“Y es, Adele. Yes. I said return it all. Add your cut to my debt, whatever fees, I don't care. Yes, I know the next performance won't be until next week. I'll turn over every penny to you first. It's my decision.” I'm not sure who hangs up first: me, or the furious woman who can't believe I'm making her void a six figure check .

At least the worst part of the day is over. Hopefully .

I'm halfway home, and I've already given the other people on the bus for their evening commute an earful they didn't ask for. Truth is, I'm happy the commute takes awhile. I needed some time alone after I walked out of his swanky house this morning. It wasn't far from my favorite parks by Union Bay, where I got coffee and sat, clutching my camisole tight in the seaside breeze .

I spent the last few hours trying to contemplate how I'm breaking the news to Vince that we might not be able to refill his meds in time. Especially if I'm giving Adele an even heftier cut from my paycheck .

Jesus. Even with a history major's math skills, I know I'm up shit creek with just my hands to paddle .

This isn't fair to my little brother, or myself .

I need money. I need his medicine. I need a damn break .

The only person who can help is the one I'd rather talk to least .

Harry .

I've been dreading it all day. But now that I'm close to home, there's no more putting off the call .

Halfway between the bus stop and our ratty one bedroom apartment, I stop in the alley behind the noisy biker bar, and flip through my contacts. I don't expect him to pick up. That's why I've been rehearsing the sad, sticky sweet voicemail I'll leave for him to find, but nothing ever goes according to plan for a girl whose luck ran out sometime a decade ago .

“Yeah? Skye? What the fuck do you want ?”

“Uncle Harry!” What a surprise .

“How are you?” No, I don't even care if these fake pleasantries hide my surprise. They're ash in my mouth before the brutal silence between us, when he waits for me to get straight to the point. If he's ever had the slightest patience for small talk, I've never seen it. “Listen, I need a favor .”

“Another handout? Christ. Like I haven't given you enough, letting you shake tail without putting out, feeding off my nasty girls who work for what they do .”

His harsh words wrinkle my nose. It's a cringe-worthy, ugly reminder my uncle isn't shy about being a pimp. Just one of the many mysterious, disgusting hats he wears after a long career in Seattle's gritty underworld .

“Not for me. It's for Vinnie,” I snap, ten seconds into the conversation and already completely sick of this crap .

“Vinnie? What's the matter? He's a good kid.” My heart starts beating again after my uncle says those words. He's always had a soft spot for his only nephew. He's more than happy to pin the blame on me, and honestly, if it helps my little brother, I'll let him. “Shit, is he in trouble? Start talking. What is it you need ?”

“Just a break, Uncle Harry. This month only. I'll put in more hours with Adele, obviously, and I'm not asking for money. I just need to...keep what I've earned this month. Otherwise, we won't be able to afford his medications .”

“Tell you what, little screamer, it's your lucky day. I'm in a giving kinda mood. Got some new business happening in Portland that's making mad coin.” Harry pauses just long enough to chuckle, pushing frost up my spine. “Forget the debt these next two weeks. Buy Vinnie his meds. I'll give you one more chance to take care of him right since I was sweet on your ma, and I know she'd want to keep you two kids together .”

A glass bottle bangs against the window next to me, and I almost jump out of my skin. I turn, brow furrowed, and give the drunken asshole behind the glass the dirty confusion reserved for my Uncle .

“One more chance? What do you mean ?”

Frustration grunts through my receiver. “Ain't it obvious? Vinnie deserves better than being cooped up in that ratty fuckin' apartment while you wrap up that useless degree instead of getting a real job. If you can't give him what he needs, I will .”

The ground falls out under me. I start speed walking through the alley, trying to suck the air from my lungs, before rage creeps into my voice and makes a bad situation worse. “We're fine, Uncle Harry. Really. I don't need you to come get him .”

“Yeah, that's the thing – I don't want to neither. That's a last resort. Plan B, if you're not up to snuff. Besides, I love the kid to death, but I'm not exactly the fathering type. Hell, I've got you stripping for the next ten years, or however long it takes to repay that mill or so you owe. Generous, right? Just like the good guy I am. You promised a lot of goodies on that treasure hunt, screamer. They never showed up .”

“I know. I was there,” I say bitterly. “We don't need to rehash –“

“Oh, fuck yes, we do, screamer. Every month you're on the horn whining about how bad you've got it, we very much need to remember why we've got ourselves this pretty little deal. We need to remember how your fuckup cost me big. Also how you really don't give a shit how nice I've been about it .”

