Desire: The Dark Christmases Read online

  Copyright © 2019 by Z. L. Arkadie

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-1-942857-39-6

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Also by Z. L. Arkadie

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  My legs went weak, but I managed to remain standing. I couldn’t remember if I’d already asked Jasper Christmas what he was doing there. I wanted to yell at him until my lungs ached and ask why he let me go. Why didn’t he chase me and halt my escape? I wanted to ask him if I was trash to him, someone he could discard, an invisible soul. Maybe I was to him what I was to my father—a ghost who his gaze passed through unless he needed me for something. I opened my mouth as I searched for the courage to ask at least one of those questions, but he pressed a finger over his lips and slipped into my office before gently closing the door and locking it. There was no need to signal me to be quiet. No sound could rise past my constricted throat anyway.

  “How are you?” he whispered.

  I was still lost for words, but I swallowed hard, and that helped me find them. For the past two weeks, I had been so angry at him that I’d maintained a constant headache during my waking hours. I had spent days crying on my pillow. Then that morning, I’d suddenly had no more tears to give Jasper Christmas. Rising from the ashes of my despair, I’d gotten out of bed, dressed, and dragged myself to the office. On the drive over, I had convinced myself to never think of Jasper again. I never again wanted to kiss him, touch him, or gaze into his striking blue-green eyes. I wanted him to disappear from the face of my universe. I wanted to wipe the memory of him from my experience. But now… even while the darkness under his eyes and his placid skin made him appear unhealthy, my heart pitter-pattered at the sight of him and because of his nearness.

  “What are you doing here?” I strained to say.

  He took a small step in my direction, and I shot both hands up, motioning him to keep away. Jasper stopped in his tracks. His beautiful and tired eyes were glossed over with what appeared to be confusion and a touch of sadness.

  “You don’t look well,” he said.

  I sniffed bitterly. That was the pot calling the kettle black. “You never told me what you’re doing here,” I hissed, allowing anger to be my superpower against the handsome yet heart-destroying angel.

  His frown intensified. “I hurt you.”

  I was not going to confirm the truth. Not while standing there defenseless and still in need of him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  I shook my head defiantly. I could not let Jasper Christmas trap me again. His sister had tried to warn me about him. I’d believed her but hadn’t listened. I had thought my heart was made of steel, but alas, it was flesh and blood, so easily smashed and ripped to shreds.

  “I don’t see how we could have anything else to say to each other,” I said, hoping that sounded convincing.

  He studied me as though he were reading my resolve. The longer his gaze lingered on my face, the more uncomfortable I became. The silence and the heaviness of my discomfort continued. I folded my arms, hugging myself.

  “You’ve heard about Bryn?” he finally asked.

  I was happy one of us had finally said something.

  “Yes,” I said past the frog in my throat. “Do you have any ideas where she may be?”

  Jasper’s eyebrows furrowed then released. “Did I do that to you?”

  I jerked my head back slightly. “Do what to me?”

  He kept looking at me as though he could see past flesh and bone and into my soul. His scrutiny made me feel so uncomfortable that I wanted to hide under my desk to make him stop. But then that desire passed, and suddenly I was able to really get a good look at him. The features of his face showed his stress, and so did his body. His shoulders were hunched as though he were carrying some heavy, invisible weight. However, I could smell his freshly laundered clothes, his sweet and tangy citrus-scented cologne, and the natural fragrance of his skin. The aroma had already saturated my office, and it made me want to throw my arms around him and comfort him despite what he had done to me. I was someone who prided herself on having strict control of her emotions. The variations of how I was feeling inside troubled me.

  “When was the last time you slept?” I asked.

  He shook his head, holding his pinched expression. “I don’t know. But I had to see you. I had to know if…”

  One beat passed then two. He was not going to tell me what he had to know. However, I had an idea of what that might’ve been. Over the past two weeks, I’d also continuously asked myself if what had occurred between us during those four days at the Christmas mansion was greater and more lasting than what either of us was ready for. Perhaps he had the same question, or maybe not.

  As usual, we let what should’ve been said go unsaid.

  The stillness of the moment was getting to me. “So how’s married life?” I asked, squeezing my forearms as I held myself tighter. Shockwaves raced through me as I waited for his reply.

  “I’m not married,” he muttered.

  The knot at the back of my throat expanded, and I closed my mouth and swallowed to get rid of it. “But…” I wanted to ask what had happened after I packed my things and left his house like a tornado racing across the prairie. “What about Arthur Valentine?”

  Jasper’s sexy lips tightened then released as he looked away. “What about him?”

  “He was insistent on you marrying”—I didn’t know her name—“his daughter.” I was a journalist, and Arthur Valentine was a very infamous man. I should’ve known her name.

  “I know what Arthur wants, and I know what I want.”

  Once again, I was lost for words but not emotion. Had Jasper Christmas shown up to claim me as his own? I closed my eyes, waiting to hear the words I love you. I want you. I can’t live without you.

