by Misty Dietz
When Spencer had likewise taken his blade, Michael nodded. “I am glad you are unwilling to abase yourself before The Dark One. Now I suggest you gird yourselves in earnest for the coming All Hallows Eve, for one of Lucifer’s first line children is snarling at the Seam.”
He was gone in the next instant.
“What Seam?” Nate yelled, knowing the archangel would hear him, but wouldn’t answer.
“I bloody well loathe when he drops in like that. Makes me feel knackered for upwards of an hour afterwards.” Spencer drained his brandy and stood up, slightly unsteady on his feet. He pointed his Xiphos at the stack of forms and financial statements on Nate’s desk. “You want, we can get that pile of rubbish quelled in no time.”
Nate looked down at his own sword. The forged metal was truly a work of art. “I shall finish on my own. I only plan to be here for a little while longer anyway.”
One side of Spencer’s lips tilted up. “Sordid rendezvous?”
He was not going there right now. Spencer and everyone else who worked at TERRA would find out soon enough there was something extracurricular going on between he and Jessie. A stroppy wave of anticipation hit his chest. “Anything else you can think of that we need in place before we open on Friday?”
Spencer shook his head, his hand on the door handle.
Nate leaned back in his chair. “What do you make of Michael’s ‘snarling at the Seam’ rhetoric?”
“I don’t doubt that we’re in for something major. It’s been ages since there’s been a massive fissure between Earth and Hell. Alexios has made mention of it as well.”
Well, blast. Nate frowned.
One side of Spencer’s lips tilted up. “Belt up and do enjoy yourself this evening, mate. But should you fail to pull your weight around here on the morrow, I’ll ensconce you in the sanctorum myself. We need all hands on deck and tallywhackers in their trousers to face a threat like a Seam rending.” When Spencer opened the door, the sound system’s sudden blast sliced through the silent office like a Xiphos through a demon’s carotid. Violent and messy. Spencer raised his voice accordingly. “Katherine speculates that we’ve had it too easy for too long now. She believes it’s only a matter of time before the balance of power shifts. I happen to concur.”
Spencer left before Nate could respond, but it didn’t matter. He’d sensed the disturbance, too.
He only hoped he had at least one night with Jessie before the Earth splintered.
Chapter 8
Jessie parked at the foot of the long driveway that led to Nate’s old-world, Palladian-windowed stucco and stone home. Though she’d passed several other massive homes in this exclusive neighborhood on Lake Minnetonka, Nate’s felt completely secluded with woods on all sides except for the lake behind his home. There wouldn’t be a shortage of places to hide dead bodies around here. Hell, you could club someone, tie a concrete block to her ankles, and chuck her off the dock if you didn’t want to risk Lyme disease by heading into that forest of creepy-assed trees.
Wow, Jessie. No more crime documentaries for a month.
Or at least a week.
Would he let her watch TV? He certainly wouldn’t keep her like a prisoner here, would he? She’d need to stop at Mason’s to make sure he was keeping Scourge alive. Where would she sleep? Sex was one thing, but she would insist on having her own room for bedtime.
And if he tried to confiscate her phone, she was so out of here.
Jessie unbuckled her seatbelt, reached over, and shoved the mace from her glove compartment into her zebra duffel bag. She put her hand on the door handle…
And sat there like a halfwit.
She couldn’t believe she was…selling herself. Selling her body for security. For her future goals. For love—Gramma and Grandpa were worth it.
But they would die if they knew.
She closed her eyes and breathed in and out slowly, trying not to think about how all of this seemed like something her mother would have done.
Stop with the slut-shaming. Just get out of the car and walk up to the door like you’re used to multi-million dollar mansions.
She might as well enjoy this…experience. Sure as hell would be a memory she could relive her whole life.
Or take to an early grave.
She almost peed her pants when her phone rang at top volume. She fumbled in her purse to silence the damn thing. Emily. She let her best friend’s call roll to voicemail, then set her phone to silent mode. She hadn’t figured out how she was going to explain her erratic schedule—or behavior—to her family and friends this week. Which was absurd, right? It couldn’t be because she’d had so much time to think about all this since his indecent proposal seven hours ago.
Gah. A girl needed to be street smart if she wanted to play in back alleys.
Or wealthy, secluded neighborhoods with alluring, albeit mysterious men.
Jessie sent Emily a quick text. Sorry, can’t talk now. Working on my bucket list. Will call tomorrow. You wouldn’t believe the houses on Lake Minnetonka. Especially… She texted Nate’s address to Emily to let someone know where she was.
Jessie grabbed her things, locked her car, and practically ran up the well-lit driveway before she could reason or scare herself out of it. Hopefully he had a nice fireplace stoked somewhere inside this mini fortress because she was shivering, and it wasn’t all due to the brisk evening air.
She wished now she’d worn something less body hugging. Something with more pieces so it would take longer to strip. Then again, that would only delay the inevitable. Maybe she should’ve worn her hair up. That would have been more elegant. Man, this was going to be so unbelievably awkward.
No, it’s just you, Jessie.
A foyer light came on before she had a chance to press the doorbell. Her arm descended to her side as the enormous wooden door swung open.
