Page 64 of Liars and Liaisons

My hands curl into fists at my sides, and the man’s handsome face remains unchanged. He nods, barely, at Grayson before excusing himself with a slight, weirdly formal bow.

Then, it’s just us, all over again.

“Are you hurt?” he asks as he approaches, his gaze roving up and down, heating me even though I’m so angry. Maybe that’s part of why I feel like I’m on fire.

My hand lifts, tingling even before it connects with his face. The sharp sting ripples up my forearm, and a pink handprint appears on his cheek.

His head whips to the side with the impact, and he closes his eyes on a slow inhale. When he turns back, he doesn’t touch the spot, and I wonder if it could even hurt a monster like him.

“Do that again, and I might think you’re coming on to me.” His gaze darkens, and it gets difficult to breathe. “I’ll ask once more. Are you hurt?”

“No, nothing—” I blow out a long breath. “Nothing happened.”

“You attacked someone, unprovoked?”

“No, I—” My voice wavers, and I pause, swallowing over the dryness in my mouth. “I didn’t let it get that far.”

He stops a few inches from me, his eyes hot, like two recently forged emeralds. “For someone like you to jump so quickly to defend… makes me think you were waiting for an ambush.”

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek and lift one shoulder. “Why do you think I needed money?”

A muscle in his jaw jumps, and his face tightens. After a moment, he reaches for the hem of my shirt and roughly tugs it up my stomach. My abs contract with the ghost of his fingers over my skin, but I don’t allow myself to dwell.

Instead, I shift away slightly. Enough for him to notice.

“You’re angry with me,” he states, his gaze hooded. He continues pulling the shirt up, exposing my breasts in my yellow bra, and then it drags up my neck, my face, before he frees me of it.

“I have every right to be.”

“You do. For more than just this.” He takes a step back, sizing me up. “I should be making you tell me what happened and checking out that scene for myself, but… what doyouneed fromme?”

It’s not an apology, so I don’t nod or give him any indication of forgiveness. I just stare straight at his chest, the undone buttons of his shirt and the hint of the tattoo visible on his shoulder.

“Violet.”

A low, sinister hum starts buzzing beneath the surface of my skin, like a million fireflies trying to escape. It’s quickly replaced with the fear from earlier, the uncertainty I’ve skirted around since I was a kid. Since the first time I got a notice from my father’s debt collectors, telling me that they’d come for my head if I didn’t abide by their exact terms and conditions.

My stomach rolls, and I press my lips together. I straighten my back, hyperaware of the fact that I’m practically naked right now before him.

I’ve been undressed more, at his request and otherwise, but for some reason, this feels different. More real, maybe because I’m standing here, initiating contact. Like the first night we met, when I thought he was someone else entirely.

“Hazard pay.”

He tilts his head back, the look on his face part surprise and part molten desire. “What qualifies?”

“I want what you promised.”

Smugness takes over his features. “Ah. And how do you want it?”

I swallow, my pulse flickering to life between my legs. Pointing at the green velvet sofa across the room, I press my palm to his chest and start to head in that direction. He backs up with me, allowing me to guide the movements.

At the last second, the massive instrument next to the fireplace catches my attention. I veer to the left, shoving him toward the piano bench; as soon as the backs of his calves touch the wooden seat, he plants his ass there, never once taking his eyes off me.

“I’ve increased my price.”

He smiles—smiles. “Good. You’re worth far more than a hundred grand.”

For some reason, I still hesitate. Glance down at myself, the blood on my skin and the dirt from the garden. “I should go clean up.”

---