  “I have to leave,” he said.

  My eyes popped open. Jasper had taken several steps away from me, and his hand was on the doorknob.

  “You’re leaving?” I sounded so sad.

  His glossy eyes took me in. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t be seen here.”

  I pressed a hand over my heart. “Am I in danger?”

  “No,” he stated strongly. “You will never be in danger.”

  Arthur Valentine’s daughter’s face came to mind. “Are you still marrying that woman?”

  “Julia?”

  “Is that her name?”

  He pursed his lips as he blinked at me. I’d seen that expression often enough to know that Jasper Christmas had chosen to leave my question unanswered.

  “Are you still marrying her?” I insisted.

  “I have to go.” He turned his back to me and took hold of the doorknob.

  “Jasper?” I called.

  He froze and said, “I want you to take better care of yourself.”

  His words caught me off guard, and I brushed my chee
k. “Huh?”

  “You’re not eating or sleeping, and that’s not good for your health.”

  I wanted to accuse him of calling the kettle black, but I was now overly conscious about how I looked to him. Was I unattractive? Had I lost too much weight? Skinny had never looked good on me.

  “How about you let me worry about my health?” I snapped in a voice I didn’t even recognize.

  “I would if you were doing a better job.” He only turned slightly but not all the way around to face me. “Also, keep to a steady routine. You’re being followed.”

  I gasped. “By who?” But the answer suddenly fell into my head. Arthur Valentine was having me tailed.

  Jasper turned the doorknob. “Don’t follow me.”

  “Wait,” I shouted.

  “Please keep your voice down,” he said, making sure to follow his own directive.

  Every fiber of my being wanted to defy him. I wanted to be a brat and yell, “Screw you, Jasper Christmas! You’re not calling the shots in my life.” But in a way, he was. Plus, I was not one of those girls who had learned that pitching a tantrum got me my way. My parents had done one or both of two things whenever I’d tried that crap—ignore the hell out of me or slap the hell out of me. Instead, I’d had to learn to be shrewd and smarter in order to sway people to see things my way. Jasper wasn’t giving me enough time to work on convincing him to let down his defenses. However, I had enough time to squeeze out one more question.

  “Does Bryn’s situation have anything to do with you not marrying Julia?”

  He tensed up.

  “What about Dale? Do you believe they’re both dead? Only blood was found and spread in a very controlled manner. Is that your take? Or do you have a different opinion?” Jeez, that had come out of my mouth so fast that I hadn’t taken in enough air, which gave me a slight headache. But I waited with bated breath for him to say something or at least turn around to acknowledge that I had asked what could’ve been construed as a loaded question.

  Without another word, he walked out.

  I stood there for a moment, feeling a barrage of emotions, including more heartache, which stemmed from him yet again abandoning me without assuring me of his love. I dropped back down into my seat and slumped as I sulked. I couldn’t believe I’d let Jasper leave without getting more answers. That was not like me at all. I sprang to my feet and ran out of my office, rushing toward the elevators. He wasn’t there. I stood very still, closed my eyes, and breathed in through my nose. He had never entered that area, and I was sure of it because I couldn’t smell his delicious scent. He must’ve taken the stairs, but there was no need to chase him. Jasper didn’t want to be caught, and I was positive he was long gone by then.

  My thoughts raced through all the actions I should take in order to move forward effectively with my day, ones that did not include the Christmases.

  Jimmi, an editor who I often worked for, had never run the story I’d submitted before my trip to the Christmas mansion because I had ignored his request to get one more source on record in order to back up my claims against a corrupt judge. Bringing down judges was a tricky business, and if a journalist was to take a strike at one, then she’d better not miss. I hadn’t missed, and I could’ve easily found that other source if heartbreak hadn’t kept me bedridden for the past two weeks.

  Shit, that wasn’t like me at all. Regardless, the story had never been published. And Jimmi was pissed, threatening to stop work with me if I ever ignored him again. But I was the only journalist who’d written the story, and that meant if he wanted breaking news, then he damn well had to work with me.

  Regardless, my mind was preoccupied for days. I couldn’t let go of my investigation of the Christmases, not yet at least. It wasn’t Jasper who was tethering me to them—it was Bryn. My reasoning told me her disappearance had something to do with Arthur Valentine wanting her to marry his son. The Valentines had an awful reputation.

  The Christmases’ image, even through their apparent darkness, had remained unsullied. Jasper and Bryn’s value to Arthur Valentine was as clear to me as a shot of vodka. Those of us who reported on power always knew Arthur Valentine was very much like Joe Kennedy. He would wheel, deal, destroy, and build to have ultimate power in the palm of his hands.

