Curse of Christmas: A Collection of Paranormal Holiday Stories

by Thea Atkinson

  Angela’s lips hovered in an ‘o’ of non Comprendre.

  “It was a joke.” When her expression didn’t change, he added, “I thought maybe we were playing twenty questions?”

  “Oh.” Angela swatted at him, giving a tinkled laugh that didn’t quite reach her still confused stare. “I see I shall have to keep my eye on you.”

  “You do that.” He nodded with a smile. “And while it was lovely meeting you, I fear my young lady requires refreshment.”

  Before either Angela or I could protest, Benjamin’s arm tightened across my back and led me away.

  “That was a little rude,” I said, once we were out of earshot.

  “Yes, well … I’m not here to keep Angela entertained. My job is to ensure you have a good night. And you’d begun to look as though you’d rather be somewhere else.” Benjamin nabbed a flute of champagne from a passing silver tray and handed it to me, grabbing a second for himself. “Now, tell me, why have you come here tonight when you’ve been tense since the moment we stepped through the entrance?”

  Because I have no choice. Because my father will probably disown me if I falter in my dance steps to his tune any more than I already have. “I thought being an escort meant you just nodded and smiled in all the right places …” … while warding off letchy exes who can’t accept I’ve moved on.

  He chuckled. “Sorry, Cole, but you should have booked one of the less refined options if you wanted a date without a brain.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said.

  “I know. Just teasing.” His arm slid tighter around my back, his fingers hooking over my far hip.

  I ignored how good it felt to be held when I hadn’t been in so long.

  Chapter 2

  For almost an hour, I avoided detection by said ‘letch’ before he finally caught up with me. As I stared at one of the auction pieces, my head tipped to mirror Benjamin’s beside me, the chill along my left side warned of Tony’s arrival.

  His chest brushed my arm, lips infringed on my personal space, and breath sweated my ear with his whispered, “Figured out what it is, Cole?”

  Benjamin shifted in my periphery, and a step brought him to face me in a way that spoke volumes, especially with his left hand claiming my waist. “Can I help you?” he asked.

  Tony’s smirk faltered for a second, before his smarmy façade reclaimed his face. As though Benjamin hadn’t even spoken, he turned to me. “I didn’t realise you were bringing a guest, Cole. You should have said.”

  “I did …” Though I attempted to hold steady, my gaze averted from his as fast as it connected. “… to the name on the invitation for the R.S.V.P.’s.”

  His head immediately snapped up and round, eyes searching the room—probably looking for Belinda Watton, the event organiser, so he could let rip about being kept out of the loop.

  From his dark, oily hair, his cool green eyes, to his lean body perpetually draped in the most impeccable fabrics, just the sight of Tony Lawson set my teeth on edge, and I wondered how I’d ever stomached him for the six months I had. If not for my father’s encouragement—more like demands—for me to make it work, I’d have dumped the slime-ball within the first hour. When he told me he intended to tame me and ensure I carried his offspring, because between the two of us we could create beautiful people to continue the Lawson Legacy, I should have dumped Champagne on his head.

  Pity my calling off what he considered to be a written-in-stone engagement hadn’t dampened his ideals. For the past three and a half years, the arse had continued to treat me like his personal property while following a whole different set of rules for himself.

  “Is Jackson here?” Tony’s gaze swung back to me, his mask once more in place, but his even tone couldn’t disguise the intent of his words. He wanted to know if my father approved of another man escorting me to a social event. “I haven’t seen him anywhere.”

  “He couldn’t make it.” Hence the reason I’d been forced to represent the all-important family name. “He sends his apologies, though.”

  “He should have mentioned if you had no one to bring you.” His clammy hand touched my shoulder—until a nudge of my body by Benjamin broke the contact. “I could have saved you—”

  “I don’t need you to save me from anything, Tony.” My teeth ground. “I’ve moved—”

  “She’s always a little tetchy at the beginning of the evening.” Tony smiled in Benjamin’s direction, thumbing toward the rear of the room. “Bar’s that way. I always find a few Chardonnays help loosen her up. Be a pal and get some down her for me ...”

