Page 141 of Power

“I have an idea,” I said, tapping my finger against my chin. “You shut your mouth. Sit there. Look pretty—which, let’s face it, is your only real talent—and I’ll work my social media magic. Got it?”

He laughed, a genuine sound that was unfairly attractive. “That’s not going to work, Sunshine.”

“Stop. Calling. Me. That.” Each word had its own special serving of venom.

“If we don’t sell this”—he gestured between us with one finger, the movement somehow both lazy and precise—“we’re both screwed. And not just us. Which, might I remind you, that’s thanks to YOU.” His voice dropped on the last word. “So, sit down. And let’s get to work.”

“This is doomed,” I snarled. “No one in the world will ever believe I am engaged to YOU.”

Especially when they all know I’d rather eat glass than touch you. Voluntarily. In public.

His lips curved into a smile that reached his eyes. “We’ll have to make them believe.” The confidence in his voice wasn’t arrogance; it was assurance. As if we could actually pull this off together.

He moved around the desk toward me, clearly expecting me to back up. I didn’t. Not one inch.

He towered over me, six-foot-something of tailored suit and barely contained confidence, and reached out slowly. “May I?”

Wait. Was Axel actually asking for my permission to touch me? That was … unexpectedly gentlemanlike of him. Also unexpectedly was my stupid head that nodded against my will.

His fingers lightly traced down my arm.

Naturally, I recoiled.

Okay,recoiledwas what I was going with becauseshuddered pleasantlywas not in my vocabulary where this demon was concerned.

“You’re going to need to work on that too,” he said, his voice gentle rather than mocking. When I met his gaze, I found warmth there instead of triumph. “Unless you want me to stop touching you altogether?” The question was genuine, offering me a choice.

“Your touch burns my skin.”In a good way.The thought came unbidden, unwanted, and definitely unacceptable.

Judging by the look on his face, he knew that was a lie.

“Then get balm,” he shot back, matching my tone with a playfulness that was impossible not to respond to. “Because when you and I go out there”—he pointed to the door, his eyes never leaving mine—“we need to sell this. For both our sakes.”

The way he said it, like we were partners in this mess rather than adversaries, changed something in the room’s atmosphere.

“I’m aware of the terms.” I swatted his hand away, ignoring the tingle that remained where his fingers had been. “I’m just making it clear that I’m officially in my own personal hell.”

He leaned down until our faces were inches apart. Close enough that I could smell his ridiculously expensive cologne. Close enough that for one insane second, I wondered what would happen if I closed the gap. The thought didn’t horrify me as much as it should have.

“Now go get your stuff,” he said, eyes gleaming with something that looked suspiciously like anticipation. “Because you’re moving in with me.”

I stood taller, meeting his gaze directly. “Let’s get one thing straight, Axel. I never meant to unleash hell or detonate a bomb in everyone’s lives, and while I’ve agreed to this fake engagement situation to save my family, I’m not letting you call all the shots. We both have blood on our hands, and we both have equal power in this arrangement.”

A slow smile spread across his face, one that suggested he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“So, yes,” I continued, “I might be forced into playing fiancée to the most infuriating man I’ve ever met, but I won’t do it quietly. When I move into your house, I promise to make your life as interesting as you’ve made mine.”

His eyes darkened with something that definitely wasn’t anger. “I’m counting on it, Sunshine.”