  But the Valentine family’s good name had been ruined. Twenty-five years ago, the family’s political aspirations were halted after the great Daniel Arroyo, one of the top investigative reporters in the world, broke a story about the deception of Conrad Valentine, Arthur’s father. Daniel had discovered Conrad’s World War II story, which depicted him as a hero, had been fabricated to score political points. It was a carefully crafted manipulation laid out in a twenty-page exposé. The report had ruined the Valentine family’s chances of ever gaining access to the highest political seat in the land, and rightfully so. No matter how many decades had passed, the Valentines’ deception would haunt them.

  But all the pieces came together in my head. I had no doubt that Arthur Valentine wanted Jasper and Bryn to be his soap, his abrasive pad that would scrub his image clean. Also, I suddenly understood why Bryn was yanked out of college after her first year. She was a bad girl, into bad shit, like drugs, fucking married professors, and even cheating on exams. Three more years of college, and she would’ve created for herself a reputation that rivaled that of Conrad Valentine yet in her own unique way.

  It dawned on me that for all those years, Bryn had been something like a prisoner held in her family home. If only she could’ve sullied her good reputation to extricate herself from Valentine’s and Randolph Christmas’s expectations. Without a shadow of a doubt, I believed the reason she had given me entrance into the Christmas world was so that I could dirty her good name. She’d wanted me to destroy her, as I had the Howsleys. However, I believed she had given up on me and that was why she’d faked her own death. Of course, I had no evidence she’d faked it, other than my intuition and experience with solid evidence. I believed she had taken the situation of never giving into expectations in her own hands. I could still help her, though. I had collected a lot of pieces of the dark Christmas puzzle during my stay at their family estate, but so far, I had no idea how to fit them together. I would, though. I wanted to.

  I thought long and hard about the job my friend had entrusted me with as I walked back to my office. My mind raced back to the day we’d first met. She had plucked me out of obscurity. It was because of Bryn Christmas that all the girls at the university regarded me with a certain level of respect long after she’d dropped out. I had never been ungrateful for all that she had given me, and I wasn’t going to start being unappreciative now.

  When I got back to my desk, the first thing I did was call the lab in California to ask for the results of the DNA I had collected and submitted two weeks before. I’d acquired DNA from the Christmas siblings along with a hairbrush that was given to me by Sally Preacher, the longtime personal maid of Amelia Christmas.

  Rich, from the lab, said he’d been waiting to hear from me. My heart sank to my feet, and my insides felt as if they’d turned to stone as he read me the results. What he was telling me made no sense whatsoever, or perhaps it made all the sense in the world.

  First of all, Bryn, Ashe, and Spencer were not related to Amelia Rainier Christmas. She wasn’t their mother. However, she was Jasper’s mother, which meant my earlier and very disturbing guess was right. Amelia Christmas had given birth to Jasper when she was only fifteen and Randolph was in his sixties. Essentially, he’d broken the law by marrying and having sex with such a young girl. That was enough information to stain their reputable image, or was it? Their story could easily spin into one of those unique but taboo love stories. I shook my head. The fact that Randolph had remained married to Amelia until the day she died made it difficult to depict him as a pervert.

  Then Rich dropped another shoe. None of the siblings shared the same maternal link, but they did have the same father. That was when my instincts blared, and I was su
re he was a pervert. I just had to prove it without a shadow of a doubt.

  Two words came to mind—Chattanooga, Tennessee. The city was one of my puzzle pieces that had no connection other than Gina, a very damaged prostitute. She’d told me she was from that place and that was where she had first met Randolph Christmas. She’d known he went to a certain house when visiting that city and had given me the address. I’d shared the address with a reporter friend and colleague of mine, Kylie Roberson, who—because she had crossed the line so many times while investigating the Christmases—had been forbidden to ever investigate them again. She had paid a coroner to defy rules of privacy. We’d all paid off sources to get classified information from time to time, but Kylie had gotten caught. Instead of ruining her career, Jasper had made her agree to stop investigating the Christmases. Hidden somewhere under lock and key, he must’ve kept the evidence that could still destroy her. I should’ve hated him for doing that to my friend, but I didn’t. All was fair in the game of the reporter and the reported. She had lost. Jasper had won. And that was that.

  Perhaps I could find something there that would lead me to the mothers of the other siblings. I had no doubt in my mind that Randolph Christmas had gone there to do some dirty business, which had more to do with sex than building his empire. I suspected that because the lead had come from Gina.

  Stimulated by ambition, I rose to my feet and turned to look out the window. Snow raced to the earth, speeding to the land just as fast as my thoughts raced. Then clarity struck me, and I knew exactly what to do next.

  Chapter Two

  Tension in my fingers made me squeeze the steering wheel while bearing down on the back of my teeth. At the moment, I was an idiot. Ambition had gotten the best of me. I’d left the office but hadn’t gone home first to pack a bag. I had been impulsive, a trait that served me well most of the time professionally. However, when impulsivity failed me, I found myself as irritated and regretful as I was in that moment.