Page 32 of Forbidden Billionaires, Vol. 9

I grabbed my suitcase and pulled it into Ash’s room.

“So what color bikini are you thinking?” I asked.

“None.”

“Oh wow. Going for another naked run down the mountain? What a beautiful way to honor Great Grandpappy Moe. The old sailor would have loved that.”

“Sailor?” asked Ash. “What was he doing storming a Nazi tower in the middle of the mountains if he was a sailor?”

“Oh, no. He wasn’t actually a sailor. He was in the army. We just refer to him as the old sailor since his nickname was Motorboatin’ Moe.” I put my face between Ash’s tits and motorboated her to illustrate my point.

She laughed and pushed me away. “I should have known that you come from a long line of perverts.”

“Aw, thanks!”

“How do you not have a million siblings?”

“Motorboatin’ Moe was one of twenty-six…” I started.

“His poor mother,” gasped Ash. She put her hand over her cooch and cringed.

“But he was only 18 when he went off to war, so he only had three kids of his own. And by the time they were old enough to fuck, the pill had been invented. So Daddy just has one brother. And I’m one of a kind.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“Speaking of the pill… Did you take yours last night?”

“Of course. Why?”

Because I don’t want you to pop out a baby in nine months and ruin our sophomore year of college.

“I just know I sometimes forget to take mine on vacation.” That was a lie.

I always took my birth control during vacation.

That was when I got the most dick, and I wasn’t ready for a little monster to ruin my vagina yet. Or ever. #StretchTheSurrogate.

“Shit. Maybe I did forget. I always have it with dinner. But last night we didn’t have dinner.

We just had a shit ton of cookies. Do you think that’s why Santa put that Plan B in my stocking?

” She didn’t seem terribly concerned by the whole thing.

Probably because she thought the worst-case scenario here was a tummy ache and some mood swings.

If she’d remembered being filled by the banana bros, she would have been freaking the fuck out.

She rummaged through her purse and pulled out her pill container. “Nope. I remembered.”

Phew! No baby for Ash!

With that out of the way, I was able to focus on my bikini selection. And really…there was only one choice. I grabbed my skimpiest black bikini.

“Good idea to wear black since it’s kind of a funeral,” said Ash. “And I think Motorboatin’ Moe would really appreciate your cleavage. I kind of want to motorboat you, and I’m not even a pervert.”

Aren’t you, though? “My thoughts exactly. Also, black is the only color that won’t be instantly ruined by bloodstains. Which is ideal for a potential massacre.”

“Massacre?!” yelled Ash. “I thought that was taken care of?”

“It is.” I hope. Even with our new alliance, there was no guarantee that Crazy Isabella wouldn’t do something crazy. Hence me planning to make us late to the tower.

“Everyone ready?” called Daddy from the hallway.

“Almost,” I called back. “Just give us a couple hours.”

“Hours?!”

“Fine. I’ll try to hurry.”

I didn’t. I had Ash try on like twenty different bikinis. And then we braided each other’s hair and played with our make-up.

Around 10:25 we finally pulled on our snowsuits and emerged. I figured that was late enough to make us miss any potential massacre, but not late enough to make me seem like a total asshole.

“Sorry, Daddy!” I said. “I just wanted to make sure I looked beautiful in honor of Motorboatin’ Moe.”

“You always look beautiful, princess.”

True.

Slavanka joined up with us in the great room – she’d gotten ready in two seconds and then gone back to play with her nesting dolls.

We practically had to pull her away from playing with her toys under the Christmas tree.

And then we all headed downstairs to the ski lift.

Since the tower was halfway down the mountain, the only way to get there was to take the ski lift up to the atrium and then ski down to the tower.

“Damn it,” said Daddy as we stepped off the elevator. Or…tried to. The line for the ski lift was so long that there wasn’t much room for us to get off. “What’s going on here?” He stood on his tiptoes to try to see over the ridiculously long line.

The Christmas music was being drowned out by all the chatter.

“I’ll check it out, sir,” said Ghostie. He walked to the front of the line and then came back a second later.

