“These are my headquarters on this boat,” Stetson says as he walks to the center of the room and crosses his arms and stares at all the screens.
“Headquarters?” I look over at him, my stomach finally righting itself. “You sell toys for a living as a front then or are you planning on taking over the world with a new version of Labubu?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Definitely not using Labubu’s to take over the world.”
“You do realize this closely resembles something you’d see in a Batman movie? Like in his cave?” I nod. “I always wanted a secret hide out.”
I can tell he likes this analogy.
“You’re closer than you think.”
“Come on,” I laugh then tease. “Billionaire by day and vigilante by night?”
Stetson’s bright blue gaze burns into mine, the tone in the room suddenly somber.
He still hasn’t answered. My smile falters.
“It’s a joke,” I explain.
“But it’s not,” he replies slowly. “Before I continue, I’d like to remind you that you signed the clause. And it is very much in effect.”
I can tell by the look on his face this conversation is about to get serious.
“I think you should have a seat,” he says and motions to one of the comfortable looking black leather chairs that look as though they conform to your body.
“And a drink,” he says and presses some button, and a bar pops up from the floor.
“Holy cow,” I can’t help myself.
“This is my favorite feature,” he admits and proceeds to make me another gin martini.
“I think I’m going to need something to eat,” I tell him since I’m still buzzed from the last.
“I’ll have the chef make something for us,” he tells me as he pulls out his phone and types furiously into it.
I sit in the chair and wait with bated breath. He makes the drink fast and hands it to me.
“Cheers,” he says as he captures my gaze.
We take a sip, and I stare at him in expectation.
“I don’t know if I can take much more of this suspense,” I tell him.
He nods ever so slightly, puts his drink down, crosses his arms and stares right at me.
“I’m a descendent of Nicholas Claus,” he says slowly.
“Nicholas Claus?” I repeat.
“You know him as Santa.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You’re a descendant of Santa Claus?”
I know he was a real person in history so now this makes sense. The relief I feel knowing that he’s not crazy and just an overly exuberant relative is mind boggling.
“Yes,” he says watching me closely. “But there’s more to it than that.”
