Page 12 of Crushing Clover

“You can’t make me take her, old man.”

“Our bargain comes with obligations. This gift is one of them.”

“I agreed to all of the terms in the contract you drew up. It didn’t mention this.”

“You’ll keep her for the next six months, until the loan is repaid in full.”

“Or what?”

Lines of irritation bracketed Warren’s mouth. “Or I sell the building, and you go back to your meager beginnings.”

“We’re only a few months away from paying off the loan, and you’re going to tack this on as a condition? Now?”

Warren picked up the tumbler on his desk and sipped at the amber liquid—feigning a calm control belied by the tension in his frame. “Interest rates fluctuate. It just so happens thatyourbank is a little more creative than average.”

The knee I was sitting on disappeared as Saint John rose abruptly from his seat. I slid to the floor and landed with a hard thud. The taste of hot metal filled my mouth, and the pain in my tongue felt like I’d bitten a chunk from it.

“I won’t take her,” Saint John said coldly, looming over his side of the desk, and also me.

I scrambled to my feet and tried to get out of the way before someone took a swing.

“Your choice.” Warren picked up his cell phone and typed something before holding it to his ear. “Susan? Yes, I have a piece of property to put on the market.”

“No. Stop.” Saint John slammed his hand down on the desk, making everything on the heavy wood surface rattle.

Warren put his hand over the phone. “Six months.”

“Six months,” Saint John agreed murderously.

I stayed as still as possible.

Half a year with a man who obviously despised me even though he didn’t know me? It sounded like a nightmare. Andwhat would happen to me after that? Maybe that was the nightmare I should be more worried about.

As much as I detested Warren, I’d been lucky to end up here. Things could have been far worse.

Without a word of explanation or warning to the woman on the phone, Warren ended the call. Saint John stared down at the phone as though he were crushing it with his mind.

“What’s the point of this?”

“The point is that you do as I say.”

The two of them glared at each other. What was their deal? This felt far more personal and complicated than a simple business relationship. Were they enemies? Family? They looked nothing alike except maybe in the sharpness of the jaw, but genetics could be weird like that.

“Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“That’s going to be next to impossible,” Saint John objected.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” The tension between them was as chewy as cheap steak. “Don’t hesitate to make use of her.”

“Just what I’ve always wanted.” Saint John’s tone was acerbic enough to dissolve an inconvenient body in a barrel.

“Maybe it’s exactly what you need.”

“Being left alone would be even better, but I guess I’ll never have the pleasure.”

Warren sniffed in irritated amusement. He tossed back the rest of the alcohol in his glass as Saint John threw a thick envelope on the desk, grabbed my arm, and hauled me toward the door.

“You’re dismissed,” Warren called after us.

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