“Hi.” Nate’s smile was beautifully evil. He’d changed into a long-sleeved, black silk shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. It would feel like heaven on her skin. When she spotted his bare feet on the tile floor, she wet her lips.
“Hi.”
He stepped back to let her in, closing the door softly behind her, the sound like the low groan of her mother’s funeral casket as they sealed the rubber gaskets for the last time. He took her coat, his eyes darkening when he observed her red cashmere sweater dress. It was one of her power outfits, and Lord, she needed it tonight.
“You look incredible.” His twinkling gaze lingered on her neck and cleavage before tracing her belly, hips, and legs. “Would you prefer I call you Jessica?”
One side of her lips lifted and something unwound a fraction in her chest. “Kinda late to be asking me that, isn’t it?”
“You’d be surprised how late in the game things can change.”
“Is that what this is to you—a game?” she asked.
“I’ve always faced life as though it’s a game instead of some dreary road to endure. Games are fun, and I do so like to have fun. But I think you’re really asking if I’m going to be a scoundrel, are you not?”
She shrugged like it didn’t matter one way or another, but her chest had constricted again. “This arrangement is purely business.”
“Business, you say?”
“Yes, business. And if you turn out to be a reprobate, I will adjust my behavior accordingly.” Oh crap, she had a feeling that was going to come back to bite her. From what she’d learned about him over the last six weeks, he wasn’t a bully. But the truth was, she knew her Gramma’s internal medicine physician way better than this charming playboy she was about to live with—intimately—for a week.
Her stomach rolled as she unzipped her beloved, beat-up duffel bag. When she extracted a folder, her mace tumbled onto the tiles and rolled to his feet. He leaned down to retrieve the weapon, but she quickly snatched it up, then shoved it to the bottom of her bag, her face a blast furnace. She blew out a breath and looked up to see him watching her. He’d gone very still.
She hand
ed him the folder, willing her outstretched arm not to shake. “The contract is notarized. I’m pretty sure Katherine thinks I’m scum of the earth now.”
He took the folder and set it down next to a vase overflowing with white roses on the half-moon shaped table. “Katherine’s displeasure is directed at me. You have nothing to fear when you’re with me, Jessie.”
Oh, yes I do. She was plenty afraid of her inability to stop thinking about him. To stop the truckload of shame about prostituting herself. She was a law student about to break the law and become just like her mother all in one night.
Scars are nothing to be ashamed of Jess. They prove you’ve been out there risking, growing, living. People who sit on the sidelines don’t get scars. Grandpa Walt’s words after an epic knee skinning from a bike accident when she was nine.
Scars that would linger from selling a piece of her soul charted a whole new territory, however.
Nate tilted his head, his gaze going shuttered. “I mean that. I will keep you safe from all harm.”
That comment should be odd, right? What were they even talking about? Again, she had the strange feeling he was referencing a bigger picture—one she couldn’t see. But maybe it didn’t matter? Her gaze dropped to the floor, because she could only look into his eyes for so long before she completely lost her train of thought. When he stepped closer, her whole body responded. A hot flush spread through her chest, down her groin into her legs. She suddenly wanted to place her own bare feet on the cool tiles to feel the contrasting sensation.
“Jessie.”
She looked up, caught by his earnest tone, so at odds with his usual swagger.
“I will earn your trust.” He ran the backs of his knuckles down her cheek as his eyes stared intently into hers. “I promise that we won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” He dropped his hand as a wry smile formed on his lips. “In fact, perhaps I’ll make you beg for what you want. Would that make you feel better?”
Yeah, no? How the hell was she supposed to respond to that when her body was already on fire, yet he’d barely touched her? It was the anticipation. A sick mix of unease and the thrill of the unknown. She hadn’t realized she was such an adrenaline junkie.
Then again, maybe it was just Nate.
“Jessie.”
“Yeah, sorry, but I’m not really into the whole begging thing. I’ll simply tell you if I don’t like something.”
He finally smiled. “Very well. I’m glad you’re here.” She held her breath as he leaned in, but he only pressed a kiss on her cheek before ushering her further into the foyer with its large curving staircase. The interior walls were a smooth, oyster gray stone. They gave off a feeling of warmth, bathed as they were in soft shades of light from a lovely, but understated chandelier that hung two stories above them.
Nate put his hand on the ornate iron staircase rail. “I thought I’d give you a moment to explore the upstairs on your own. Select whatever bedroom you like.”
She nodded, unable to find her voice, immensely relieved that she’d have some privacy. He pushed his hand into her hair by her ear, his fingers rubbing strands of her hair together.
Don’t think. Just feel.
“I love your hair down like this. So soft it makes me want to feel it whisper across my skin.”
“I was…thinking the same thing about your shirt.”
His mouth found her ear, his words warm and electric. “I’d like that very much.”
Her hand came up to rest on the black silk when he took the duffel from her grasp. It thwapped softly to the tiles. His heart beat as fiercely as her own under her fingertips. She slid her hands up to his shoulders, feeling every shift of his muscles under the thin, responsive material. His head bent closer, his stubbly cheek rasping against her temple. “Of course, as much as I welcome and heartily encourage such candid admissions, I feel obliged to point out that your comment wasn’t very businesslike…”
She froze, and his body shook with silent laughter. A moment later she shoved out of his arms. Good grief, that business comment had come back to haunt her much sooner than she’d expected. “You are so—”
“Fresh? Fun? How about irresistible?”
