Slay

by Laurelin Paige

  We stared at each other, as though we were at a stalemate.

  After several beats of silence, he sat back in his chair. “If you’re set on having a child, I think you should consider backing out of this right now.”

  “I’m not,” I answered too quickly. “I’m still young, though. That could change.” It wouldn’t, but that was beside the point.

  And, though he’d closed the door on that protest, I wasn’t ready to stop pushing back. “What if I don’t think the monthly salary is suitable?”

  “It is suitable.”

  “I might not agree.”

  A knowing smirk played on his lips. “You’re just trying to test me. See if I’ll budge on anything, and I won’t.”

  We’d see about that. “What if I want to take a trip without you? Go and visit my friends back home.”

  “Then you’d approach me with the idea, and we’d discuss it.”

  I spelled out his subtext for him. “And you’d get the final say.”

  “Yes.”

  We were going in circles. I changed course. “I want two vacations a year without you. I walk out of this room if we can’t agree on that.”

  “Sure.” He’d given in too easily. It couldn’t be that simple.

  It wasn’t. “I encourage you to take vacations, in fact,” he went on. “Time for yourself is always a good idea. You decide when and where, and if it doesn’t conflict with my schedule or my notions of where a wife should travel or who she should visit, you can take your little trips.”

  “Maybe I should rephrase—I want two vacations a year guaranteed.”

  “And you’ll get two vacations. On my terms.”

  God, he was impossible. I could just imagine him in a boardroom. No wonder my father hated him. “You were right to assume these conditions would be a hard sell.”

  “And I’m not even finished.” There was that grin again. The one that made my knees knock and my panties damp.

  I threw back the rest of my drink and held it out toward him. “You might want to refill my glass before you go on.”

  He made no move to get up. “I think you’ve had enough already. I appreciate wanting to soften the punch, but I’d prefer you had a clear mind for this discussion.”

  It rankled me that he thought my alcoholic intake was his business.

  And, also, it didn’t. Also it felt natural. It felt nice, even. To have someone care enough about me as a person that he’d think my behavior even mattered.

  I set the empty glass on the coaster he’d provided, and stared at the fire as I considered. “Is that an example of what it would be like? Bossing me around about when and how much I drink or what I wear or how I do my hair.”

  “Mm.” The sound rumbled in his throat, and I willed myself not to shiver.

  I turned my gaze toward him, finding his eyes already on me, as they so often were. This is how he’ll always be. This is how he’ll always watch me.

  This time I did shiver. “I’d have to stop calling myself a feminist.”

  “That’s not what’s making you hesitate.”

  I laughed out loud, glad for an excuse to break the increasing tension. “Oh, really? Then what is?”

  “You’re ashamed of how much you like it.”

  The blood drained from my face. I could feel it dropping through my body as fast as my stomach. He had no right. It was one thing to order me around, but he had no right to guess what I was feeling. No right, even if he wasn’t wrong.

  “Don’t fuss because I’ve called you out. There’s no need for that. There’s a benefit in both of us being on the same page.” As disapproving as his tone was, his scowl was playful, reinforcing my suspicion that he relished my discomfort.

  I had nothing to say in response. I didn’t want to give him an opportunity to see anything else about me.

  He let the silence stretch out for a beat, then asked, “Shall I go on with my expectations now?”

  “Sure,” I said stiffly.

  “We won’t have a big wedding. A small ceremony in the salon should be sufficient. There’s no need to wait. Sometime before the end of the year will do. We can arrange a date with my secretary. We’ll want to be sure my schedule is clear so we can work in a honeymoon.”

  A small ceremony was fine. This wasn’t a real wedding, after all, and I had never been fond of pomp and circumstance. But as sure as I was that he was simply goading me with all his demands, his last sentence was so infuriating, I couldn’t let it pass by without remark. “And why exactly would we go on a honeymoon?”

  “Again, appearances.”

  Of course. Appearances.

  “We’ll go to my island in the Caribbean. It’s beautiful there. You’ll like it.”

  “I like sunny places.” An isolated island in the Caribbean could be a good opportunity for seduction. “Anything else?” I didn’t bother to hide my impatience, more than ready for this whole list of stipulations to be done with.

  But Edward had more. “Your father…”

  Ugh. My father. He didn’t have to finish his sentence. “Yes, he is the reason for this marriage after all. I can’t promise you anything from my father. He’s his own person, and I have very little pull where he’s concerned.”

  It was petty how much I enjoyed not being able to give him reassurances, even though, by lack of doing so, I was potentially ruining the entire arrangement.

  Or maybe he’d change his mind and see he needed an heir for this to work out after all.

  “I don’t expect you to make any commitments on his behalf.” He dropped his hand from his chin, punctuating what he intended to say next. “I do, however, expect you to make every effort to endear me to him. Show him that you believe in me and my motivations. Help him build confidence in me so that, when the time comes, he’ll see me as the natural person to take over as the head of Werner Media.”

  I still contended that Edward had serious misconceptions about my influence.

