‘Tis the season of Wicked Deeds (A Holiday romance Book 1)

After Kingston gave me a tour of the house, where he told me he spent most of his childhood growing up, we reached the dining room. The table was set and lit with candles, wine, and a big traditional dinner. It’s a glimpse into their delightful culture, which I absorbed enthusiastically as Nana pointed out at all of the dishes.

There was Pastetli, which is a meat pie served with rice and peas. Sauerkraut, which is also made of meat, potatoes, and fried vegetables.

With the wine, everything tasted scrumptious. I tried every single dish, and I must say, the meat pie is my favorite.

It was as much a feast for the eyes as it was for my mouth. I wasn’t surprised when Kingston revealed his grandmother used to be a chef back in the day.

The entire dinner was a pleasant affair, filled with laughter and stories about their relatives, and some cute ones about Kingston causing trouble, which he denied. I felt a part of their family, which is such a rare and beautiful feeling, but Kingston’s grandparents made it so easy. I’ve never met such wonderful people with big hearts.

While I conversed and joked around with his family, I was keenly aware of every small touch, little sigh, and word Kingston spoke in his deep and cocky voice. He was weaving a spell around me, controlling every nerve ending in my body.

Every time his hand would skim my knees or squeeze my thigh, arousal shot through my system while I tried not to squirm or cross my thighs in desperate lust.

It didn’t help when I would catch a tiny knowing smirk on his lips.

He knew what he was doing, playing a dangerous game.

It’s only when his grandmother asked for my help in the kitchen that I could breathe without the fear of betraying my lascivious thoughts.

“Did you enjoy the food, Twinkle?” asks Nana, while placing her homemade cake on a floral plate.

“What cake is this?”

“This is Nusstorte, commonly called nut cake.”

“I haven’t heard of this.” I can’t wait to taste it; the baker in me, excited to try something new. I’m definitely getting the recipe to try baking it myself at home.

As if Nana can read my mind, she says, “Oh, it’s very easy. I’ll give you the recipe. You can add it to your shop.”

“That would be amazing, thank you.”

“These are Swiss brownies,” she tells me, pulling out another dessert made of chocolate. “We call them brunsli.”

“I can’t wait to try.”

“I’m trying so many new dishes and desserts that I can’t wait to make myself. There are customers who are always wanting to try something new.”

“I can give you a few more recipes,” she says excitedly. “Your parents must be so proud that you have your own business at such a young age.”

The mention of them brings a wave of sadness, still strong as ever, and my smile falters. I tuck my hair behind my ear as I share in a small voice, “I wouldn’t know. My parents and I have sort of drifted apart.”

She stills and frowns. “You don’t talk to them?”

“It’s been three years since I last talked to them.”

Sympathy and confusion etch on her beautiful face. “But why, sweetie?”

“Their divorce wasn’t an amicable one. I had to learn to take care of myself while they were too busy fighting or using me as a pawn in their immature games. They both eventually got married a second time and once I got into college, we talked less and less. Their new families became a priority. Unless I reached out, I wouldn’t hear from them. So, I stopped. It hurt too much.”

“Have you ever told them all this?”

“No,” I whisper, fighting tears.

Closing the gap, she wraps me in a hug until I’ve controlled my fragile emotions. Pulling back, she gives me a piece of advice in a serious yet gentle tone. “Life’s too short, honey. It’s never too late to be the bigger person and extend an olive branch. Most times, a heartfelt conversation is all it takes to fix a relationship.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“No parent just forgets about their child or stops loving them. Just talk to them when you’re ready, Twinkle. Even if it doesn’t work out, you would’ve said your piece and got closure. It’s not healthy to carry so much pain. It’ll eat away at you.”

Hugging me once more, she smiles brightly and we carry the desserts out to the living room. The men look up at the sound of our heels.

My heart skips a beat when Kingston stares at me the same way his grandfather is looking at his wife.

Like I light up his world.

As soon as I sit down beside him on the couch, he takes my hand and places it on his thigh.

