Page 97 of Devil's Claim

“Because I need to make some changes.”

Every scowl he gave me had an entirely different effect than I knew he wanted. I was filled with excitement instead of discord. Plus, I wanted to pinch his jaw on purpose. Maybe it was something I shouldn’t do tonight.

“We agreed to twenty thousand a month. That’s in addition to the salary I’ll be making at Morales-Torres Enterprises.” I used the real name of the company on purpose.

“I am curious. What will your salary be?”

“Two hundred thousand dollars a year plus benefits.” I returned my attention to the paperwork, biting back a laugh when I heard a slight gasp.

“You should have asked for more,” he said, which surprised me. “You’re worth much more.”

Hesitating with my pen in the air, I wanted to believe what he said, but why should I? I was sitting in a gorgeous restaurant negotiating a contract for what could be a good portion of my life. Even in my jaded world, that didn’t make for a trustworthy atmosphere. “I’ll ask for an increase when I prove myself.”

“I’m certain you will.” He laughed. “You’re a tough lady, but remember, this is a world you know nothing about.”

“Nothing?” I asked, scribbling another note. When I lifted my head, I noticed he was looking at the paperwork, obviously curious what I knew. “Are you certain about that?”

As he’d done before, he leaned over the table and it felt as if he was trying to intimidate me. We’d gone way past that at his point. So I leaned over as well, unfortunately, until our lips were almost touching. I tried not to allow it to bother me.

Even if my nipples instantly hardened, my stomach clenching. “I know your main source of income is in illegal drugs. If I had to guess, you import from other countries, organizations you hire to produce the product. You’re the middleman.”

“Is that right?”

We were far enough away from people that I didn’t feel concerned someone would overhear us, but I tried to keep my voice low. “Yes, that’s right. I don’t see you owning sweat shops producing the coke. That’s beneath you. However, my guess is you do cut the finest quality rock from time to time. You then turn around and sell at a premium to very influential buyers, the kind of men and woman who pay highly for quality and anonymity. If I had to guess, I’d say you’ve toyed with selling illegal weapons but find it distasteful. How am I doing so far?”

He lifted his hand, bending his fingers and shifting his arm closer. However, he stopped just before caressing my skin.

I arched my back in response, daring him to try to kiss me.

The moment lingered for way too long. Now my heart was thudding against my chest. I had a feeling he knew exactly what he was doing to me but chose to pull away.

“Clever.”

“I read. I pay attention,” I countered. “Am I right?”

He took a deep breath before answering. “You are.”

I was the one to breathe out the hot air he’d just consumed. Hearing confirmation of the truth should bother me, but I felt more elation that I was right than anything else.

“Doesn’t that frighten you, Christine?”

“Should it? I doubt I’ll be handling the fine powder. You won’t allow me near it, not that I’d want anything to do with that side of the business. And Maverick is never to know. Never.”

“No, you are correct and I wouldn’t dream of allowing Maverick to learn anything about our business. Finish going through the contract.”

Was he filled with amusement or annoyance? I couldn’t be certain. I continued going through the contract and the entire time as I turned from one page to another, a heavy weight fell on my shoulders. I was really doing this. I was selling my soul to get back at my father. Was that really the only reason? Was I that vengeful that I wanted my father crushed like a bug?

Or was there more to this?

The verbiage was straightforward and made a mockery out of a marriage.

We’d live in the same house.

We’d have a joint bank account.

We’d sleep in the same bed.

We’d eat regular meals together.