Page 112 of Carnal Wagers
Five sales should be more than enough to earn him the funds to cover the debt with the Urabá cartel and at least a good chunk of the refund to break off our marriage.
“For your chemicals?”
“All agents and toxins I created myself.”
“And you’ll move in?”
“You guarantee me those sales within the next month, you’ll get yourself a ten percent commission fee, and I’ll move in with you today.”
“Fifteen.”
I scoffed. The nerve of him.
“Guess you don’t want me that bad.”
“Thirteen.”
I tittered at his ridiculousness. It was oddly flattering. “Anyone ever told you you’re a terrible negotiator?”
He caressed my hair back. “Only with you, síbhean. I’ll place all the sanity I have left on a silver platter for your taking. Take it, please.” He whispered the last part against my temple. “Just move in. I need to know I can protect you.”
“I can protect myself.”
“Of course you can.” He appeased me with a small smile, making it clear that I needed to prove to him I wasn’t some dainty little flower.
The timer went off, and I forced my limbs to calmly open the oven and remove the cake. The crust was perfectly golden and crisp. A rich, sweet aroma steamed off it.
“Alright. I’ll move in with you.” I set the cake on the table, keeping busy to hide the slight shake in my hands.
“And I want you to make a list.”
What was up with the demands today? “What kind?”
“A list of everything you’ve ever wished to do and haven’t.”
He cupped my face, cutting off my confusion with a kiss.
“I want to tick everything off it so that the day you die, you’ll have no regrets and be the happiest woman who ever lived.”
My brows creased. “I hadn’t realized I was dying anytime soon.”
His thumbs brushed my cheeks. “Not yet, but before your time comes, I’m going to help make your every wish come true.”
Huh? My jaw unhinged and dangled there.
“Who are you, and what have you done to my Cillian?”
“Your Cillian?”
Blood rushed to my face, but I refused to show him embarrassment, now of all times. I ducked my head and sliced the cake. “Obviously you’re mine.”
He looked way too pleased by that pronouncement. “As it should be.”
He pilfered a piece and wolfed half down. I waited, hip cocked, for some form of reciprocation. Nothing. Seriously?
I stole the remaining half of his cake back and scarfed it down.
“Oi,” he protested.