  But if all he wanted was for me to play nice, to play like he was a good guy in front of my father, I could do that. It would be hard to deceive him in such a way, not hard like I couldn’t do it, but hard because I was eager for the day that I could tell him what all of this had really been about. I couldn’t wait to see Dad’s face when he realized I’d destroyed his enemy.

  That was what I couldn’t wait for, wasn’t it?

  “Fine. Sure,” I said, not wanting to think about it too hard anymore. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Excellent.” Edward finished off his drink and stood to take both his and my glasses back to the bar. I’d thought he had wanted to tidy up and was going to leave them there, but the asshole refilled his glass, leaving mine empty.

  Yes, destroying him was what I wanted. Maybe I’d even be able to let my parents in on what I was about from the beginning.

  “What have you told your parents about us?”

  Except I’d forgotten for a second that Edward planned to dictate every aspect of my life. Best to keep them in the dark after all.

  “Not a lot,” I answered honestly. “I told them I was coming to London for a client whom I was also interested in romantically. I didn’t tell them your name. I wanted to build you up anonymously before my father realized who you are.”

  Edward, having returned with his drink, perched on the arm of his chair. “Good. That’s very good.”

  There was genuine admiration in his eyes, and, like a fool, that was all it took to revive the flutters in my belly.

  I was keen for more praise. “After this is all decided, I’ll tell them I’m engaged so they’ll get used to the idea that I’m really with this mysterious guy. But I’ll dodge questions about who you are until after we’re married.”

  The other option was to not even tell my parents I was engaged until after it was a done deal, but I’d decided that wouldn’t be the best way to win their support for this man I supposedly loved. I’d thought this all through already, and this was the much better plan.


  I held my chin up waiting for Edward to agree.

  He didn’t.

  “No,” he said with a frown. “That won’t work. I want them here for the ceremony. I need Warren Werner to watch as you vow to be mine.”

  Mine. That word sent a shot of heat through my bloodstream.

  It’s not real, I reminded myself. I wasn’t really going to be his, and why would anyone really want that anyway after hearing all his expectations?

  My annoyance was more with myself than with him, but his proposal was pretty dumb. “Uh, keep dreaming there, buddy. There’s a whole host of reasons why that’s not going to work.”

  “And they are?”

  I swung my feet to the floor and leaned forward. “First, my mother would never let me get by with a small ceremony. As it is, I’m going to have to play along with her about wedding preparations until we tie the knot. Even then she might insist we do a redo just so she can go big. Secondly, if my parents were here before—if my father is here before we’re married, he will definitely try to put a stop to it.”

  “Not if he believes you really love me.”

  “Even then.” Surely he had to realize how much my father hated him.

  Edward tilted his head, his expression skeptical. “He’d prevent you from marrying your soulmate? The man you’ve waited for all your life? I seriously doubt any father can deny his only daughter’s happiness, even if it’s tied up in his business rival.”

  “Yes, but...” But Edward wasn’t my soulmate. He wasn’t the man I’d waited for all my life.

  “You have to sell it that way,” he said, reading my doubts which I was sure were all over my face. “And I trust that you can.”

  I’d been about to say it was impossible, but his trust in me made me hesitate. Could I really do this? Could I convince my father that Edward made me happy, that I wanted to spend my life with him?

  It would be the hardest con I’d ever played. And I did like a challenge.

  Still... “I don’t know. I don’t see how I’ll get them here for it. I can put off telling them who you are for a while, but as soon as I tell them the wedding is soon and not a year or more away, they’ll start demanding more information and once I say it’s you, I’m not sure I’ll even be able to keep my father on the phone to discuss it.”

  Unless...

  “Then don’t tell them you’re getting married until you’re face to face.”

  Edward voiced the very idea I’d just been considering. It had merit.

  “Here’s a thought,” he said. “Tell them you’re engaged, and you’re in love and very happy, and that rather than tell them anything about your intended, you’d prefer for them to meet me in person. Then invite them to come to London. For your birthday, perhaps, if you need an occasion.”

  I nodded, seeing where he was going. “Then when they’re here, ‘Surprise! We’re getting married right now.’”

  “Exactly.”

  I sat back and pondered the idea from all angles. They’d be upset, of course, but in person really was the best way to convince them of something so big. “My birthday is November ninth,” I said, doing the math. “Two months from now.”

  “I know.”

  For fuck’s sake, Celia, do not get all giddy because he knows when your birthday is.

  His gaze drifted up in thought. “I actually just had a project drop from my calendar in November. I think that will work perfectly. I’ll check with Charlotte on Monday.”

  “Okay.” I had to take a deep breath to keep the room from spinning. We had a date. This was happening. This was really happening. “Okay,” I said again, steadying myself with the two syllables.

  Edward’s brows perked up. “Okay? To everything?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, and then stopped myself. This was my chance to make my own appeals.

  “Yes, okay to everything, but while we’re negotiating…” I met his eyes and my heart skipped a beat at the intensity of our connection.

  Damn, I really wish I had that second drink.

  “Are we? Negotiating?” He was so smooth. So unaffected.

