology in his eyes said it all. There was no absolution for the cruel things he’d done when he was younger. But he’d found a way to control those impulses by becoming a priest.

  Until he’d met me.

  “When Eliza approached you, I was going to intervene.” He finished with my coat and cupped my face. “But you handled her with patience and cunning, which gave me time to follow up on this other threat.”

  “You’re not dealing with this alone, Magnus. We’re a team.”

  “Yes, but you shouldn’t have had to deal with that woman at all.”

  He stared into my eyes, his expression raw and open, silently admitting that he’d been intimate with Eliza and that he regretted it deeply.

  That acknowledgment morphed to anger as he glared at my mother, his voice rising. “She was not on the guest list.”

  “Lower your tone.” Her eyes flashed. “Eliza was a last-minute addition. She owns Bancroft Holdings, and I need her—”

  “She was not approved!” he roared. “
Christ, Caroline. I can’t fucking trust you.”

  “Magnus.” I touched his arm, attempting to curtail his aggression.

  “What are you suggesting?” My mother set her jaw. “I would never harm my daughter. We all received a bottle of wine and an invitation to the Morelli Christmas Ball.”

  “Who’s we?” I asked.

  “Me and all your siblings. Except Elaine.”

  Elaine didn’t receive an invitation because she was with Lucian, the oldest Morelli son. My sister was sleeping with the enemy, and while that news had sent a shockwave through Bishop’s Landing, I knew at gut level she would never hurt me or anyone in our family. She had nothing to do with this.

  I rubbed my temples. “Has every bottle been tested?”

  “Yes.” Magnus ran a hand down his face. “Only yours was poisoned.”

  So someone targeted me. I found comfort in that, knowing my family was safe from this.

  “Tell your mother goodnight.” He shifted away to wait by the front door.

  As I opened my mouth to say a quick bye, she swept in and wrapped her arms around me.

  Whoa. Okay, so this was happening. Hugs from this woman were few and far between.

  Stunned, I stood awkwardly in her embrace. Then I remembered myself and squeezed her back.

  She felt so small and delicate. I’d forgotten how skinny she’d become after my father died. But she wasn’t breakable. Not Caroline Constantine. She was the strongest woman I knew.

  When she released me, she straightened her hair and turned to Magnus. “Keep her safe.”

  His gaze seized mine. “With every breath in my body.”

  Chapter Three

  Tinsley

  I had a lot of time to think during the car ride. Magnus spent the duration on the phone, arranging lodging, conferring with his head of security, and making plans.

  Sitting in the backseat beside him, with my hand tucked inside his, I made plans of my own.

  We had a long list of suspects. But maybe I could eliminate the most dangerous one.

  Magnus didn’t know the Morellis. He’d never met them, never so much as had a phone call with the family.