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He frowns. “Are you here to ask me for money?”
I groan. “I can't believe you. You think I'm here to ask you for your money?”
“What are you here for, then?” he growls. Yes, growls—like an animal. “Get to it. I don't have all night for this shit.”
“I'm here because I want—” I pause, rolling my lips, because now that it's time to say it, I don't know if I can.
I once trusted this man completely. Now, I'm not so sure.
I'm not so sure that he will keep me safe from the bloodthirsty monsters that want to devour every inch of my spirit even as they tear into my body.
“Well,” he urges impatiently.
I can feel myself trembling on the inside. Anxiety is beginning to claw at my guts, at my chest. I want to vomit.
It takes very real effort, even though I've had years and years of practice, to slide that plastic mask in place. I say simply, “I want to make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“The kind where we both get what we want.”
four
Olympia
“I don’t know why I’m listening to this,” Cole mutters as he moves through the open space into a large kitchen, around a chunky island with a blonde butcher block top, to the fridge. He pulls it open and reaches inside, retrieving a beer. I watch as he pops the top, tossing the cap into the sink with a clink before touching the rim to his full mouth. The man tips his head back, and I watch his throat work as he swallows. Chugs is probably a more appropriate word for the way he empties nearly the entire bottle before he lets it hit the island countertop with a loud thud.
Folding my arms over my chest, I give him a moment to work through his man-trum. It’s not like I didn’t surprise him at his home in the dead of the night, an unwelcome blast from a past he’d obviously put behind him. I’m the spilled can of worms he had no intention of ever opening. I can give him a minute to catch-up.
Leaning my butt against the arm of his couch, I fold my own arms as I wait him out. It takes a few minutes as I watch him process my sudden presence in his life, and the fact I have no intention of exiting as stealthily as I came. His dark eyes lift to travel over the length of me, and at the frustration I see in them, not an inch of my flesh heats. I think it’s the first time it’s ever not heated under his gaze, and even though my heart aches at the fact, I think maybe it’s for the best. Like I said, he holds no affection for me, so it’s high time I douse the torch I’ve held far too long for him in the icy, dark depths of the sea, where there will be no threat of it ever reigniting.
He cuts his eyes from me with a smirk that can be described only as bitter, before he tosses back the rest of his beer. It hits the counter a second time loudly, before he lets both his big hands connect with the surface, leaning into it. I tell myself I don’t notice the way the muscles bulge in his arms at the motion, but of course, I’m lying.
His head falls between his shoulders, chin nearly touching his chest. “What do I have to do to get her will?”
The way he asks—the broken sound of pain in the crack of that last word—makes me feel like a shitty person for holding this over his head to make him do what I want. But without it, he’s already proved he won’t help me. If his reception had been kinder, more welcoming, and I felt I could trust him not to feed me back to the vultures of our families, who would gladly strip me of flesh and spirit, I’d hand him that will tomorrow.
But he hadn’t met me with open arms or kindness. He’d met me with anger, hate, hostility, and disgust.
He doesn’t want me here, but I have nowhere else to go.
I lift my chin, steeling myself against the guilt I feel creeping in. “I want fourteen months.”
He lifts his head, confused eyes locking on mine. “What?”
Pulling in a breath for bravery, I explain, “I’ll be twenty-one in fourteen months.”
His brow furrows. “What happens at twenty-one?”
“I get my inheritance. I also get the shares of Laurier Lines that Grandma Laurie left in trust for me.” I scoff a bitter sound as I say, “It’s like she knew she couldn’t trust my father—but she couldn’t hurt him by cutting him off completely.” When I realize I’m straying from what’s important, I get quickly back on track. “Laurier Lines has an office here in L.A. I plan on interning over the summer and beginning school this fall.” Here comes the hard part. It’s made harder by the intense way the man is looking at me, listening to me—absorbing me. “I will live here, with you, for fourteen months. I also want—I want people, our families, specifically, to think we’re together.”
“Define together.” His arms are still bracketing his body against the counter, muscles flexed, dark eyes impossibly hard. If it weren’t for that ticking muscle in his cheek, I’d think his jaw had turned to granite.
“I want them to think I’m yours. Completely. Like I said before, I want you to tarnish my reputation. For them to think we’re—that I’m—um?—”
“Fucking me?”
My. Cheeks. Ignite.