“Uncle –“

“Shut up. Sure, maybe you don't say it point-blank to my face because you know better, but I ain't stupid. I can read between the lines. You think I'm a creep for making you do this. You think it's hard, even though I could have you toting drugs instead, and then you'd find out what real work is. And just between us, I know it wasn't a fuckin' boo-boo, that Roman shit disappearing in the mail, or whatever. You took my money without delivering squat. Probably your way of getting back at me for laying the moves on your sweet mom before she threw herself off the bridge. Everybody needs their scapegoat and a little sweet revenge, screamer. I get it .”

He didn't...he didn't just go there, did he ?

Jesus, yes, he did .

I stop just short of throwing my phone in the road, but I can't do anything about the hot, angry tears rolling down my cheeks. Mission accomplished. Harry laughs quietly to himself when he hears me crying, just like the other times it's happened .

“Aw, there, there, screamer. Don't you worry your pretty tie-dyed head. You're still wearing that shit just like a weepy Emo chick who had a one night stand with a rainbow, right? Just like I saw you last?” I'm silent, shaking, standing under a tree next to the bar while a couple beat up bikes tear down the road. I never answer his stupid questions – it's the only thing I don't have to give him. “I'm glad we had this talk, Skye. Now pucker the fuck up and thank your Uncle for being such a stand up guy. I'm waiting .”

“Thanks.” That word is a nuclear tipped barb on my tongue, harsher than any curse I've ever uttered in my life .

“I gotta go, sweetness. Call back anytime. I'll be seeing you and Vinnie real soon if things keep going sideways on you.” He pauses just long enough to let me imagine his gross smile while he walks my little brother down to his car, never to be seen again. “Make sure it doesn't for everybody's sake. Yours, Vinnie's and most of all, mine .”

It's over. My arm slumps at my side, clutching the phone .

It takes me another thirty minutes before I'm able to walk the last few blocks home .

Every black day of my life is this poison. It spreads to Vinnie far too easily if he knows I've been crying. I make sure to wipe my face on my sleeve, apply a quick dash of makeup, and then stop at the gas station across from our place for a couple cheap tea drinks .

* * *

“V innie, come on, what did I tell you about the heat?” I send a mom's nagging look his way, turning the old thermostat, wagging my finger .

It's amazing how much heat a fifteen year old kid needs to feel warm when he's cocooned in like three blankets, eyes glued to the screen with an Xbox controller in his hand. “Yeah, yeah, turn it up. I hear you .”

“Down , Vinnie. Sixty five degrees is plenty comfortable with a blanket or two. We're going to be in trouble this winter if we waste too much money on utilities .”

“K, Skye, I hear you loud and clear. What's for dinner ?”

Rolling my eyes, I stomp back into the kitchen without a reply. I stir our canned spaghetti sauce, wondering how it's possible to love the kid so much when he's so ridiculous .

But I was that way, once .

Mom tried her best to give me a normal adolescence. Money was tight, except when Uncle Harry sent us his 'vacation fund.' He'd tell us we deserved a family vacation, the least he could do to look after the people his brother left behind .

I think we used it for a trip to Oregon once. Every other time, it went toward bills, paying down debt, mom trying to keep our family together, and make sure I'd stay her straight A pride and joy .

All until she couldn't cope anymore .

I still wonder if the last letters Harry sent drove her off the deep end. She'd been spending more time away from us, taking these late nights and trips to God knows where. It wasn't long after the letters and calls became a weekly thing that she rode the ferry to Bremerton, found a bridge, and –

No. You can't think about that right now. Not when it's been a fucked up day .

I throw some garlic toast into the oven and set a timer before I rejoin Vinnie in the living room. Surprisingly, he's standing by the door with his coat on. He flicks the TV off and sets the remote down on our messy table by the door. A long lost ChapStick I forgot there rolls off the edge, bouncing to the floor. One of several from a multi-pack .

Ignoring it, I cross my arms. “Where do you think you're going, Mister? I just slaved over this four star dinner. Even picked up a Parmesan shaker at the drug store .”

“Ben says there's this awesome midnight movie playing down the street.” He lowers his eyes sheepishly. “Uh, you know I was gonna ask your permission, Skye. I'll have a little spaghetti,” he says cheerfully, as if stuffing his face with pasta will solve the world's problems .

I frown. “You mean you'll ask for a few bucks after I'm good and stuffed, too tired to say no. Come on, Vincent, we both know the game .”

I'm not sure why I bother. There's little sense scorning him over normal teen wanderlust. But I'm serious about him eating. I don't like how he's underweight for his age, too nauseated some days to keep much down. A side effect of the anti-seizure meds breaking the bank .