“Apparently during their morning inspection they found that someone cut the ski lift cables like 75% of the way. He said the repair is almost done. Service should resume in about ten minutes.”

Cut the ski lift cables? 75% of the way? That sounded suspiciously like step 1 of the Home Alone plan we’d come up with.

I glanced at Ash, but she had no reaction to it.

Right. She’d been on banana juice that night, so she had no recollection of anything we’d planned.

“You girls can go sit in the lounge while we wait,” said Daddy. “I’ll hold our place in line.”

Teddybear stayed in line to guard him, while Ghostie walked with us over to the lounge area.

“Did you do that?” I asked Ghostie on the way over.

“The cut cables? Nope. What kind of psychopath do you think I am? It was probably Isabella’s work.”

“I guess so.” That made sense. A full-frontal assault against our three-family alliance would be suicide.

And even if she survived it, her daddy would punish her by throwing her out of the family.

But if we all happened to perish in a tragic ski lift accident?

Isabella couldn’t get in trouble for that.

I was about to sit down, but Ghostie grabbed my wrist and pulled me against his chest. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Daddy wasn’t looking, and then he kissed me.

God I’d missed his kisses. Especially the ones all over my body.

I melted into him as he bit my lower lip.

If there had been some mistletoe above us, I would have been tempted to drop to my knees.

Ghostie pulled back far too soon, cradling my face in his hands.

“What was that for?” I asked. “You already gave me an amazing Christmas present last night.”

He lowered his eyebrows. “It was because of last night. You kissed the banana king.”

I shrugged. Yeah, I’d kissed the banana king. I’d also shoved his cock and a bunch of other men’s cocks down my throat a few times. What was the problem?

“How many times do I need to remind you?” he asked.

“Of what?”

He lowered his eyebrows even more. “That your mouth. Belongs. To. Me.”

I loved when he acted all possessive. I was definitely going to let him fuck me again later when everyone else was taking an after-Christmas-dinner nap.

I plopped down on the couch between Ash and Slavanka.

“Ghostie thinks Isabella cut the…” I started.

“Whoa! Look!” said Ash, completely cutting me off. She pointed at the TV screen over the fire.

A news report was playing on a local English-language channel. And the breaking news banner at the bottom read: SANTA SIGHTING. Ash ran over to the TV and turned up the volume. I joined her and warmed my hands by the roaring fire.

“Now let’s go to Johanna Wolfenbergerdorff, live at the scene,” said the anchor.

The feed switched from the news desk to a blonde woman on a snowy mountain.

“Thanks, Heinrich,” said the reporter. “I’m here on the slope of the Royal Spielzeughersteller Hotel where all the presents were found.”

“Hey!” said Ash. “That’s our hotel!”

“It is,” I said. “And that’s the tower where we’re headed.” I pointed to a ruined stone tower in the background of the broadcast.

“Shhh!” she hissed and leaned closer to the TV.

“But that’s not all,” continued Johanna. “One young man claims to have actually recovered a piece of Santa’s sleigh.” She waved a guy on screen who looked like snowboarding was his whole personality. “Can you tell us why you think that the debris you found came from Santa’s sleigh?” she asked.

“Yeah, bro,” he said. “It has MADE IN THE NORTH POLE engraved on it.” He held up a piece of one the steel runners we’d jettisoned when Flash hit the eject button. The camera zoomed in on the engraving and then zoomed back out to Johanna.

“Well there you have it,” said Johanna. “Presents strewn all over the mountain, and a piece of Santa’s sleigh. Proof that Santa exists? Or a publicity stunt by the Spielzeughersteller Hotel to help perpetuate the myth that Santa’s workshop was…”

“It’s not a stunt, bro,” interrupted the snowboarder.

“It’s for real. I was out here last night shredding the mountain.

And I’d just stomped the sickest stalefish when these two sleighs flew right past me.

Presents were flying everywhere. Santa was driving one of them.

And the other sleigh was out of control.

There was no driver. Just three snow bunnies wrapped in Christmas lights gettin’ some dick. It was totally gnarly, bro.”

