A Christmas Maker: A Billionaire Romance (Makers of New York Book 3) by MK Kerrick

Author:MK Kerrick [Kerrick, MK]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-07-12T23:00:00+00:00

14

“There are things better left in the dark.” - Bex

For some reason, my imagination is playing tricks on me. The incessant knocking on my front door feels more like a dream as I squint beneath the down comforter I’m buried under. Nana Noel wouldn’t knock on my door, she’s more likely to barge in. Though I saw her in the garden when I came home, she’s more than well aware of my migraine.

Still, the knocking continues.

Shoving the comforter down, I glare up at the twirling fan on the ceiling as if it personally is the cause for my visitor. Several seconds tick by. Each drawn out as I pray whoever it is disappears. But the rapping of knuckles continues.

Getting out of bed is not on my list of things to do this afternoon, but it seems I’m left with no other choice. Shuffling out of bed and down the hallway, I don’t bother with pleasantries as I open the front door with far more force than necessary. The sunlight immediately sears my eyes, causing a pricking sensation to spread and a pouding to begin in my brain.

“Bex?” Thorin’s voice penetrates from beyond the blurry vision I’m trying to see through. His blob of a shadow moves closer, his height suddenly blocking out the sunlight from hitting my eyes directly.

“What are you doing here?” I try to sound affronted, but it croaks out of my dry throat.

“Checking on you.” He steps forward, causing me to shuffle backwards as he slips through the entrance.

He’s…here? Checking on me? I discreetly reach down and dig my nails into my palm to see if I’m dreaming, but the sharp sting confirms this is my reality. My brow furrows in confusion. “But why?”

Thorin pauses in the middle of my living room. He doesn’t look at me. Instead he takes off his blazer, tossing it haphazardly over the edge of the armrest and begins to uncuff his sleeves.

When he continues to stay quiet, I move further into the room and squint at him while I cross my arms over my chest. “Why are you here, Thorin? We don’t have any charity events scheduled until next week.” At least, I think that’s what Detrick emailed me about earlier. We’re about to slam face-first into November, with all the Christmas awareness fundraisers, charity events, and not to mention homeless youth awareness month which creates a whole slew of fundraisers done by communities and schools.

Finally he turns to look at me and says the last thing I ever expect him to say, “I’m here because you are in pain and you need someone to look after you.”

No one looks after me. Not since Mom died. Even Nana Noel wasn’t too sure what to do with a teenager, so she left me to my own devices even while giving me affirmations of love. And Dad was nowhere to be seen. I learned earlier on in my grief to look after myself.

Silently, I watch Thorin invade my home as if he owns the place, like he has a right to be here.

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