“Look, there's no sense in hiding it – this is going to be a tough month. Probably a rough winter, too.” I watch his eyes hit the floor, the life sucked out of his young face. Damn it. I sigh. “I know you don't want a lecture. I'm just laying out the facts. If your homework is done, and I see you clean your plate, then maybe I'll dig around in my purse and see if I've got a spare five or –“

“That's my saucy sis! Knew you'd be cool with it!” He runs forward, throws his arms around me, grinning like a fool. “Thanks a million. I sent Mrs. LeMay my geology paper right before you got home. I promise I won't be out too late after the movie ends .”

A blatant lie. Still, he's a good kid, overall. I don't think he's out doing anything much worse than I did at his age. “One o'clock curfew, kiddo. I'll be up, and waiting. You won't like what happens if you're not up here and brushing your teeth for bed. Now, get your butt over to the table and eat .”

It's rare to see him this pleased, and it takes so little .

I'm able to eat a plate of spaghetti and some toast without throwing up. No small miracle. Vinnie's grin turns my stomach before he plucks the last crumpled ten from my hand .

I smile back, but I'm secretly crying .

Why can't I make you this happy all the time ?

* * *

I t's past midnight and I'm slumped on the couch, a stack of freshly graded papers for Professor Olivers on my lap. A little too early for Vinnie to come home. Too far past my bedtime on the nights I get to stay in .

So, who the hell is pounding at the door ?

It takes a second to realize it's not just a dream. There's a steady, incessant banging .

I get up, cautious because it's so late. When I see the familiar face through the tiny spyhole, I freeze .

“Holy hell. I'm dreaming ...”

I'm not even joking this time. It can't be him .

I'm expecting my disorganized apartment and the man at the door to disappear in a puff of smoke the instant I jerk it open. But life is never so easy or merciful .

Cade Turnbladt stands in front of me in all his tall, broad shouldered, wicked smirking glory .

He's not coming in. I don't dare take the chain off the door .

“Had a feeling this was the place,” he whispers, voice as nosy and self-sure as ever. Smiling, he pokes his face toward mine, peering through the tiny crack in the door I'm allowing .

“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper, eyes drilling his. I hope I look angry. It'll be easier not to lose myself in his pearly blues if my obvious annoyance keeps him extra guarded .

“Couldn't leave off after how we finished the morning, Skittle. Let me in .”

He isn't asking. His hand reaches through the door .

Hell no! I don't even hesitate. He roars, cursing when I slam his hand in the door, and immediately regret it .

Not because I'm sorry for teaching this cocky ass some much needed humility, or bruising his fingers. His swearing is loud enough to wake half the building. We really don't need another warning from the landlord this month – not after Vinnie's left his stupid shooter games cranked up, prompting the old lady down the hall to squeal a couple weeks ago. And in a city where there's plenty of tenants to go around, I'm scared to give our owner any eviction excuses .

“Hey, keep it down!” I fling open the door, hissing through my teeth. I do a quick look around, and then motion him in. I'm annoyed he's really here. I'm even more annoyed there's a pang of empathy when I see him rubbing his wounded hand. “Stay there and make it quick. I'll get you a bag of ice .”

He follows, disobeying me again, the fury in his eyes melting in rogue amusement. “If I'd known a little pain was the key to your heart, I'd have done things a whole lot differently last night .”

He's in the kitchen. So close it's hard to hide my blush, cooling my cheeks in the freezer. I reach inside for an ice pack and linger, totally trying to pretend his eyes aren't locked on my ass. My cheeks are so hot, even when I'm face-deep in frost .

I don't think I'm into the whole dominant spanking thing, but how would I really know ?

“Here's your damn ice,” I say, shoving a small baggie into his hand while I retrieve a paper towel to catch the condensation. “Start talking. You've got five minutes .”

“Must be my lucky day,” he says, that damnable smirk I've tried to forget hanging on his lips as he pushes his hand into the ice pack. “That's a lot more time than you gave me this morning .”

“You're reading way too much into this, Cade. If you're here about the same offer, sorry. Still not interested.” Why does it come out so weak ?

I want to kick myself a second later. The wildcat glint in his eye tells me he senses it just like I do. It's hesitation. With a man like this, it could be fatal .

“Tell me what you need,” he growls, grabbing my wrist with his good hand. “Everybody has a price. Name yours, beautiful. Do I need to put another zero on that check I told Adele to keep this morning? How much so you'll never have to work for her again? It's obvious you don't want to .”

Arrow, meet heart. His aim is way too good. Or else cupid is one twisted little SOB .