  What sounded like a low growl rumbled from Benjamin.

  “And as for you, Cole?” Tony’s knuckle chucked my chin. “I’ll come find you later.”

  As he sauntered off with his cloying air of self-importance, Benjamin glared after him, the muscles in his jaw rigid. “Who. The hell. Was that?”

  My nose wrinkled beneath my grimace. “My ex. Dumped for being a dick.”

  “With a capital D. Is he always like that?”

  I gave a small nod. “Pretty much.”

  Benjamin set his honey eyes back toward me, and the tension provoked by Tony’s presence seemed to fade from my shoulders. “No wonder you look as though you’d rather be anywhere but here.”

  I stared up at him, nerves dancing in my stomach. He stood close to me—even more so when he ducked his face toward mine, and his lips skimmed from my cheek to my ear.

  “Stay close to me,” he murmured. “I’ll protect you.”

  For the following ninety minutes, I gave Benjamin the reins. Each time his arm stiffened around my back and steered me in a different direction, I didn’t once question his decision. It wasn’t as though the room held anyone I had a desire to speak to, anyway. Besides, the glimpses I caught of Tony each time gave more than enough reason for me to trust Benjamin’s instincts.

  Five further accosts, and a few Martini’s later, Benjamin drew me to stand behind a glass sculpture that resembled a screwed-up wad of cling-film. “This place is beginning to drive me crazy.”

  Not half as much as it bothered me, I’d have wagered.

  “My entire role balances on my ability to ensure a woman has as pleasurable an evening as possible.”

  My eyebrow arched up. I’ll bet.

  “Not like that.” He ran a hand through his hair, blew out a breath. “I feel like I’m failing you.” His frown made me believe a Benjamin failure had never happened before. “Listen, Cole. How much longer are you expected to show your face here?”

  My father’s orders from a week before clanged through my head: ‘You will go to the charity auction, young lady. No argument. It’s high time you accepted the family name and what that entails. And you will represent the family name for the entire evening. Do you understand me?’

  I also recalled my meek response.

  With a heavy sigh, I grimaced up at Benjamin. “Until it ends.”

  He growled—actually growled—at me.

  “Tell me, Benjamin.” I folded my arms. “Do you usually complain to your date about where she asks you to escort her?”

  “No.”

  “Then—”

  “But my date doesn’t usually look as though she’d rather be prying out her own fingernails with pliers than socialising with a bunch of shallow-minded folk who haven’t quite mastered the art of smiling with their eyes.”

  “They—”

  “You’re better than these people, Cole. Let me take you somewhere else. Somewhere I can prove to you that a night out with me can be enjoyable.”

  “I …” can’t. I sighed as it dawned on me how much his offer appealed, even if the words had described my life to a T.

  He continued to gaze down at me, expectancy and hope gleaming in his eyes, and I knew there and then he’d never understand my reasoning.

  Rather than try to explain, I took my usual coward’s route. “Excuse me. I have to go to the ladies’ room.”

  Coral tiles, pine di
sinfectant, and a bouffant of ash-blonde hair greeted me as I pushed through the door into the toilets. The woman poked at high strands that resembled wire wool as she leaned over the counter, puckering her red lips at the mirror. She barely even offered a glance my way as I ducked past into the first cubicle.

  I closed the door and leaned back against it. Beyond the barrier, footsteps clopped to the exit, telling me the bouffant bird left, and as a heavy sigh heaved my chest, my lids lowered.

  What on earth had made me think an escort would simplify the evening? Why the heck had I listened to Kellie and her stupid idea? More than that, why couldn’t the agency have sent a pretty boy who simply looked good on my arm and knew when to keep his opinions to himself?

  For as long as I could remember, I’d never gone against my father’s wishes. Nothing had ever seemed solid enough to fight for. Though, the older I grew, the more independent I became, and the more breaking free dangled like bait waiting for me to snap it up in my jaws. I barely understood the hold he seemed to have—not just over me, but over Mother, too—so no way would a stranger comprehend my life.

