Page 117 of Stranger to Love

"I don't particularly care what you meant," I interrupted, pulling her just an inch closer so she had no choice but to absorb the ice in my gaze. "I told you that you are mine. That means I own your smiles, your body, and your bratty little attitude. But it also means I own your burdens. I own your stress, your exhausted nights, and yes, your family responsibilities."

I leaned in until my breath brushed her lips, watching her eyes darken with a delicious, total submission.

"When I took you as mine, I didn't just take the parts of you that are fun to play with, princess," I whispered, tightening my grip just enough to elicit a sharp gasp. "I took all of it. Your mother’s recovery is my concern because it concerns you. Your father’s peace of mind is my priority because it affects you. If you ever try to 'give me my time back' by pushing me out of your life again, I will be very, very displeased."

"I’m sorry," she rasped, her trembling fingers catching the hem of my cashmere jumper, anchoring herself to my weight. "I just didn't want to be a burden."

"You couldn't be a burden to me if you tried, darling," I murmured, allowing a fraction of my warmth to return as I stroked her cheek. "You are my investment, my property, and my heart. Now, stop trying to manage my schedule. I have already arranged for a local catering firm to drop off dinner for the weekend, and I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a few... upgrades for your mother's comfort."

I sealed the lecture with a firm, possessive kiss—a total claim that left her breathless and entirely undone.

"You aren't going anywhere, and neither am I. Am I clear, Alex?"

"Yes, Carrie," she breathed against my mouth.

"Good girl." I released her neck with a lingering stroke. "Now, I believe a delivery should be arriving in about ten minutes. Why don't you go check on your mother while I handle the door?”

Ten minutes later, the delivery technicians arrived. I directed them up the narrow stairs, supervising the transport of the large flat boxes and toolkits. When I glanced up, I saw Alex peeking out from Karen's room, her face a perfect portrait of defensive confusion.

I walked past her, kissing the top of her head to keep her quiet, and stepped into the bedroom. I turned to the technicians, my voice cool and absolute. “Make it quick, and try to keep the noise to a minimum.”

As they began to unbox the 50-inch slim-profile screen, Karen stared in absolute awe.

"Caroline," she sighed, her voice thin with immediate anxiety. "This really is too much."

"Nonsense, Karen," I replied smoothly, stepping to the foot of the bed. "If you're going to be stuck in bed, you might as well have a decent window to the rest of the world. Consider it a prescription for your recovery."

The technicians worked with silent, practiced efficiency, mounting the screen flush against the wall. But as the crystal-clear picture flickered to life, I noticed Karen's expression drop. A single tear tracked down her cheek, disappearing into the edge of her oxygen mask. Her hands were trembling against the duvet.

"Caroline," she rasped, her breath hitching in a way that immediately caused Alex to tense beside me. "It’s beautiful, it really is. But... you have to take it back. Please. Send them back with it. Alex, tell her. We can’t afford this. We can’t accept things we can't pay for, and Phil... your father will have a fit when he sees the bill. We're already behind on the—"

My chest ached slightly for her, though my expression remained perfectly polished. This wasn’t ingratitude; it was the conditioned panic of a woman who had spent thirty years counting pennies, terrorised by the spectre of the next bill.

I bypassed the technicians as they exited, sitting directly on the edge of the bed. I took Karen's trembling hand in mine, adopting the calm, authoritative tone I used to settle panicked students before a massive examination.

"Karen, look at me," I commanded gently. "There is no bill. There is no payment plan. This was bought and paid for before it even entered this house. Phil won't have to spend a single penny, and neither will you."

"But it's too much," she whispered, her working-class pride warring with her sheer exhaustion. "We aren't charity."

"This isn't charity," I said, slanting a quick, dark, possessive look toward Alex that her mother could not see. "This is family. I look after what belongs to me, Karen. And whether you like it or not, I’ve decided that includes this household. Now, you can either spend your afternoon arguing with me—which I promise you, you will lose—or you can let Alex find you a film while I go see about the dinner that’s just arrived."

Karen looked at me, entirely stunned into silence by the sheer velocity of my conviction. She finally leaned back into her pillows, defeated in the best possible way.

"I'll be downstairs," I said, smoothing my cashmere as I stood. "I believe the catering firm has arrived with enough roast lamb to feed a small army."

Descending into the kitchen felt like entering a different world, but I quickly set to work. I packed the fridge tight with premium, pre-prepared gourmet meals, organising the containers with methodical care. The freezer followed. By the time I was finished, this family would not have to think about the cost of groceries for at least a month.

I walked into the lounge to find Alex standing dead in the centre of the room, looking as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She was staring at the wall where their old, dust-covered television used to sit. In its place was a massive, sleek black entertainment system, reflecting the cheap, multi-coloured fairy lights of their small Christmas tree in the corner. It was a striking, beautiful contrast—a piece of my world, anchored firmly in hers.

"The delivery men were happy to take the old one to the recycling centre for you," I said casually, stepping up behind her.

She turned around, her eyes swimming with tears. "Carrie... the fridge. The TV. My Mum. I don't... I don't know how to be the person who receives all of this."

I stepped directly into her space, cupping her face in my palms. "You don't have to be anyone, Alex. You just have to be mine. Everything else is taken care of."

But the panic in her throat was still rising, a defensive mechanism she used to fight off the vulnerability of being cared for. She pulled back, pacing the room, gesturing wildly.

"Carrie, you don't understand. My Dad... he’s not going to like this. He’s going to walk through that door and he’s going to feel small. He’s worked his whole life to provide for us, and you’ve just... you’ve just fixed everything in twenty minutes with a credit card. He’s proud. He’s insanely proud. He’s going to think you’re showing off, or worse, that you think he’s a failure. He’s going to tell you to take it all back!"