I glance at the clock, hoping that stupid movie isn't one of those short anime things Vinnie watches with his geeky friends. For once, I don't want him home early. I cringe at the thought of him seeing me with this strange man, contemplating a deal with the devil .

“A million even, after tax, would go a long way toward making us comfortable. If you really want to know ...”

“Us?” he echoes .

“Me and my little brother. He has a condition, and medicine isn't cheap .”

Cade smiles, stroking his jaw. I hear his stubble scratching his thumb. “You mentioned that when you slipped last night. I'm a charitable man, Skittle. Saving a sick kid just sweetens the deal for my fucked up sense of karma. How 'bout yours ?”

I don't answer, looking away. Hot shame tans my cheeks, and he's the sun. “I don't have one. I told you what I want .”

“Yeah, finally. Consider it done. You want the check in your account, or sent straight to Adele? If you've got a normal bank account, we'll probably have to give them a heads up. It's not everyday some random walks in with seven figures .”

Holy hell. He isn't even joking .

My eyes are so wide it takes a minute to catch myself, and I remember I'd better look normal. It's business, after all. Nothing more .

But Jesus, apparently, there's no amount that makes him think twice. I should have said a hundred million, a billion, some unfathomable sum. There has to be a number to convince him I'm not really worth it .

And if he just offered me a million bucks, didn't I imply I'd take it? So much for ending this swiftly .

“Back up. It's not that easy, Cade. I'm a busy woman. Money is only half of it,” I say. I'm as desperate to talk myself out of this as I am to convince him to buzz off. “There's time to consider. I can't give up my life and be your doting, stay-at-home wife baking you cookies in nothing but an apron, or whatever it is you think I'll be for a million bucks .”

“I was hoping you'd say that, Skittle. If I kept you on your knees with a leash, mirroring my every move – although that would be fucking hot – it wouldn't convince my cousin's people we're the real deal, man and wife. And they will come checking, one way or another. Asshole won't let his meal ticket go so easy. He can rent our place out for a lot of cash .”

Cade comes closer. His hand flies out, slaps the wall next to me. The more I try to look away, the harder he stares. Ice and magma war in my blood .

“Skittle...” His hand reaches out, tipping his fingers to my chin, lifting it until I can't avoid his world ending glare for anything. “You worry too much about specifics. Take the damn deal and be happy. We'll iron out the fine print later. I know you want to. You need this as bad as I do, Skye .”

There's something I never noticed before around his neckline. A black flare creeping up his skin like flame. It's the edge of some dark, wonderful tapestry no doubt stamped on his chest. I shudder helplessly .

It's bad enough to have this strange, mysterious, demanding bastard in my home, a total hovel compared to his Edgewater palace. It's worse every time my eyes caress his body. I see a hint of the freak underneath that button down shirt, painted like a canvass, the same one winking at me every time the dull light catches his eyes .

But I'm not afraid of his darkness, his secrets, everything I still don't know about Mr. Relentless .

It's my own. My darkness, my unknowns, my hellish predicament. They can't trap him, too, when it's already spun a web around me and Vinnie .

“This is crazy. Why don't we just quit while we're ahead? I'm serious, Cade,” I whisper, breaking his grip, turning away. “How many times do I have to say 'no ?'”

“As many as it takes, Skittle. I'm not backing down. I'll be back tomorrow if you shoot me down tonight. I'll show up next in the middle of your class, and book the fucking keynote when you're handed the PhD. I'll hire a guy to write Skye in the damn sky, next clear day, and I will make sure it's an engagement announcement. You're perfect for this gig. That's crazy, yeah, but that doesn't mean it isn't true. I want you. So much I'm wasting precious time hunting your sweet ass over anybody else. Let's get this straight, from my stalker lips to your lovely little ears: I'm not going anywhere until you come to your senses, Skye. You've got plenty of those hiding behind that pretty face .”

I'm lost. I don't know how to get him out of here. For a second, I contemplate calling the police, but what will I tell them, exactly? A billionaire finance tycoon broke in and demanded to pay me a million to become his make-believe wife ?

There's only one person who'd get hauled to the loony bin, and it won't be Stubborn Blue Eyes .

“If I say I'll think about it, will that get you the hell out of here so I can have a decent night's sleep ?”

He smiles like I've just reached through the window and handed him the moon. “We'll see. In the meantime, think about this .”

He stands, walking slowly to the door, a new beat in his step I really regret putting there. Cade reaches into his pocket, digs around, and then pulls out the irrational diamond ring that's worth so much more than everything else in this building, it might warp time and space. Or at least a few pocketbooks .