  I rolled my eyes at myself as they opened. Why did it even matter when I wouldn’t see Benjamin once the night ended, anyway?

  I doubted he’d agree to a second event with the Parade of Pretentiousness.

  I checked my watch as I spun and hiked up my dress. Only nine-twenty—meaning I had at least two more hours before I could acceptably leave. Urgh.

  The bathroom door swung with a suction-like pop, and heels clipped into the room. I tracked them to the sinks, only half-registering the second shove of the door.

  “Lois, darling.”

  Lois Cambridge could have single-handedly kept Tiffany’s in business with the bling she forever flashed. The speaker—Clara Edington—held little more appeal with her pandering to the wealthy in a bid to snare a rich husband.

  I sent a silent prayer of thanks that I’d been enclosed prior to the entrance of those two.

  “Did you see him?” Clara asked, her voice taking on a conspiratorial edge.

  “See who?” Lois’s voice dropped to an exaggerated whisper, as though joining in some kind of secret game.

  “Your ex. I swear I saw him earlier with Cole.”

  Say what?

  “My … ex?” Either Lois hadn’t recently split with anyone, or she’d split with so many she had trouble figuring out which one. “Sorry, who?”

  My question exactly.

  “That hunk of yours you brought to the Mardi Gras fiasco last month ...” An event I had managed to wiggle out of. “… You know, the one with the golden hair and muscles to die for?”

  My entire body stiffened.

  “What was his name again?”

  Please don’t say it, please don’t say it …

  “Benjamin?” Utter shock dripped from the singular word. “Benjamin’s here?”

  Though Clara didn’t verbally respond, I imagined her smug nod of satisfaction.

  “Benjamin’s here?” Lois asked again. Silence followed, then, “Oh, crap.”

  “Oh, darling. Bad breakup, was it?”

  “Um … not … really.” Lois couldn’t have sounded more uncomfortable—and the realisation of what capacity she’d been with Benjamin that night sent a wash of horror through me. “Benjamin … and I were … barely together long enough for … um …”

  “Pity. The guy’s yummy. Darling, you must say hello.” A clop of a heel followed—like poor Lois had been yanked forward. “And who knows …” The bathroom door squeaked open. “… he might even be pleased to see you. Goodness knows, Cole’s barely in his leag—” The door whooshed shut.

  My lips popped open in the ensuing quiet, hanging there a split second. “Oh, Christ—Benjamin.”

  The bathroom stood empty when I flew from the cubicle, and I dived through the door, landing myself amongst the minglers of the toilet passage with less dignity than a spread-eagled turkey.

  “Excuse me.” I shuffled between two of my father’s acquaintances while hoping like crazy they wouldn’t stall me to talk.

  I could imagine the scene if Lois reached Benjamin first, could picture the knowing glances she’d send me. She’d know I’d hired him. Worse than that, she’d know no obstacle stood in her way of flirting and would no doubt attempt to score for herself.

  No way could I tolerate that for an entire evening. The socialite bongos would spread the gossip faster than a bushfire. Cole’s Date Stolen by Lois—Hear All About It!

  Please be where I left you.

  Worst case scenario, I thought, as I peered over shoulders and dodged bodies on my way to the cellophane sculpture, if Lois and her cheerleader got to him first, I’d just stroll right on past and make a hasty exit alone.

  I caught the flash of golden curls, right where I left them—him. Yes.

  As though he sensed my approach, he turned, and as his gaze swung around until it connected with mine, his lips started to curve before quickly twisting into a frown.

  Did I look that flipping harried?

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, the second I reached him.

  Grabbing his arm, I yanked him to follow without breaking stride. “Time to go.”

  “What’s he done?”

  “Who?” My eyes scoured every inch of the room for possible ambush.

  “That idiot ex of yours.”

  “What?” I glanced back at him, almost stumbling as I rounded a deserted chair. “Oh—not him. I’ll explain. Let’s just get outside first.”

  Chapter 3

  A blanket of white covered the pavement, but Benjamin’s hands at my elbow and waist helped keep me upright. I explained the hasty escape, his steps lengthening with each revelation until we’d rounded the corner and stood out of sight of the building’s entrance.

