A Villain for Christmas (The Holyoake Christmas Series, Book 2)

Billie Through Diffusion

"I don't want coffee," Billie blurted out. "I– I would like to go home now. I just... think I should go home."

Away from mad directors.

And away from... him! With his lips, and his beard, and the fresh citrus smell! Did he snack on satsumas when he stepped out of the kitchen just now?!

Billie swallowed a knot in her throat.

"You're supposed to be here to–" he whispered and sort of pointed down with his eyes. "Help me."

Billie, predictably, glanced at his mouth. Oh bother.

"I can't help you!" she hissed, moving even closer to him. "I'm not helping, can't you see?"

It's like they were using the Bene Gesserit's Voice - or that language in the Harry Potter books. Billie never read the books, but Phee used to chat about them at breakfast when they'd been little.

"And I didn't check your bio!" Billie was starting to pant. "Or read up on the project! And I've always prepared for my jobs before, but I'm out of my element here, and– and I feel so– so–"

Overwhelmed. And worse so, incompetent. Which is not just 'worse so.' It's the worst!

His thick black eyebrows drew together, and he studied her.

"Cara, I c-can't– c-can't deal with this right now."

His stammer was so much more obvious now. Billie felt a pang of guilt. Against all odds, he did not look irritated with her bleating. He looked... worried. That is, if she's interpreting his microexpressions right.

"C-could you, p-please, t-t– t-try and–"

You're the one causing this, Billie.

Billie exhaled with a puff, cupped his jaw - Damn with it all. Damn Bondarenko! Damn her 'artistic vision' of the man! - and pressed her mouth to his.

His lips softly parted under hers, and his breath tickled her. Billie wanted to open her eyes - to see what expression his face would have now - but he leaned forward, and she felt the tip of his tongue brush at her upper lip, and she got distracted.

"Aren't you supposed to be making my coffee?" Bondarenko asked in the background.

Billie had quite forgotten that the woman was there in the kitchen with them.

"We are," Dair answered in a clear, sober voice - and placed a light kiss on the corner of Billie's mouth. "We're discussing the recipe."

Billie's eyes flew open. She told herself that feeling happy that the cure worked made sense - unlike being annoyed at the fact that she was just an equivalent of a lozenge. And then she saw flushed stains on his cheekbones. Maybe, it's not just you, Billie.

"Whatever gets me the brew, I guess," Bondarenko grumbled and climbed back on her chair.

Dair stretched his arm by Billie and pressed a button on the kettle.

"Alright?" he mouthed - and she nodded jerkily.

He straightened up and looked down at her. The man is the master of neutral expressions, innit? It must be his Holyoake half in action.

What could he possibly be thinking?

And then he smirked - Oh! - and tapped his finger to the tip of her nose.

"Polpetta."

"Pardon?" Billie exhaled, and he shook his head.

"Later, cara," he whispered, and his gaze brushed at her face - its lower half, to be precise. "Mannaggia..."