“This is all you've got to think on,” he says, parking it gently on the end table's only bare spot. He tucks a thin scrap of paper underneath, which I see has his number on it from across his room. “Call me tomorrow, or I'll be back. I need a yes .”

The door swings open. I pad over, gritting my teeth, embarrassed to have these oversized diamonds sitting next to my ChapStick, collection notices, and junk mail with notes I no longer cared about scrawled on their corners. It's in my palm when the door swings open, and Vinnie steps in, a couple laughing boys behind him .

“Crap.” He freezes as soon as he sees me. “Sorry, sis, I thought you'd be asleep. Just wanted to bring the guys in for a minute or two, and show them –“

He trails off. I'm the one who looks guilty. I close my palm, but it's too late. The hundred pinpricks of light reflecting off this crazy ring draw every eyeball in the room .

“You're early, and when did I ever say you could bring company?” I summon my best mom voice, trying my damnedest to pretend nothing happened. “Go home, boys. It's late. James, your dad's even more of a worry-wart than me .”

“Sorry, Skye!” The kids say it in unison, then head for the door. Vinnie whispers a few quick phrases after them about meeting up tomorrow evening, how he thought I'd be asleep, and – oh – of course he's found new ways to kill zombies on the screen he simply has to show them .

“You're in trouble, Mister,” I say, gently yanking him inside as soon as we can't hear his friends footsteps plodding down the hall. “Next time you bring friends over this late, without asking, the X-box is coming with me to campus. You'd be surprised how much grads like blasting zombies between classes .”

“Jesus, sis. Settle down. I knew you'd be pissed if you found out, but you're not usually this defensive. Where'd you jack that ?”

My heart skips a beat. He's staring straight at my hand, his young eyes dark and curious, eager to brand me the hypocrite like every fifteen year old kid railing against authority .

“It's...” I try, but the words won't come. I'm caught red handed, or at least red faced .

Half a dozen possibilities roll over in my mind, sticking in my throat. None of them sensible .

It's...what, exactly ?

A fake? An artifact on loan from the university? Something I found, and yes, of course I've already posted on Craiglist to help find whoever lost it ?

None of it sounds right. It just makes me look guilty as hell .

There's only one possibility .

“Well, I was going to wait a while longer to break the news, but since you're so nosy...” I draw out the last part, wondering if I'm really ready for this. “I'm engaged, Vincent. Our lives will be very different soon .”

“Engaged...what?!” He blinks, his cynical little tongue struck quiet. “Who? When ?”

“Someone I've been seeing between classes. His name is Cade, and he's really wonderful. We're in love .”

Lies, lies, lies! If it's a sin to tell these whoppers to my clueless little brother and my own messed up heart, then I must be headed for circles of hell even Dante never charted .

I'd let myself feel bad if I wasn't so panicked. The shame will have to wait, and there'll be plenty tomorrow, when I go crawling to my blue eyed savior on hands and knees, when he knows I'm willing to be his – Oh, God – his wife .

“It's a shock, I know. I'm sorry, Vinnie. I didn't mean to break the news this way. You just caught me at a bad time. We only made it official tonight. I'm probably still processing.” At least there's one truth in there. “I really meant to take it off my finger, tuck it away, and sit down and explain all this. Hey, don't look at me like that .”

“It was that guy in the hall, wasn't it? We saw him coming in. Nice shoes, great smile, not a care in the world...he stepped into a freaking Maserati out front! Wow. I never thought you'd be the gold digger type .”

“I'm not marrying him for money.” Oh, but I am. “Vinnie, please. You're getting carried away. You don't understand –“

“I understand plenty, sis. You know what else? Screw you .”

“Vincent !”

“No. This is bullshit,” he says, racing halfway to his room before I call after him again, and he whips around. “You chastise me night and day for stepping out of line, trying to fill mom's shoes, thinking I don't know how to look after myself .”

“That's different!” It's got to be, right? If it isn't, none of this is making sense. “You're fifteen. You have a medical condition ...”

“Like I don't know?” Pain lines his face. His fingers brush through his sandy brown hair, so quick and careless they twist his glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose. “I have to live with it everyday. I take care of myself when you're not here. You think you're so grown up since we got into this mess, trying to make the best of all this crap. Well, I've grown up, too .”

“I know you have, Vinnie. Look...” I pinch my eyes shut, disgusted because I know I'm not the only one tearing up. “This is coming out wrong. Let's sleep on it tonight, okay? I promise, in the morning, we'll hash it out over breakfast. I'll explain everything, and why. No more secrets .”