  He tucked in a wayward hair poking from my hood and tickling my cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Hazard of the job, I guess.” A gust blew beneath my dress, freezing my bum cheeks and making me wish I’d worn tights instead of stockings, and a huge shiver wracked my shrug.

  “You’re freezing.” He opened his jacket, unzipped his inner pocket, and retrieved his phone. “I’ll call for the car.”

  After the asphyxiating atmosphere of the gallery, of the sheep flocked within there, the fresh night air hit my brain like a dizzying drug I couldn’t quite get enough of, and I found myself reaching to stall him. “Not … yet.”

  “Okay.” He smiled, slipping the mobile back in. “What did you want to do?”

  I shrugged, my palm lifting along with the action. “I’ve no idea.”

  “Well, maybe we should at least walk. Keep your blood pumping … while we decide what to do.”

  “Not much to do.” I took his offered arm and allowed him to tuck me in close to his side, following his lead when he stepped down off the kerb and into the road. “If I go back in there with you, they’ll be waiting to pounce. If I go back in alone, they’ll think I’ve been dumped mid-evening, and Tony’ll turn into his usual drink-fuelled-paw-monster. If I don’t go back at all, my father’ll go absolutely nuts in the morning.” I blew out a breath as we climbed the opposite kerb onto the pavement that ran the length of the local park. “No matter what I do, the evening’s a mess.”

  “And it’s my fault.”

  “That’s not what I mea—”

  “Maybe not. But it’s still the truth.” He ducked as though to shield me, as breeze-provoked flakes tumbled down from an overhanging branch. “How about you let me make it up to you?”

  Foot hovering mid-step, I peered up at him.

  He chuckled. “Not like that.” His arm unhooked mine and slid around to my back, nudging me forward with gentle persuasion. “I meant, you should let me show you the kind of evening you could have had.”

  “You really like to earn your keep, don’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Tucking my hands into my coat pockets, I smiled.

  For a handful of
beats, we didn’t speak, merely wandered our way along the footpath, snow crunching beneath our feet with each step. My mobile weighed heavy in the clutch-bag I had wedged beneath my right arm, and the temptation to call a taxi and slink home beckoned. The mere idea of joining Kellie in a PJ-and-chocolate fest, curled next to the radiator while watching a crappy horror, almost had me snatching the phone out … until reality kicked in—and with it the realisation that the second I got home, I’d have to hear all my father’s voice messages on the answer phone. I’d never told him I had a mobile for good reason.

  On top of that, I’d have to hear Kellie’s tirade about my stupidity at turning down the chance for a half-decent night.

  “Okay.” My nod fuzzed my hair beneath my hood. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Ever heard of Flunkies?”

  I laughed. “I’d have to say not. What is it?”

  “The. Best. Doughnut. Bar. Ever. And it’s open all night.” His face peered beneath my hood. “You game?”

  “Hmm, let me think … doughnuts … how far?”

  “Other side of here.” He wrapped his fingers around the bars of the wrought iron gate to Mersion Park.

  The entrance squawked a little beneath the nudge of his hand with no bolt or padlock to hold it secure. Beyond the poor barrier, patches of snow coated the ground. More shrouded the enclosing hedgerow that stood sentry alongside the fence and prettied the trees, turning what could have been downright creepy into a winter wonderland, as each crystallised droplet sparkled in the dotted lamplight.

  I halted. “Why do we need to go through the park?”

  He shrugged. “We could go around.” He pointed off to the right, toward where the end of the street and the park perimeter faded to shadow, too far away for any kind of clear definition. “But the park’s a shorter route. And the paths will be gritted.” He turned back, his gaze travelling from my feet to my face. “I figured it the fastest route.”

  I drew in a deep breath, peering once more into the abandoned plot. Nothing within set any alarm bells a-ringing. Certainly, nothing about the man beside me did—and hadn’t since the moment he’d collected me from home. “Okay,” I found myself saying, “lead the way.”