“Ooookay,” said Johanna with a nervous laugh as she shoved the dude off screen. “Apologies for that graphic visual. Let’s talk to someone slightly more credible.” She waved a five-year-old girl over.

“Look at what Santa gave me!” the girl said with a huge gap-toothed grin. She held a brand-new doll up way too close to the camera.

“Can you tell us where you found that?” asked Johanna.

“Over there!” The little girl pointed up the mountain towards the tower.

The camera man zoomed in on some presents still littered on the mountain from our slutty sleigh ride. But what caught my eye were the people standing around the base of the tower.

One of them looked like…me. And another one had red hair. And another was definitely Daddy.

“Is that us?” gasped Ash.

“It can’t be. Right?” What kind of weird Christmas voodoo was this? First the sleigh on the balcony had disappeared, and now we were seeing ourselves on TV in a place where we definitely were not standing.

Before I could figure out what was happening, a dozen guys in yeti suits – big furry white things – skied into the top of the frame.

“Ah! Run!” yelled Ash at the TV as the yeti men all pulled Tommy guns off their backs as they approached the people at the tower. The people who looked like us.

They skidded to a stop, aimed, and fired.

The background of the news feed turned into chaos.

The impact of the bullets sent snow and rock and ice flying everywhere. Some nearby skiers fell over. Others turned and disappeared into the forest. Anything to get away from the Christmas morning massacre.

Johanna and the little girl being interviewed, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to what was happening behind them. The snow falling must have dampened the sound of bullets too much for them to hear it.

“No!” yelled Ash. “Stop shooting them!”

Ghostie put his hand on her shoulder. “Relax, Ash. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! They’re killing them!”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “This is pretty fucked up.”

“Just watch,” said Ghostie. He pointed to the screen.

They kept shooting. It was jarring to hear the sound of bullets combined with the cheering Christmas music in the lounge. I drew a little closer to the fire.

How the hell was Ghostie so calm right now? I knew he’d been in the military. But he still shouldn’t have been so chill about innocent people getting slaughtered by Crazy Isabella’s minions.

They finally stopped shooting. As the cloud of snow from the bullets started to dissipate, I expected to see the snow running red with blood. But instead I just saw…legs.

“How are those legs still standing?” asked Ash. “And what happened to their torsos?!” She dry heaved.

“It called Rasputin leg,” said Slavanka. “Happen sometime when very cold. Person lose body and leg immediately freeze.” She made her legs go stiff to show us what she meant.

“I don’t think that’s what’s happening,” I said as the snow settled more. The ground was covered in straw rather than blood. And now that I saw that, I realized that there was also straw sticking out of the tops of the disembodied legs still standing there.

The yeti men must have seen what I saw, because they all looked very confused.

“I was worried that Isabella might not get the message about our alliance,” said Ghostie. “So I had Teddybear set up some decoys.” He gestured to what was left of the straw dummies.

“Oh thank God,” said Ash. “I really thought those poor people had just been murdered.”

“Nope,” said Ghostie. “Everyone is fine. Except Isabella. She looks pretty pissed.” He pointed to a woman in a pinstripe snow suit skiing furiously towards the yeti men.

She skidded to a stop, spraying them all with snow. And then she pulled back her fur hood and shook her hair out.

She pointed animatedly at the straw dummies. To really get her point across, she picked some straw up and threw it at one of her guards.

And then she pointed down the mountain.

The guards all started reloading their Tommy guns while Isabella drew something in the snow with her ski pole.

“Uh,” said Ash. “I’m no expert on this sorta thing. But it looks like they’re making a battle plan on how to kill us all.”

“Indeed she is,” I said. “Ghostie, gather the families and have them meet us in the lobby. I have a battle plan of my own.”

He nodded and ran off. Slavanka ran off too.

“Please tell me that we’re going to the lobby to steal snowmobiles and get as far away as humanly possible from Crazy Isabella,” said Ash. She started humming a Christmas carol to tamper down her nerves.

I shook my head. “We’re not gonna run. We’re gonna end this bitch.”