Just the huge, glaring fact that I'm about to wipe our debts clean by pretending to be a billionaire's bride to save a castle. If my heart weren't stinging from the stitches, I'd be laughing my ass off .

“Whatever, sis,” he says, turning. “Good night .”

His door bangs shut, scraping its frame. It's always a little uneven thanks to the shoddy job our landlord did hanging it. I crash on the couch again, and accidentally knock my half-empty tea bottle onto the coffee table. Sweet smelling brown liquid soaks through the folder with the undergrad papers .

I'm too fucked up to care. Too tired. Too confused .

Right now, I have to clear my head. It's the only way I'll figure out how I make this work without demolishing my sanity, and everybody else's .

* * *

V innie is gone before I'm awake the next day. I'm alone in our apartment, ample opportunity to take the world's slowest shower. I use the few minutes I have beneath our jerky, hissing shower head to meditate. Afterward, I stand in front of the mirror, massaging my temples .

Am I really going to make a deal with the devil I don't know ?

“Yes,” I whisper, trying to pump myself up. It doesn't help. “What else do I have to lose ?”

The facts couldn't speak more clearly if they punched me in the face. I don't know the rock in this situation, but the hard place, I know brutally well .

Dealing with the devil I know – Uncle Harry – hasn't gotten me anywhere. There's no doubt what more limping along with him means .

The bastard turns my stomach. He's a karma dealing monster. He's the serpent and the apple that's left me cursed, once by my own desperate judgment, and again with the invisible strings he's strangled us with for the past six months .

Bender of my morals. False hope. Possible murderer .

If there'd been another way, hell no, I wouldn't have put up with him this long .

Now, maybe I don't have to. I'd gotten so used to the idea of being his slave, stripping for Adele and her soulless clients, that I've forgotten what it's like to even contemplate freedom .

That's over. Whatever else Cade is, he's an escape .

I'm halfway through blow drying my hair when I realize the soft, shrill noise isn't coming from the dryer. I'm singing. Something that hasn't happened since before mom's suicide .

When I'm on the sofa with the phone perched in my palm a couple minutes later, I remind myself how stupid I'm being, trying to practice the best words before I make the call. But only for a second. This dumb, desperate glee coursing through my heart gives me the courage to dial the number Cade left, and find the words when I hear his gruff voice pick up .

“Skittle? What's the good word ?”

“I'll do it,” I say. My head feels lighter the instant it's out. “With a few conditions, but we can talk about those later. When do you want to meet ?”

“How about now?” he says. “I'm at my place. I usually work Saturday mornings, but I took this one off just to hear your voice. Come over .”

“I'll need the address, I guess. I wasn't really paying attention when I stormed out the other night .”

“No need. My driver's been outside your place all morning. Even had him give your kid brother a ride to his friend's house .”

I'm bristling. Vinnie should've texted me, should've known better than to take rides from strangers...but it's my fault. I'm the one who lied last night. Why the hell would he pass up a chance to ride with my new fiancé's fancy chauffeur ?

“Maybe terms can't wait,” I whisper, sharpening the edge in my voice. “Cade, whatever happens next, it's between you and me. Leave Vinnie out of this. I don't want him getting any crazy ideas, especially when it's not going to last .”

“He's, what, sixteen? Let him enjoy the ride. What's mine is his while we're together. You want him to have his own place, or move into mine, just say the word. I'll leave that to you .”

“Hell yes, you will. I don't want to drag him into this anymore than I already am. Don't spoil him.” I can't figure out what's worse: the guilt curdling my stomach, or the anger dousing my veins. Both due to the kindest favor anyone's ever done for my little brother .

I have to bite my tongue before I blow this. It's good practice. I'm sure there'll be a lot more tongue chewing happening in the future .

“I'm a businessman, Skittle. Obviously, I'll respect your wishes when it comes to family. No need to say it again.” He sounds almost offended .

I stifle a laugh, rolling my eyes. “Whatever. Let me get my things. I'll meet you in an hour or two. Just need to get in touch with Vinnie first and tell him what's happening .”

I'm also secretly hoping my kid brother won't throw a total fit after he finds out it's moving day, without warning. Not that I expect he'll put up much fuss when he sees the view from Cade's place. We've lived in this city our entire lives, and I don't think either of us have seen Seattle from that angle. Not since the scarce times mom brought us up on the Space Needle when we were little .

“Got it. I'll let you tell me when you want me to send the car around for the kid. He can have my whole basement until we're situated. Never do anything down there except lift .”

