“I wanted to see where you live. And by the way, you’re messy.”
“Why did you want to see where I live?”
He shrugs his shoulder now. “Curious.” He looks at my wrist, at the bracelet there.
I cover it with my other hand.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he says.
“I was unpacking, actually,” I lie.
He studies me like he doesn’t quite believe me but then he drops it.
“Do you have whiskey?” he asks, turning to walk into the small living room. I’m pretty sure this entire house fits inside one room of his penthouse
I shake my head when he looks at me. “I have vodka.”
“That’ll do.”
I exhale and walk into the kitchen to get the bottle of Absolut out of the freezer. I take out two water glasses, not wanting to feel embarrassed but feeling it anyway.
I don’t have a lot of nice things. No crystal tumblers. My furniture is second-hand. Most of my clothes too. I’ve never been embarrassed by it before.
“Ice?” I ask, not turning around.
“No. Dilutes it.”
Of course, it does. He wouldn’t want that.
I pour the vodka and go back into the living room. I hand him his and when his fingertips brush mine, it makes my breath catch. It’s like electricity, that spark, and all I can think when I’m around him, when I smell his aftershave, is how he looked at me. How he touched me. Held me.
How he had his mouth on me.
I swallow my vodka in one go.
He chuckles. “Do I make you nervous?”
I try to chuckle too, but it just comes out weird. “Yeah, actually, you do.” I don’t lie. What’s the point of lying to him about this?
He takes this in. Drinks a sip of his vodka.
He looks around again. “No photos, Melissa. Not anywhere in the house.”
“I haven’t had a chance to unpack them,” I lie.
He turns back to me, swallows the rest of his drink. “You’ve lived here for years.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Why did you lie to me just now?”
“Why do you care?”
“Like I said, I’m curious.”
“Are you here because you changed your mind?”
“Changed my mind?”
“Last night. You didn’t exactly get what you…paid for.”
“No, I didn’t. But that’s on me. The debt’s cleared.”
I have trouble holding his gaze. “Thank you. I guess.”
“You didn’t expect that.”
“I don’t know what I expected. You’re not really who I thought at all, to be honest.”
He studies me. “Why are you like that?” he asks.
“Like what?”
“Twitchy. You were terrified when I touched you last night.”
I turn my back, go to the kitchen and pour myself more vodka. I drink it before I answer. “I don’t know you and I was naked in your bed.”
I face him, lean my back against the counter, force a blank expression.
Evade.
I know how to do that.
He raises an eyebrow. He’s waiting for more.
“And I’m not used to being naked in strangers’ beds. Maybe the women from your stable are but not me. I think fear is pretty natural.”
I don’t know if he’s offended by the insult. But I do know he doesn’t deserve it.
He just stands there watching me, though, his expression closed off as he sips his drink. The way he looks at me, it’s so focused, so intent, that I wonder if he can read my mind.
“I wasn’t going to hurt you. You knew that.”
“How would I know that? Because you said so? You’re a loan shark. A man who’d had me stripped and put up on an auction block. You can understand—”
“I told you you were safe. I’m a man of my word. But fair enough.”
Again, something I don’t expect.
“I know most men in your situation wouldn’t have handled last night the way you did and I’m grateful to you for that.”
“Any man who gets off forcing a woman is an animal, Melissa.”
Then even in my limited scope, animals are all I’ve known.
He walks into the kitchen, stands too close as he reaches over me to refill his glass. He remains there drinking, studying me.
He’s so much taller than me and I have to crane my neck to look up at him, but holding his gaze is a struggle so I look at his chest instead and think how much stronger than me he is. How power seems to throb around him.
I wonder what it’s like to be so powerful. So unafraid.
But it’s taking all I have to remember that he’s a very dangerous man. That any attraction I feel I need to quash.
“What are you really doing here?” I finally ask, the words somehow coming out sounding normal.
He sips his vodka and I don’t know if he’s comfortable with this strange, heavy silence but my ears are drumming with the adrenaline pumping through my veins and I need for him not to be here.
He makes me feel strange. Like he takes up the whole world when he’s in the room. Being this close to him is hard, harder than I like to admit. Everything about him from the way he looks to the way he speaks to the way he smells makes me want.
He takes his time to answer me, as if he’s collecting his thoughts. When he gets a strange glint in his eye, I know what he’s going to say next will change everything.
“I have a proposition for you, Melissa.”
I feel like my heart is going to beat its way out of my chest. “What sort of proposition, Hawk?”
“I want one month.”
7
Hawk
“What?”
She’s staring up at me, eyes huge. There’s something inside those yes. A child-like quality.
A child’s hope.
A child’s fear.
I wonder if it’s me she’s afraid of or something else. Because I got a call from Jack about an hour after leaving his office and I’m going to bet it’s that something else. Especially considering the half-packed duffel upstairs because I know for a fact she wasn’t unpacking.
