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“Women don’t get involved in business.”

“But a woman’s touch softens everything. Maybe even you.”

He raps his ring against my desk and gives a curt nod. His leaving signal.

When the door clicks shut behind him, I spin my chair around to face the window. The glow is still radiating from the side of the museum and Antoin’s parting words are ringing around my ears.

Maybe even you.

I let out something between a grunt and a laugh into the silence.Hell will freeze over before Marcus Murphy’s daughter softens me.

Poppy

“Get up. We’re going out.”

There are only two scenarios where I hear that gruff voice. The first is when the Devil visits, and the other is in my nightmares.

I happen to be in a dreamless sleep, so I pop an eye open.

The Devil is staring down at me, amber eyes glowering in the morning sun. Despite my groggy vision, I can see how handsome he looks. The razor-sharp outline of his bespoke suit, not a single curl escaping his pulled-back hairstyle. The smell of expensive aftershave, leather, and man waft down towards me.

When I get further away from my state of sleep, I come to my senses, tugging the duvet up to my neck. “Out?” I croak, blinking rapidly to wake myself up. “Where?”

“Don’t ask questions. Just get ready.”

His jaw ticks but I match his hard face with a scowl. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I snap, rolling away from his looming silhouette.

Bad idea.

He rips the duvet from my body in a motion so quick that it could be its own wind energy source. There’s nothing but my thin nightie between my body and his hungry gaze. “What did I tell you about talking back to me? I’d bend you over my knee and spank you, but you enjoyed it too much last time.” His fingers graze against the hemline of my nightie, leaving a blazing trail of fire on my skin.

Goddammit, body. Why do you go into meltdown every time he touches you?!

I only swing my feet over the bed and leap up to get away from his wandering hands and my conflicted emotions, not because he told me to. His eyes follow me around the room, and when I turn to him, hand on hips, his gaze falls to my mouth, then below my collarbone. My nipples stiffen at the attention. “Where are we going?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest as if it’s the most natural movement in the world.

“None of your fucking business,” he growls, “Get dressed. Look pretty, and keep your mouth shut. Got it?”

A cocktail of fear and fury swirls in the pit of my stomach. I can’t trust the Devil as far as I can throw him—and by the way he makes this room feel ten sizes smaller, that’s not very far. The voice in my brain is telling me it’s a trap, but the early morning sun warming my cheeks, and the small wisp of a breeze swirling in from the small, child-friendly crack in the window is begging me to reconsider.

I follow the voice that got me far away from Boston in the first place. The one that always tries to protect me. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say simply, putting some more distance between us. “Not unless you tell me exactly where we’re going.”

A rumble comes from deep in his chest, one that doesn’t sound human. But I raise my eyes to his. Challenging him.

Why are you going toe-to-toe with the Devil?The sensible voice chimes in again.

I hate that I know the answer.

Because I enjoyed the last punishment he dealt me.

There’s a mild pang of disappointment somewhere deep inside of my loins when he grits his molars together and glances at his watch. “You know,” he says, through clenched teeth. “I’ll tell you this one time, because I don’t have time today for this back and forth. But mark my words, China Doll,” he purrs, closing the gap between us until I can feel the silk fabric of his tie against my chest. “I’ll be sure to punish your disobedience later.” My knees are close to buckling under the weight of his words. “I’m taking you to meet a few clients. It’s collection day and I need a woman’s touch.”

Clients. Collection day.Buzzwords that snap me right out of his intoxicating spell and bring me back to my reality with a heavy thump.

Collecting who?

Because it seems that I have ‘debt’ written across my forehead.

“No chance.” I’m unable to keep the wobble out of my voice as I try to dart past him and into the bathroom. But he’s too quick and too strong. As he wraps his arms around me and the floor disappears underneath my feet, I immediately regret my decision.

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