Page 162 of Enthrall Ecstasy
“Take this as your chance to wipe the slate clean. Avoid prison.”
“They’re the kind of people you don’t piss off.”
“Neither are we.”
“I’ll never feel clean.” He nudged the coffee mug away and then changed his mind and brought it closer. “Tell me I won’t regret this.”
“Doing the right thing can feel like the wrong thing sometimes. That’s your conscience.”
“I don’t know…”
“This is enough money to wipe out your debt. You’ll be able to move back to London. Be near your kids.”
He let out a sigh. “God knows what they’ll do if they find out it came from me.”
“We’re good at what we do.”
“Clearly, but…”
I reached for the contract as though I’d changed my mind.
“Come on, man.”
“Who were you sent to photograph at Enthrall?”
He sat back.
“Talk,” I said. “Tell me who you’re working for.”
Our swords clashed.
We went at each other hard backwards and forwards like we meant it. My épée bent against Cameron’s chest guard. I leaped into the air and pumped my fist.
I’d won the match.
I wore a grin behind my mesh mask.
I’d finished Cole off with a swooping flèche.
We lowered our swords, bowing to each other. With that gesture, it was safe to rip off my mask.
Cameron pulled off his, perspiration spotting his brow, his hair disheveled.
The fight to the death of egos was over.
Though I’d wanted to dive right into business, Cole had insisted we fence first—as though life could wait for the drama.
Being at Cameron’s Beverly Hills home was a good way to get rid of the bad taste left in my mouth after seeing Darryn Amara this afternoon at that L.A. diner.
Money. A great influencer. It made people like him be willing to break the law.
“Being pissed off suits you.” Cole gave me a wry smile.
He swaggered over to a corner table and laid his sword across it.
Finding the time to fence had been challenging with our conflicting schedules.
Maybe he needed this, too—a respite from life, burning out the tension with some elegant violence.