“I think it’s time to open the presents,” announces Nana after we’ve taken the first bite of our desserts.

The nut cake is something else.

So yummy and gooey.

Nana picks up the box brought by her grandson and carefully unwraps it. I inch forward to see what it is and judging by the speechless expression on her face, I’d say she loves it.

“You didn’t!” she gasps. “Is it real?”

Kingston murmurs, “Yes, it is, Nana. Merry Christmas.”

“What is it, love?” asks Kingston’s grandfather.

“He got me Al Pacino’s autograph.”

My mouth drops open in shock, debating if I heard correctly. Whipping my face toward his, I utter, “How?”

“It was pure luck,” he admits, pushing my hair back. “I ran into him at a restaurant and told him how my nana is a huge fan of The Godfather and asked for his autograph. He was kind enough to agree.”

“You are very lucky.”

After his grandmother thanks him, we open the rest of the gifts. They absolutely love the ones I bought for them. It brings me so much joy that I can’t express it in words. Another hour passes where we take several pictures with each other.

Kingston and I pose in front of the Christmas tree while soft acoustic music plays in the background. He twirls and sways me to the tune, making me blush and grin.

His grandparents excuse themselves to put away their presents, leaving Kingston and me alone.

It’s the perfect time to give him his gift. So, I make an excuse and grab the small box from my coat.

He’s got the fireplace going when I return.

Sitting on the couch, he pulls me onto his lap. His woodsy scent envelops my senses, distracting me with filthy fantasies.

There’s a subtle sexual tension swirling in the air between us, reminding me of what’s to come later at the cabin. I’m already hot and bothered just thinking about it.

“Here,” I murmur, lifting the box. “Merry Christmas, King.”

His brows pull together in shock and he locks his eyes with mine. “When did you get this?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t buy you a present?” I tease.

Shaking his head in disbelief and happiness, he tears open the wrapper and lifts the lid of the box. Staring at the watch inside, he studies it for a long moment before pulling it out.

“I took a wild guess.” I’m nervous all of a sudden. I’ve seen him wear two different watches on both days I’ve been here. Thought I suspect he must have a collection. “So, I hope you like it.”

“Like?” he whispers thickly. “I love it, Twinkle.”

“Really?”

“Of course, darling. The fact you got me this makes it even more special.” Tugging me down, he takes my mouth in a rough kiss, showing his gratitude. “Thank you. Put it on me, will you?”

With trembling fingers, I grasp his wrist and replace his watch with the new one. It looks so sleek and fits him perfectly.

Using the same hand, I watch him pull out a tiny, wrapped box from his pocket. I freeze when he presses it into my palm. “I wanted to give this later but I can’t wait. Merry Christmas, my lovely stubborn girl.”

I rush to open it and almost drop it when I see the prettiest pendant ever. It’s slim and silver with a heart-shaped pearl sparkling bright. Just like the ones I have in my collection.

“When I was picking out your dress, I saw your pearl earrings and thought it would match with it beautifully.”

“Oh my God, I love it, Kingston.” I throw my arms around his neck and smack a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Can I put it on you now?”

“Yes, please.”

I twist away and lift my hair as he slides it around my neck and secures the hook. It reaches the top of my cleavage and I touch it reverently. Kingston’s gaze darkens in pure desire as he stares at me.

“I want to fuck you in nothing but this,” he growls and stands abruptly, taking me with him. “We’re leaving.”

“We haven’t said goodbye to your grandparents,” I point out when he tugs me toward the front door.

“I’ll text them to let them know we left.”

Searing me with a scorching look and a domineering kiss, he shuts down my protests, slides my coat on, and we step into the moonlight.

I’m so primed up and burning with anticipation, it’s a miracle I’m able to walk.

I hope we reach the cabin soon.

The same need must be coursing through Kingston because he walks faster.

The second the resort comes into view, his entire demeanor twists into my commanding and deviant master.

I bow my head down and follow after him like a good little slave.

Ready to serve and obey him.

My ultimate and depraved fantasy.