There's no goodbye. I'm left with a flashing screen, silence, and a vision I really don't need in my head of Mr. Relentless pumping iron in whatever private gym he has in his house .

* * *

P redictably, Vinnie doesn't answer any of the four texts I send him while I'm riding across the city in millionaire style. Nate, Cade's older, genteel chauffeur treats me like a total princess. I could get used to a guy opening the door for me when I step outside the apartment, ushering me into the backseat. There's a TV screen, a built in tablet, chargers galore, and a freaking cooler stocked with mineral water, cold brewed coffee, organic juices .

Maybe I shouldn't worry so much about Vinnie getting spoiled. There's plenty of that to go around .

I raise the privacy visor, too much out of my element for small talk. The shiny new ring on my finger is an easy distraction, strange and beautiful. I've decided I'll wear it when we meet as a token of good faith .

When we get to his place, he's standing outside the double-door entrance, between the tall Greek columns. It's an even prettier approach through the gate in the daytime, meandering up the long driveway, a slow descent into paradise. It even makes me forget how out of place I feel here in jeans and a cardigan, which I'm grateful for when I step out, and the crisp Pacific breeze nips at my shoulders .

I came ready for the wind. His first insane words, on the other hand ...

“Welcome home, Skittle,” he says, grasping my hand. “Let's step in my office. Unless, of course, you'd like to review the paperwork on the master balcony ?”

The glint in his eye threatens my cheeks with another blush. “Whatever feels like business,” I tell him. “That's all we're doing. Plain and simple .”

“No pleasure? Fuck me. That's like walking out on dessert wine after a hell of a dinner. Suit yourself, then, Skye. Follow me .”

I do, hanging close to him, trying to keep my eyes off the muscular shoulders calling to my baser senses while he leads me inside .

He's dressed more casually today, sexier than any man should be in a sweater and trousers. He's even wearing high end sneakers, which makes me feel slightly more at ease .

It's easy to forget men as rich as Midas don't dress to the nines every single day. His home office is just as neat and regal as the rest of the mansion. A huge desk sits in front of tall windows, perfectly positioned for the landscape behind it, empty except for a monitor, a platinum pen on its stand, and a slim stack of paperwork. He slides it over. “Read and sign, please .”

“Jesus,” I say, lifting it closer. “You already had time to see a lawyer ?”

His smirk disappears. “Not exactly. I'd been planning this for weeks, before you dropped into my life, singing the best rendition of Fly Me to the Moon I ever heard from a naked chick .”

“You've heard others?” I raise an eyebrow, skimming the language, putting on the critical lens I've developed over a hundred research papers. Except it's too late to be saved by being a smart ass .

“I've lived a full life, Skittle. You're not doing a deal with an angel, in case you wondered. We're here for whatever feels like business, plain and simple. Remember ?”

I try not to bristle when he throws my words back at me. “Obviously, I don't expect anything else .”

Yes, obviously. It's an elaborate quid pro quo , I tell myself for the hundredth time. We wouldn't even know each other if we weren't both in a bind .

He needs his castle, his illusion, peace of mind for mother dearest. I need money, a fresh start for me and Vinnie. If it's a miracle we're together, about to put our names on a messed up wedding contract I never thought I'd sign, then it's the strangest kind ever .

The terms are sensible, at least. Typical legalese. They spell out our obligations, the six month term he wants locked in, carrying us early into next year. Payment is more generous than he said – a quarter million beyond what it takes to cover my debt. I've already told Adele to send a million right to Harry's account, and take whatever cut she thinks I owe .

My naked nights in front of the piano are through. But the extra pay he's doling out doesn't sit right with my wonky moral compass. “Go ahead and strike out the salary part. I'll take fifty thousand beyond what we talked about, a normal year of pay, and that's it. I'm perfectly capable of supporting myself for anything beyond that, thank you very much. Really? You're rolling your eyes ?”

He's insufferable. Cade picks up the contract, yanks his pen out of its holder, and runs a thick black line through the section like a dagger. “Done. Modesty intact, beautiful. Would you like me to pretend we met over a lush French dinner, instead of that party for horny old fucks with their dicks hanging out ?”

I'm rolling my eyes this time. “Sure, why not? This whole thing is pretend, isn't it?” I use my sharpest tone, dripping oily sarcasm. “We'll have to come up with a story for Vinnie, though. It won't be easy, convincing him we're serious .”

“Leave that to me,” he says. “And don't bother worrying about it until after we're done here. Read the rest. Make your amendments. I'm sending this off tomorrow. We've got a few weeks turn around for the wedding .”