“One month. With me. Like last night.”
“I don’t understand.”
“One million dollars.”
Her mouth falls open.
I wait for her to process.
“One million…That’s…” her voice trails off and she looks away like she’s trying to count it.
She gives a shake of her head and scoots under my arm. She walks into the living room and sits down on the couch to swallow the rest of her vodka. She sets her glass on the coffee table before returning her gaze to mine and when she does, it’s steelier than I expect.
“I am not a prostitute. What I did last night, I did because I had to. Because of Liza. This isn’t something I just do.”
“I didn’t mean to infer it was,” I say, going toward her. “I’m well aware of your…inexperience.”
“Inexperience or not, money for sex, it’s—”
“A business transaction. An equally beneficial transaction.”
“Business,” she snorts. “I don’t even understand why you’d want this knowing full well…I mean…after what happened last night.”
I move closer to her. She has to crane her neck to look up at me.
“You make me curious, Melissa. I haven’t felt curious about a woman in…well, ever.”
“Is it just that you’re not used to a woman turning you down? Did I damage your ego last night?”
I smile, give her a wink. If this is how she wants to play it, I’ll play.
“Maybe I just want to lick your pretty little pussy so I can hear you come again.”
She slaps both hands against my chest. “Get out.”
“So no, no damaged ego,” I continue, ignoring her.
“I said get out.”
I take her wrists, circle her arms down to her si
des and keep her close. “No.”
“This isn’t your club. You’re in my house. No auction blocks to humiliate me on!” She struggles to free herself, but I hold tight.
“No block. No auction. I don’t intend on selling you.”
“Do you even hear what you sound like?”
“I want what I want and what I want is you.”
“And I bet you’re used to getting everything you want exactly how you want it.”
I move her arms behind her back and pull her close enough that our bodies are touching. Her pupils dilate and I wonder if it’s fear or arousal. Probably a combination of both. Although the hardening of her nipples through the thin fabric of her T-shirt tells me it may be the latter.
I put my nose to her hair, inhale. She smells like me, like my shampoo. I like my smell on her.
“Don’t be so quick to turn it down. Like I said, this will be beneficial to both of us and I don’t just mean the financial benefit to you.”
“What does that even mean?” She shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t matter. I don’t…This is crazy. Just…get out.” She twists her wrists, but I transfer both into one of my hands and with the other, I tilt her face upward.
“I want you in my bed and I think you want to be there.”
“Has this approach ever worked on any woman ever?”
“I’ve never tried it before.”
Her eyes search mine.
“I’m not a whore.” Her face crumples and I see tears well in those unbelievable eyes.
“You’re the farthest thing from a whore, Melissa.”
“I don’t even know your last name.”
“MacLeod.”
“That’s not…what I meant is—”
My phone vibrates with a message. Without releasing her, I reach into my pocket and take it out to read the text on the screen:
“One share left, then you’ll have control.”
I want to smile, but what I’m doing, it doesn’t make me happy. It never has.
“What happened to dinner and a movie?” Melissa asks as I tuck my phone back into my pocket without replying.
“I don’t do relationships,” I say, hearing the coldness in my voice as I release her.
“I didn’t mean to infer I wanted a date,” she says, rubbing her wrists. The blush on her face tells me she’s embarrassed.
“I just want to be clear. This will be a business transaction. That’s all.”
“I haven’t even said yes.”
“You also haven’t said no and I’m a cup-half-full kind of guy. I’ll be back for your answer tomorrow night, Melissa.”
I walk to the door.
“You’re assuming I’m going to agree to this insane proposal.”
I just give her a wide, confident smile. “I know you are. These next twenty-four hours are a courtesy so you can wrap your brain around the fact that you will say yes.”
Her mouth falls open but she has no reply.
“Pack essentials,” I tell her. “You’ll be staying at the penthouse.”
“You’re wrong. You don’t know me.”
“I’m rarely wrong about people.” I open the door. “Good night, Melissa.”
I walk outside, take three steps toward the waiting sedan before she calls my name. I stop, turn back to her.
She pivots, bites her lip and the look on her face tells me she’s considering whether or not to speak.
“Liza,” she finally says. “Do you know where they moved her?”
I’m surprised by her question and he fact that she can’t hold eye contact tells me she’s hiding something.
Or hiding from something.
I give her a long look. “Are you going to pay her a visit? I didn’t think you two had contact anymore.”
I remain silent, keep my gaze level.
She doesn’t reply.
“Brewster Clinic. Sean Boyd took her this morning.”
Panic flashes across her eyes, just momentarily, just long enough for me to catch it before she schools her features.
“Anything else?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
I give her one more long look before resuming my walk to the car, taking my phone out of my pocket to get the details on that text.
8
Melissa
I watch him from behind the curtains of the window.
