Page 17 of The Duke of Fire
“I will work double within the next schedule. Or, you can halve my pay.” She knew that what she was offering was suicide. She barely had time to do her work now. What would happen with double the task and half the pay? Still, that setup was better thannot being employed at all.
“You missed your deadline twice. That is not acceptable.”
He gestured rudely with his hand, basically waving her off.
“Please—”
“We are done here,” he snapped.
His feelings had become clear this time. Amelia realized that publishers never looked at her beyond what she could offer. She was merely a means to an end, a cheaper option as a woman.
She stood slowly, like a woman rising from the grave. “I understand,” she whispered, even though nothing about it felt understandable. She had promised to keep her dignity no matter what, even though it felt shredded and stomped on.
She walked out, the door slamming behind her with cruel finality, like a nail sealing a coffin. She flung herself into the street. She was trembling, and visibly so. She let out gasps for air, trying not to cry but needing some air in her lungs.
She had nothing.
No parents. No money. No home of her own. No future.
Her father and mother were dead. Her source of income was gone, and her savings sequestered by a petty half-brother.
But she had something else now—rage.
Raw, pulsing fury wrapped in the silk of every insult, every theft, every slap. Her feet carried her through the city like a specter. She had no plan. No dignity. Only the memory of one man’s voice. It echoed like a chant in her mind.
‘Anything they ask for.’
Desperation brought her to the front of a wrought-iron gate. It was so easy to find the house of the Duke of Firaine. He had claimed he was good to his women, and she was damned if she did not need anyone who could begoodto her.
She knocked on the door, her fingers shaking.
When the butler answered, his eyes scanned her—hair mussed, eyes swollen, dignity in shreds. She did not care.
“Good day. I am here to see the Duke of Firaine. Tell him that the woman who caught fire is here.”
The thing was that Amelia was not only on fire. She was burning at the stake that the world had set up for her.
Chapter 6
The Duke of Firaine’s study was all shadow—mahogany-paneled walls, low golden lamplight, and the faint scent of sandalwood and smoke was curling through the air. A room designed for secrets. For seduction. For power. It was not surprising. Here was a rake who had entertained dozens of women in his lifetime.
Amelia sat uneasily near the hearth, her hands clenched tightly in front of her, the hem of her gown trembling just slightly. She had waited no more than three minutes, but it felt like a lifetime—long enough for shame to creep in and whisper that she should flee while she still could.
Sin incarnate.
Those were the words that popped into her head as soon as the Duke of Firaine entered. He was a black-clad figure of unsettling poise, closing the door behind him with deliberate finality. He did not rush. His eyes met hers and held. And in that gaze was the promise of danger.
She braced herself for his ridicule, standing up from the cushioned chair as a sign of supposed respect. However, something else must have moved her. A cross between instinct and fear.
“Well, well,” he murmured. “And here I thought I would have to hunt you down.”
Amelia swallowed. Her voice caught somewhere between her throat and her pride. “Your Grace, apologies for showing up uninvited, but… I need a word with you.”
“You have my full attention,” he said, moving like a panther toward the sideboard. He poured two fingers of brandy into a crystal glass. “I worry about your lack of self-preservation, though. Unless, of course, you have brought a chaperone hidden under your skirts?” He offered her one glass, but she refused with a shake of her head. Her hands were stiff, close to trembling.
Her lips tightened as she looked left and right. “Are your staff discreet?”
He watched her with an amused smile. “Impeccably. Nobody will know that you have been here without a chaperone unless you tell them.” His lips twitched. “But if anyone asks, I shall simply say you came to repay a debt in Latin.”
