Just like I had Nila’s hair wrapped around my little finger, she had me wrapped around hers.
“Nila. My name is Nila. You might as well call me that, seeing as I’ve had your cock in my mouth and your tongue between my legs. Nothing like tasting each other to be on a first-name basis, huh, Jethro?”
I tugged her hair. “Quiet.”
“No chance.”
My eyes widened. Who was this woman? Taunting me, poking me while her body trembled with anger. It was almost as if she wanted me to explode. To hurt her. To retaliate.
Maybe she does?
Perhaps she felt the same way I did—a connection in our arguments, a freedom to give into the overwhelming emotions that didn’t need to make sense when in the heat of a fight.
How did I think I could maintain this persona I’d created? This suave sophistication that I’d successfully worn for so many years?
My time was up.
And it would remain up until Nila was gone.
I swallowed hard at the thought of her disappearing.
My eyes fell on the diamond collar. “I could make you, but I think you’d just like it.”
As long as the collar remained around her neck, she was alive. As long as the diamonds glinted and drenched her in rainbows, she would be there to torment me.
And day by day, she would make me weaker.
And weaker.
Until one day, I would lose it all.
It can’t happen.
But what could I do to prevent it?
Make her hate you. Make her despise you.
Then it would be against my will, even if I suddenly wanted a change of heart.
“Everything you do to me I hate,” she hissed.
Crowding her against the desk, I murmured, “Everything?” My eyes fell to her lips. What I wouldn’t give to just fucking kiss her. I’d wanted to kiss her for weeks.
Her mouth parted, breath turning soft and quick. “Yes, everything.”
Temper swirled in the room, heating the space. “You seem to enjoy the anticipation of me kissing you.”
She snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Capturing her chin, I dug my fingers into her cheeks. “If I kissed you right now, you’d let me do whatever the hell I wanted.”
She struggled, eyes sparkling with black ferocity. “Kiss me and I’ll bite you.”
I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of our fight, but fuck if it didn’t make me feel more alive than I had in two weeks.
I couldn’t let it continue, though.
It has to stop.
Letting her chin go, I slapped her.
A puff of surprise and pain escaped her lips.
The ring in my palm reminded me of the man I’d been groomed to be, and I threw myself headfirst into it. The bright flush on her cheek as her face snapped sideways begged me to lick her.
So, I did.
Dragging her close, I lapped my tongue over her hot, punished flesh, whispering, “You would like me too much if I gave into your goading, Ms. Weaver. I warned you before—if you insist on playing this game, you won’t win.”
She breathed hard. “Funny, I thought the score was pretty even.”
I pressed my cold lips against her smarting cheek. “Funny, I thought you lost the day you were born.”
She sucked in a breath, her dark eyes swimming with tears.
Strike for me.
I’d won that argument, so why did my stomach feel like fucking lead?
Letting her go, I grabbed the newly drafted contract from the desk and shoved it in her face. “You agreed to this. Sign it.”
Her mouth popped wide, taking in the freshly inked document. I’d spent many nights carefully penning it in the way of our custom with quill and ink, rather than computer and printer. It wasn’t perfect, but it was binding, and that was all that fucking mattered.
Grabbing the same swan feather I’d used to scratch out the paperwork, I stole Nila’s hand and hooked her fingers around the quill.
“What is this?”
“The agreement owed from your disastrous attempt at running.” Tapping the page, I said, “Sign it.”
“I’m not signing anything until I’ve read it.” Her gaze glowed black, her cheek still pink from my slap.
Taking a step back, I splayed my hands, presenting the contract. “By all means, Ms. Weaver. Read away.”
She scowled, her hands shaking as she snatched it from my grip.
Her lips parted as she read.
I didn’t need to see it to know what it said. It was ingrained on my soul.
Date: 5th September 2014
Jethro Hawk, firstborn son of Bryan Hawk, and Nila Weaver, firstborn daughter of Emma Weaver, hereby solemnly swear this is a law-abiding and incontestable contract.
Nila Weaver revokes all ownership of her freewill, thoughts, and body and grants them into the sole custody of Jethro Hawk, as per the agreement made the morning of the 19th of August when Nila Weaver took up the offer from Jethro Hawk to run in exchange for her freedom.
The previous incontestable document named the Debt Inheritance falls into second right of claimant and will remain void as long as this new agreement is in effect.
The terms brokered were for Nila’s freedom and release of the Debt Inheritance if she won, and her willing signature revoking everything that she is to Jethro Hawk if she lost.
On the 19th of August, Nila Weaver lost; therefore, this agreement is complete and binding.
Both Nila Weaver and Jethro Hawk promise neither circumstance, nor change of heart will alter this vow.
In sickness and in health.
Two houses.
One contract.
I’d already signed, taking up half the page below.
Nila looked up, completely horrified. “You can’t be serious. You—you—”
I tensed. “Careful what you say. Think about how painful it will be for you if you insult my mental health again.”
She swallowed back the words dying to spew from her mouth. “I’m not signing this, you bastard.”
I tilted my head. “Bastard? Interesting choice of words.”
“Don't like that one? How about fuckwit? Murderer? Rapist?”
I slapped her again, revelling in the equal burn we shared.
Pain to deliver pain. Pleasure to deliver pleasure.
Funny how the two were correlated.
“I’ll accept ‘bastard’ and ‘fuckwit,’ but under no circumstances will I accept ‘rapist.’ Have I tried to take you? Have I forced you? And, I’m no murderer.”
Her eyes glittered, fingers rubbing her cheek. “Are you deliberately blocking out what happened after the First Debt was repaid, or are you that much of a lunatic to remember only the things convenient to you?”