All of the above. “Don’t kid yourself. I was going to say Machiavellian.”
He put his hands over his heart with a brazen smirk. “What? I haven’t begun to show you that side of me yet.” Then his hands dropped, and he gently grasped her wrist with a predatory smile. “What other big words can you beguile me with?”
She snorted. “You’re a difficult man, Nate.”
“Most definitely.”
A wee shiver raced through her at his low laugh. She reached down for her duffel and turned toward the stairs. Nate caught her arm and brought her around in slow motion. Her pulse roared in her ears at the dark mystery in his blue eyes. He was going to kiss her. It was going to be carnal and she would have trouble stopping him and they’d have sex right here in the foyer in front of the door and she would hate—
But he dropped her arm and stepped back, and the wave of disappointment barreling through her must have been humiliatingly obvious. Still she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
Damn him for this…this…whateverthehell it was.
“Find me in the kitchen when you come down.” He moved toward the hallway, then paused, his voice gruff when he spoke over his shoulder. “Don’t keep me waiting, Jessie.”
Damn you, you sexy, arrogant man.
She would love to make him wait.
Damn her, too, because she knew she wouldn’t.
Chapter 9
The first room Jessie entered—and quickly exited—was Nate’s, she realized instantly. The rectangular fireplace and massive bed wrapped in gray, ivory, and mink were both warm and inviting, but she couldn’t bring herself to claim it, though she had a feeling it would have pleased him.
The man seemed to have no boundaries. Even though they both knew why she was here, putting her things in his room was too intimate. Which didn’t make sense when they were going to be doing much more intimate things with each other.
But whatever. She was going with her gut.
Jessie poked her head in the next room. It was red, and though it wasn’t garish, it didn’t feel right either. She continued down the hallway. Each room had its own color palate, its own feel. Obviously he planned to make this type of arrangement often, with as many different flavors of women as the rooms themselves.
Don’t think. It was going to be her mantra this week. If she could put herself on autopilot and make it to next Saturday, her whole year would be set.
Small sacrifice, really. If you could refer to sleeping with Nate as a sacrifice.
She stepped into the room at the end of the hallway. Oh, wow. She could spend the rest of her life in this room, which not only boasted the most sumptuous white bed she’d ever seen, but a movie-star ivory bench in front of a glass wall. She crossed the carpet to the curtains. It was now nearly pitch black outside with thick clouds obscuring the moon.
She turned back to the room. Every bedroom had a fireplace, but this was the only one besides Nate’s that was already lit. She shoved the contents of her duffel bag into the deep drawers of the glossy brown dresser before she could think too much about it, then put the bag itself in the bottom drawer and closed it.
Then opened the drawer and took the bag back out.
The zebra-striped duffel with hot pink straps was the only thing she’d wanted for her sixteenth birthday. To her young heart, it had symbolized independence and adventure. Her mother Aurora had gotten her everything she had thought Jessie needed. Appointments at the beauty and tanning salons, a juicer, and a memory foam sleep mask.
But Gramma Tillie had come through with this humble bag, which she loved nearly as much as she loved Scourge.
She decided that her bag would sit there—defiantly bourgeois—in this lavish room all week. It would remind her of home. Of where she came from and where she would return when this crazy i
nterlude with Nate was over.
She walked into the bathroom to find heated floor tiles and all sorts of expensive toiletries lined up like obedient servants on the counter.
It was simply lovely. And she was so out of her league.
Jessie smoothed her hands down her hips. She’d chosen this red cashmere dress because it camouflaged her flaws while highlighting her breasts. But what did it really matter when he’d probably strip it off as soon as he had her in his arms?
She needed confidence, however, and right now, she’d take what she could get.
She glanced at the French door leading to a private, upper floor deck. An electronic chirp sounded when she opened the door and small twinkling lights switched on to reveal a cushy seating area and a lit stairway. She braced her arms on the balcony and peered down the stairs through the faint light of the cloud-obscured moon, trying to trace the curving path that presumably led to the lake.
She jumped back from the railing when a sudden clipped scream made the hairs on the back of her neck rear up. She’d spent plenty of time in the Minnesota woods with Emily’s family over the years to know that many animals were active at night. Nate’s house was part of a subdivision, yet its forested seclusion made it reasonable to think the scream had come from a nocturnal creature. Yet…
It had sounded so human.
Another scream echoed through the darkness. Closer this time, followed by a rapid squeak like a small critter apprehended by a silent, creepy thing with fangs, black fur, red eyes and…
Stop. She was acting fanciful. That was definitely not like her at all.
She held still, listening to the late-season crickets, the wind straining against the pine boughs, and the occasional plunk from the lake. Her gaze swept across the shadowy silhouettes of the towering trees. A rolling tightness crept into her gut. Was there something approaching the path from the right? The shadows seemed more concentrated there. The air heavier.