Is this even real? Did he just offer me a million dollars to sleep with him? To be his for one month?
No. This makes no sense. Not after last night.
I wonder if this is some sort of personal challenge. Maybe his ego can’t take a woman not panting for him in his bed.
The sedan disappears and I flip the single lock that still works on the front door. I go upstairs and look at my room, at the half-packed duffel, the clothes strewn here and there.
He’s right. I am messy. The opposite of him.
I pick up the clothes and hang them up or put them away in the dresser drawers, all the while my mind working.
Can I do it? Would I?
I want to tell myself I wouldn’t say yes just for the money. Although that’s a lot of money.
But there’s something about Hawk MacLeod. A thing that makes me want to be near him.
Which is ridiculous because he is who he is.
Everything set aside, though, there is one thing that will take this decision out of my hands.
I go back downstairs and pickup my cell phone. I look up the Brewster Clinic and, taking a deep breath in, hit ‘call’.
A woman answers on the second ring. “Brewster Clinic, how can I help you?”
“Hello, I’m calling for patient Liza Boyd.”
“Who’s calling?”
I assumed they’d just transfer me to her room, but this is a private clinic, I have to remember. “This is her sister,” I lie, “Josie.” I make up the name on the fly. “Can you transfer me to her room?”
“I’m afraid patients don’t have telephones in their rooms, ma’am. Visiting hours are in the afternoon between two and four and then again in the evening between six and eight. You’re welcome to come visit her then.”
“How is she doing?”
“That’s private information, ma’am.”
“Do you know if she’ll have other visitors tomorrow? So I can plan mine, I mean.” I add on.
“Well, I know your brother said he’d be back tomorrow evening but I’m not sure of the exact time.”
My throat tightens.
My brother.
No, not my brother.
Sean.
“Okay, thank you very much.”
“Have a good evening.”
We hang up and I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. I go upstairs to have a shower, knowing it will be a long night.
I go to work the next morning and close up shop in the afternoon when I leave for the clinic. I arrive a little before visiting hours commence. At two o’clock on the dot, I walk to the entrance where the glass doors slide quietly open and I enter what looks more like the lobby of an expensive hotel than a clinic.
Two women sit at the front desk taking calls. I walk up to them.
“I’m here to visit Liza Boyd,” I say, trying to sound confident.
“If you’ll sign that log there, she’s in room 218.”
That’s easier than I think it should be, but I nod and enter the name Josie Boyd in illegible handwriting in the guest log. I also scan for Sean’s name. I don’t see it, but maybe he didn’t have to register since he’s the one who brought her in.
“Is Sean here?” I ask, taking a chance.
“No ma’am, not yet. We’re not expecting him until later.”
Relief. “Thank you.” I take the stairs up rather than waiting for the elevator.
I’m anxious. What if they’re wrong and Sean shows up early? I don’t know what I’ll do if I run into him. But we’ll be in public. He can’t hurt me if we’re in public.
And if he does see me, I will go directly to the ca
sino after leaving here and accept Hawk’s offer. Sean will not be able to touch me there.
Liza’s room is half-way down the hall on the second floor. When I get to it, I don’t knock. Instead, I listen first, then push it open a little, as quietly as I can.
She’s turned away looking out the window at the sunny day.
I push the door wider and step inside, clearing my throat.
She turns, and even with her face like it is, one of her eyes swollen and sealed shut, I see the surprise on her face.
“Missy!”
It’s strange to hear her call me that. First time anyone has since I left the Boyd house. The name and the tone of her voice remind me she’s a few years younger than me. Remind me that once upon a time, I took care of her.
I close the door behind me and go to her, take in the damage. One arm is cast, her face brutalized, and I’m sure there’s more I can’t see.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She smiles and I can see it’s painful, but she tries to reach her arms out to me anyway. I lean down to hug her and feel her tears on the side of my face.
“You came.”
“I didn’t know you were in town,” I say, pulling back. “Hawk—”
“I knew he’d find you if I told him.”
“Why did you tell him about me? What are you doing with men like that anyway? And how did you find me?”
She stares up at me like she can’t believe I’m standing there. “Do you remember Julia?”
I shake my head.
“From school. She was in my grade so maybe you didn’t know her. She asked if you were out here. Said she thought she saw you.”
I don’t remember any Julia and am surprised someone remembered me at all.
“Who did this to you, Liza?” I ask, changing the subject.
Her smile vanishes. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Was it Hawk?” I hate asking it, but I have to. I hope she answers no and when she shakes her head, I’m relieved.
“I missed you, Missy. You just left.”
I think back to the last time I saw Liza all those years ago.
“You know I can’t take a chance on Sean finding me.”
Liza’s face hardens. “He found me.”
“It’s not you he’ll hurt.”
Devil's Bargain Page 7
