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He chuckles. The sound is surprisingly warm, deep. It rolls through me, leaving a trail of wanting in its wake. My hands tighten on the gate. The wet wood is a necessary contrast to the heat I can’t seem to get rid of since our encounter in the spa. That heartbeat of a moment where I felt beautiful and sexy and desired.
“This has nothing to do with liking or attraction. It’s a practical decision.”
“For two people who don’t like each other to get married to satisfy the requirements of an asinine clause?”
“I have something you want.”
I can’t help it, can’t stop my eyes from drifting over his shoulder to Grey House. When I came back after I graduated college and took up residence in the cottage, it had nearly killed me to see the house every day. To remember which window I sat at with my mother when a winter storm lashed the town. To close my eyes and envision sitting on the balcony off my parents’ room as spring drifted in and warmed the wood beneath me. Aside from Dessie, it’s the one thing I have left of my family, my childhood.
And now it’s within reach. But Gavriil lied. The price is not reasonable. A year with him is a very steep cost.
“I’m sure there are any number of women who want something you could give them.”
“True. But none of them have something I want, too.”
My skin grows cold beneath the warmth of my wrap as his grin flashes white.
“Which is?”
“Your name on a contract swearing you’ll never write a poisonous word about Drakos Development again, or you’ll forfeit ownership of Grey House back to me.”
I rear back before I can stop myself. I knew there had to be more to this proposal. Hearing him state it out loud, as casually as if we were discussing the weather, infuriates me.
“You’re trying to bribe me.”
“No. I’m offering an incentive.”
“You’re splitting hairs, Drakos,” I spit out.
“Call it what you want, Grey.” The amusement vanishes, replaced by the steely-eyed businessman I’ve heard so much about but never witnessed firsthand. “We both know your research for the past four years has revealed no wrongdoing on my part. You have nothing but a vendetta against my father, driving this relentless campaign against my family. The fact that I have to offer you anything to get you to back off and leave us alone is a testament to your lack of professionalism.”
My lips part in shock. I flounder for a moment as his words stab straight into the heart of my doubts and insecurities.
His smile returns, but his eyes remain hard.
“So accept my offer. Live a life of luxury and glamour. Give your pen a break. Move back into your childhood home.” He looks back over his shoulder. “You’ve wanted it for years. It can be yours again.”
I bite my tongue. I’d heard rumors and firsthand accounts of what made Gavriil so good at what he did. The man has a knack for identifying people’s deepest desires and then making them happen. Easy to do when so many want money, or something money can buy them, and he has it in abundance.
I never would have thought myself capable of accepting any deal. But...
“What’s holding you back?”
His voice is silky now, dark and tempting. I avoid his gaze as I stare at the familiar pillars and curves of Grey House. I can’t tell him what’s truly holding me back. I don’t want to share that fear is making me pause: Fear that he’s right and I’m incapable of letting go of my vendetta. Fear that if I accept his offer, I’m giving in to someone who may not be the monster I imagined him to be, but still represents so much of what I don’t like about this world. Fear that if I don’t, I’ll never have another chance like this to solidify Dessie’s future.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and stifle a groan. My alarm reminding me about the social at Dessie’s facility. Catherine told me Dessie’s been sleeping more and more. Each day that passes when she can barely get out of bed, when her legs collapse beneath her and she won’t use the walker or wheelchair, spikes my fear higher and higher that she won’t come back from this.
Dessie...
My eyes snap back to the house. An idea appears. One that is most definitely selfish, as it will give me something I want even as it solves my most pressing problem. But one that also gives me back some of the control I’ve lost.
“Will this be in name only?”
A corner of his mouth twitches. “No sex required.”
It shouldn’t bother me how easily he agrees to no sex.
Whatever.