Chapter 79

“I am completely at your mercy.” She planted her hands on her hips, meeting his gaze. “I have nowhere else to turn. No one else can help me.”

He smiled, clearly pleased by the thought. Delighted at having her right where he wanted her. His expression left her with the unpleasant sensation that he’d been manipulating her into this very position.

“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then I want you back in my life. I want you to be mine again….I want you back in my bed.”

Numbness crept over her body as his words echoed through the room, her mind barely comprehending his meaning. “You want me to sleep with you for money? You want me to prostitute myself?”

“Think of it however you need to. But yes, that’s what I want.”

Part of him expected her to slap him. Or maybe to throw something at him. Instead, she merely stared at him, looking as if she herself had been slapped. Her eyes were wide, her face pale with shock. But she didn’t run.

She didn’t leave. Didn’t do any of the things he expected her to do.

He had only made such an outrageous proposal because he knew how she’d react. The Candace he’d knew would never let a guy get away with saying something like that to her. She was brave and strong. When she got pushed, she pushed back. Hard.

So he’d propositioned her, knowing it would tick her off. Knowing it was the one surefire way to rile her temper and get her to storm out. But instead of angry, she looked confused. Hurt maybe. As if that was the last thing she’d have expected from him. And then—as if he wasn’t already feeling like the asshole who was going around kicking puppies, damn it—he watched her expression as the full implication of his outrageous words sank in. Her cheeks pinkened delicately.

Yet still he didn’t get the outrage he expected. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to snatch back his words. The man he'd been months ago reared his head, compelling him now to protect her. He knew she hated being this vulnerable. He knew she hated having to ask him for this. He knew how hard this must be for her. He wanted to go to her, wrap her in his embrace and rock her back and forth. To promise her he’d do everything in his power to keep her safe. To protect her. Forever.

And, damn it, wasn’t that exactly what he'd had in mind in the first place. Hadn’t this whole mess of crap started because he’d wanted to cherish and protect her and be close to her? But when push came to shove, she’d rammed all his tender emotions down his throat. Candace didn’t need any protecting. She was a user. She was trying to use him now. And he was mere seconds from falling for it all over again.

What was he supposed to do? Ask her to leave? Oh, pretty please, leave me alone so I can cry in private. What was he—a thirteen-year-old? He was better than this. Tougher than this. He had to get her out of here. Now.

“That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

He held his breath. Praying she’d do what any sane woman would have done minutes ago: slap the arrogant grin off his face and storm out.

She didn’t slap him. She merely pressed her lips into a disapproving I-expected-better-of-you-than-this line and turned and walked out.

He sank back in his chair as relief washed over him. She was gone. He’d never have to deal with her again. He could get back to his normal, sane, miserable life. Or so he thought.

Not fifteen minutes later, his office door swung open, banging emphatically against the wall from the force. Candace, looking grimly determined, marched back into the room.

She glared at him as she bit out, “Let me know the time and place and I’ll be there. Bring your checkbook… Or whatever you need to make the transfer,”

A moment later, she was gone and he was left staring into space.

Well, hell.

___________

By Friday evening at eight forty-two—approximately twenty-four hours after receiving an e-mail that read simply, “Your house, nine o’clock, Friday,” Candace was beginning to wonder if she shouldn’t rethink her strategy.

With Andrew and Michelle thankfully out of the house, she paced back and forth along the length of the living room, and as she did, a single question haunted her: how the hell had she found herself in this situation?

She reached the center of the room, and took a detour. Oh she knew just how she'd gotten into this? She was a sucker for the wounded. It was why over and over again she’d meddled into Michelle's life… Trying to fix everything even though she wasn't asked to. It was why she'd stepped in to bail out her brother out of this mess. It was why she’d promised him she’d find a way to pay off his debt. And it was why she’d agreed to meet with Nolan tonight.

Clearly, she and Nolan both needed closure. She wasn’t fool enough to imagine that this bargain they’d struck was about anything other than revenge.

She had hurt him and she'd wounded his pride. She knew all about wounded pride. All about the lengths people would go to save face. Which put her in the position of seeing straight through Nolan's awful behavior. Even though it was aimed at her.

She knew he didn’t actually want her. This wasn’t about sex for him. Which was all well and good because she certainly had no intention of actually sleeping with him. He just needed to play this farce out so he’d feel like he’d regained his dignity.

Apparently, the way she'd ended their relationship had hurt him badly. If all went as planned tonight, she’d force him after to confront the past. It would do them both good. They’d talk about their brief relationship like reasonable adults.

He might resist as first, but eventually he’d see the benefit of hashing it all out. And maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to talk him into loaning her the money. Not giving it to her, and certainly not in exchange for…well, for anything. But a nice simple loan that she’d be able to pay off in…oh, about eighty or ninety years.