  “While you’re demanding,” I said, standing up. I tossed my hair hoping it looked as sultry as it felt. “It seems only fair that I have a chance to make my own requests.”

  “Just so long as you understand that they are only requests.”

  The amusement was back in his expression.

  I sauntered over to him, stopping directly in front of where he was perched. “Right. Because you have the final say on everything. But only once this arrangement starts, and, until there’s a ring on this finger,” I wiggled the appropriate digit, “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

  Sitting like this, on the arm of the chair, his back straight, we were practically the same height. It occurred to me that this was the closest we’d ever been to having equal footing, and somehow that made me both heady and encouraged.

  I reached out to rub the collar of his shirt between my thumb and forefinger, my breath stuttering under the thick weight of apprehension, my mouth watering from how close I was to touching his skin. This close, I could smell the liquor on his breath and the musky scent of his cologne and the fainter scent underneath of pure man.

  “Tell me your requests.” Was it my imagination or did his voice suddenly seem darker? Less steady?

  “There’s only one.” I leaned in until my lips were near his ear. “I want to add sex to the deal.”

  He made a sound low in his throat, half like a laugh, half like a moan. “What, now?”

  He turned his face toward mine, and now our mouths were only inches away from touching. I could feel the warmth of his exhale on my skin, sending a trail of goosebumps down my arms.

  “Now, sure.” Fuck, I was wet already. “But I meant in the marriage, too.”

  His lips danced around mine. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. You want to be humiliated, degraded, and hurt?”

  Yes.

  Because that was the goal of The Game.

  But, also, YES!

  Because, in that moment, there was nothing more I could imagine wanting than to be all those things, to be humiliated and degraded and hurt, by him. I wanted it so much I ached. Ached in places I hadn’t known could feel.

  I reached my neck forward, pushing my mouth toward his.

  Just when I thought the kiss was inevitable, he leaned back. “You couldn’t handle it.”

  I was frustrated, but he was still here. Still engaged in the conversation. I hadn’t lost him completely yet. “How do you know I’m not into what you’re into?”

  He brought a finger up and traced the tip along my jawline. “If you were into what I’m into, you would settle for what I give and not try to demand more.”

  Somewhere in the back of my head, I understood what he was saying, that he wanted submission here, too. That he was the one who did the seducing.

  But I was too desperate for him, and too scared that he wouldn’t do the seducing if I pulled back. “I don’t think it’s fair to come to that conclusion while we’re still in the negotiation stage.”

  I lifted my hand to cup his cheek, to hold his face still.

  He caught my wrist before I reached my destination and brought it down to hold between us. “You still haven’t figured it out, have you? This isn’t a negotiation stage. There’s no bargaining here, Celia. Not with me. There’s what I want or there’s nothing at all. I don’t negotiate.”

  I studied his face while he spoke, so I didn’t see what his other hand was doing until I felt the ring being slid down my finger, slipped past my knuckles, until it was snug at the base.

  Surprised, I glanced down to see what I was wearing. Once I saw it, I couldn’t look away. It was vintage and white gold and square—a ring I would never have chosen for myself. Nevertheless, it was exquisite. The center stone had to be at least three carats and was surrounded by a double cushion-shaped frame lined with shimmering round accent diamonds. Intricate milgrain details ran a
long the band. There were so many stones that, no matter which way I turned my hand, they caught the light.

  I’d never been given anything as beautiful in my life.

  “It’s stunning,” I said, barely able to speak over the knot in my throat. Where had it even come from? I’d thought he was being a dick when he said he already had something. He must have had it in his pocket all night long.

  “It’s stunning on your finger.” He sounded almost as awed as I felt.

  It made me feel beautiful, both his words and the ring itself and suddenly I wanted to do something for him, give him something that made him feel as good as this small object made me feel.

  “Will you wear a band as well? I’d like to pick it out, if you’ll let me.”

  He searched my face for several heavy seconds, his eyes flicking more than once to my lips, and I was sure, absolutely sure he was going to kiss me.

  I held my breath, waiting.

  But he didn’t kiss me. Instead, he stood and pushed past me, heading toward his desk. “It came in a set. I have wedding bands for both of us already.”

  I was still recovering from that rejection when he picked up the cradle on the antique phone I’d thought had been just decoration. “Ms. Werner is ready to go back to her hotel,” he barked. “Bring the car around. She’ll be down momentarily.”

  The message was clear. There’d be no kisses, no negotiating, no sex. Edward’s word was law.

  “I guess I’ll be going,” I said, as though I had a choice in the matter, fighting like hell to hold back tears. “Thank you for the wonderful evening.”

  I took off down the stairs, not waiting for him to offer to escort me or even say good night. If I stood around even a minute, I was afraid he’d see into me like he always did. Afraid he’d see truths about me I didn’t even know myself.

  It wasn’t like I was leaving with nothing. We were officially engaged. I had a ring. He’d established the rules of this dark little game of ours. A game I was more committed to playing than ever.

  I just couldn’t say anymore if I wanted to play to destroy him or to win him.