PRICED BY MY BILLIONAIRE NEMESIS

ity that makes my stomach tighten. He stops just shy of touching me, close enough to make my pulse

ith mine, "how far would you go

hard. "You

intment? Satisfaction? Hard to tell. Adri

ast?" h

ck, chin lifting. "Just tell

. No explanations.

between us, thic

udying, like he's trying to peel away e

g payment," he says quietly. "No rea

snap. "You asked for a service I ask

scle flexing once-a warn

t inch of space between us. "Woul

my chin stays high. "If

yes d

With distaste

prise me

t scare m

ut close enough that I feel

en he speaks. "Tell me," he murmurs, and there is nothing kind in the softness. "What exactly

"You want a list," I say, "call his a

he is enjoying the fight. "I don't need a list," he says.

ipped and tight. "I showed up, I d

that," he says. The sentence i

nce from him can drag eight years ago into the room and set it down between us like

you," I repeat. "Not about then. No

ou don't. But you walked into my suite with my

I say, which is half truth,

says. "If you didn't want to be he

st did,

rifts down my body and back up again, no

tone is not subtle.

g in him like a decision. "And now," he says, his voice dropping

oughening, "for you to tell

uriatingly controlled. "Of course you do," he says. "That is

nger and which is simply pretending to be the other. "If you thi

hemisms." His eyes hold mine, and the contempt in them is worse than any w

ng in. He takes one more step toward me, so close now that I can make out the faint shadow of stubble

" I ask. My voice comes out ho

larity," he says. "I want to see how far you go for money you did not earn yet

elf and I hate the debt in the background of my mind mo

s very

al twists under flame. His mouth compresses into a thin line, and something sharp and

st. The words are soft and

rent in my entire adult life. There is a drawer already slightly open, and he pulls it fully out with the casualness of someone retrieving another weapon. A

eady knows it; he knew it eight years ago, and I doubt he ever really forgot anything, least of all that. The scrat

racticed movement, and holds it between two finger

a favor or a truce. He p

ly emotionless, stripped of even the bitter amu