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He nods once and stands. The man is almost to the balcony door before I realize he’s leaving.

That thought sends a stab of pain through me. I am so damn fed up with my stupid heart. If I could, I’d break it myself simply for being foolish enough to soften for this man when my mind wants to push him as far away as possible.

“Really, Des?” I call out. “Running again?”

His eyes flash as he swivels to face me, one hand on my sliding-glass door. “You’re righter than you know, cherub. You did force me to leave you. Seven years is a long time to wait, especially for someone like me. A word of caution: I’m not leaving again.”

Chapter 6

November, eight years ago

One wish becomestwo, two wishes become four, four become eight … until somehow a whole row of beads circle my wrist.

It was just supposed to be one evening. But like an addict, I came right back to him for more. More nights, more companionship. I don’t know what the Bargainer’s story is. He has no reason to keep indulging me.

And yet he does …

I look at my beads and remember the Bargainer’s warnings.

Anything I want, you would have to give to me. Tell me, cherub, could you give me anything I wanted?

… Could you give your body to me?

I should be afraid of that threat. Instead, a restless sort of anticipation gnaws away at me.

I am not right in the head.

“What are you thinking about, cherub?” he asks.

Tonight, the Bargainer makes himself comfortable on my bed, his body so large his feet hang over the edge. The sight of him lounging there, combined with the train of my thoughts …

I feel heat crawl up my cheeks.

“Oh,definitelysomething inappropriate.” He settles himself against my pillow, sliding his hands behind his head.

Just when I think he’s going to taunt me about it, the Bargainer’s eyes move over my room. My gaze follows his, sliding over the rack of my cheap jewelry and the bag of makeup sitting on top of my dresser. I take in the posters hanging on my wall—one of the Beatles, another a black and white picture of the Eiffel tower, and that dumbKeep Calm and Read Onposter. My textbooks are piled on my desk, alongside my mug and cans of tea bags.

Dog-eared books, clothes, and shoes litter my floor.

I feel young all of a sudden. Young and inexperienced. I can’t imagine how many women the Bargainer has visited, but I bet their rooms looked far more mature than mine, with my thumbtacked posters and sad little tea set.

“No roommate?” he asks, noticing the foldout chair I have situated where another bed should be.

“Not anymore.”

She moved in with her friend, who’d been placed in a single and wanted a roommate. I was both disappointed and relieved to see her go. I liked the companionship, but the two of us hadn’t really hit it off. She’d been funny and chirpy, and I was …troubled.

The Bargainer gives me a pitiful look. “Struggling to make friends, cherub?” he asks.

I wince. “Stop calling me that,” I say, sliding into my computer chair and kicking my legs up on my desk.

Cherub. It makes me think of fat baby angels. That makes me feel even younger.

He just smiles at me, really making himself comfortable.

“What even is your name?” I say,

“Not going to address the friends issue?” he asks.