I do a double take. His eyes are flaming blue mischief. “What? I mean, I knew you wanted to get this going...I just didn't know it'd come together so fast .”

“The quicker, the better. If my friends and family are blitzed out, hit by the shock and awe, it'll give them less time to bombard us with stupid questions. Should slam the door in my cousin's face, too. Then we'll be on maintenance kisses. Easy peasy .”

“Maintenance kisses?” I'm trying not to laugh. He's so casual about marrying a complete stranger it's almost absurd .

“Yeah, the kind where we just do a quick peck in public for appearances. Not the ones where we'll be attached at the face over dinner for my family and friends .”

“You're disgusting!” I hiss. More at myself because I utterly despise the heat imagining his tongue on mine brings .

The rest of the contract is thankfully sane. There's nothing else I want to quarrel over .

It's not like I have the time or money to consult my own attorney, anyway. I tap the cheap, flimsy pen from my school I've pulled from my purse against the contract, frowning when I hit the end .

“What's wrong?” he says, laying his hand on my neck. I never knew a touch so gentle could bathe me in fire .

“Your hand,” I say, shrugging him off. I don't like the coolness replacing his warmth after his skin is off mine. It's sudden, empty, and annoyingly noticeable. “Obviously, we'll be touching if we want to make this look convincing. I realize that. I'll do maintenance kisses, or whatever else. But when it's just you and me, living our little secret, with nobody except this lawyer aware ...”

“Say no more. You're afraid I'll bite, and you should be. Hell, maybe I'd use my teeth to yank down your panties if I'm in the right mood, Ms. Hard-to-Fucking-Get. You're right about me.” He stands up straighter, taller, staring right through me .

Stop making this so damn difficult, I warn him with my eyes, wishing I could telepathically beat it into his head across the empty space between us .

“We're not sleeping together, Cade. We can't. Yeah, we met under...unusual circumstances. But I'm taking this job seriously. I'm trusting you. Deep down, I'm assuming you're a decent man. You won't take anything that isn't yours, or force me to –“

“Stop right there, woman. If you had any clue how many girls have begged to have every inch of me inside them, you'd know force isn't my style. There's no fun in it. I leave my pussy shaken, quenched, and completely fucking soaked. Always aching for more.” He steps closer, holding my eyes hostage, a vicious tone on his tongue like I've hit his faith or politics. “If you really want a binding legal promise, fine. I'm game. Just know I'm not the desperate, slimy fuck I'm sure I look like because I'm shopping for a wife who won't even last a year. And in case it isn't clear, I fully intend to keep getting my dick wet when nobody else is looking, and you're spending long nights hunkered over papyrus, or whatever the fuck you study chasing that fancy degree .”

“Deal.” I keep it to one word, hiding a disappointment that shouldn't even be there .

Of course, he's entitled to see other women. This isn't even real .

Hell, I can do the same, I'm guessing. Not that I have plans to get my V-card punched by a guy I'll have to explain a fake marriage for money to .

No fuss. No muss. No jealousy .

I wish I could suck that last green feeling from my veins .

“Good. In the meantime, as long as we're keeping this professional, you need to get used to these hands,” he says, laying them on me again. “I won't do anything I shouldn't, you have my word. But if you're coming apart in my office, shaking like a damn leaf every time I run these fingers through your rainbow hair ...”

I stiffen when he does it. I hate his heat, I hate his precision, I hate how his words give me goosebumps, a lightning rush beneath the skin. I hate that he makes me want to forget everything I just said, and put myself in a terrible position guaranteed to make this stupid bride job a hundred times more complicated .

“Don't say it,” I whimper. The cap pops off my pen too hard, and I lean over the desk, eager to just sign this and get it over with .

“How the hell do you expect to hug and kiss in public? How am I supposed to show the world I'm happier than a cowboy in the world's best brothel because I just married the hottest woman on the face of this fucking planet?” He grabs my wrist, lifting my hand away, warm breath teasing the back of my neck. “And Skittle ?”

I'm so, so screwed. “Use my pen. Cheap ass purple ink from your Professor's office probably isn't legally binding .”

He shoves his pen through my fingers, mirroring my every movement while I move it over the blank line with my name printed neatly above .

I sign, date, and quietly say my last words. I see my epitaph in the tiny ink smudge lingering on my finger. My end is in the evil words that come to mind while his fingers hug mine to the silver pen, imagining everything else he could do with those powerful hands of his .

Liar. Imposter bride. Virgin .

That's who I am now. The old Skye Coyle is gone .

The new one doesn't have any idea how screwed she's about to be .