SAVAGE LOVE

Chapter 9

“So, tell me, why have you come here today?”

I sighed and looked down at my hands. I suddenly felt self-conscious, nervous about how to start this off. Trading insults was easy. Begging was not.

“I was hoping we could reach some sort of agreement. I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day.”

“Which part?” he cut in. “Was it when I told you your boyfriend was a gutter rat, or the part where I told you I don’t do negotiations?”

He wasn’t going to make this easy for me.

“But you did offer a negotiation, didn’t you? There was a deal on the table, as you put it.”

He placed his glass down slowly and looked up at me. I noticed that the dull, grey eyes I’d looked into twenty-four hours ago were now sparkling and alive.

“So, you want to take me up on my offer? One month? You and me?”

“No.” I clamped my mouth shut, willing myself not to insult him again, but to form my words carefully and engage my brain before I spoke.

“No?” He frowned.

“Well, what I meant to say is not quite. I have some of my own terms to add.”

“Go on.” He leaned forward, steepling his fingers together and looking intrigued.

I twisted my hands in my lap as nerves overtook me. He made me feel like an insecure teenager again. Like I was sat in the headmaster’s office, waiting to be punished.

“I’ll do your one month. I’ll act like I like you, and do what I can to get you those contracts you want.”

“That’s big of you.” He c****d his eyebrow as if he was making fun of me and it set me on edge.

“Isn’t it? I mean it’s going to be a stretch acting like I like you, when insulting you just comes so naturally.”

He huffed in annoyance, and I slapped my hand on my forehead.

“See, it spills out when I don’t even mean it to. Damn, what am I even doing here?” I whined.

“Insulting me? Oh, and trying to save your junkie boyfriend’s ass.”

“Fiancé,” I spat, and he glowered menacingly back at me. “Look, I’ll do it. I will. But I have something you need to do for me too. Well, two things, actually.”

“Not asking for much then?”

“You haven’t heard my terms yet!”

He waved his hand in the air for me to go on, as he appeared to look disinterested, but he was a rubbish liar. The hunger in his eyes gave him away.

“I’d need this to stay secret from Timothy. I wouldn’t want him to know I was doing this.”

“And how do you propose to stay in my apartment for four weeks without your fiancé finding out?”

“That’s where the second term comes in.” I bit my lip nervously then took the proverbial jump. “I want you to pay for Timothy to go into a good rehab facility for those four weeks. You’re gonna help me to get him clean.”

I waited for the impending rebuff, or snigger at my audacity, but it never came. Instead, Michael Douglas sat still in thought, rubbing over his five o’clock-shadowed square jaw and looking me dead in the eyes. When he finally replied, I almost fell off my chair.

“Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll do it?” My heart gave a little skip at the prospect of saving my Timothy.

“Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll meet your terms, but I have one last term of my own.”

I knew there’d be a catch.

“Three months.”

“THREE MONTHS? Hell no! I’m not living with you for three months. One was pushing it, but three? I’d kill you in your sleep and not feel sorry.”

He didn’t laugh, just kept his intense, grey eyes directly on mine. “If you want your boy clean, I mean really clean, and to stay that way, he needs a ninety day intensive rehab program. Somewhere far away would be best, where they can get all that s**t out of his system and keep it out. That’s what you want, right? One month-” he grimaced and shook his head. “It’d never stick. But three months? That might work. If he’s got the balls to do it.”

I knew what he was saying made sense, and in all honesty, Timothy did need a ninety day program. I’d done my research throughout the night. I’d found a few facilities online that offered that kind of treatment, but it had seemed a bit too audacious for me to try for that. I figured one month was already pushing my luck.

“You promise he’ll never find out about my living arrangements during those three months?”

I surprised even myself that I was coming round to his terms so easily, but I was frantic with worry for Timothy. I think I’d have agreed to most things to get him the help he needed, and get the debts cleared so we could move on with our lives.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Remind me, why do I have to live with you? Can’t I just stay at Timothy’s and you pick me up when you need me to do your bidding?” I was testing him, I knew that, but I had to ask.

“I think you’ve negotiated enough. Besides, I’d quite enjoy making you suffer on a daily basis. I’m not offering a holiday here. It won’t be a walk in the park.”

Who was he kidding? Did he think I was expecting moonlight and roses?

“I’d expect nothing less. If you think you’ll break me, then game on. But I think you’ll find I’m no pushover.” He smirked at my admission, which only served to rile me even more. “Trust me, if there was any other way I’d be heading down that path right now. I’m only doing this for Timothy.” He clenched his jaw in annoyance, which made me smile smugly. “So, the debts will be wiped off?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the catch?” I furrowed my brow and waited for the sneer or cackle of laughter.

“What do you mean?” His face didn’t move a muscle, not a smile or a smirk, nothing.

“Well, it seems I’m getting the better deal here. I mean, you could ask any girl out there to pose as your fake girlfriend. Why me?”

He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together like some Bond villain. I expected a cat to hop up on his lap at any minute, ready to be stroked.

“Let’s just say it works in both of our favors if we do this. It’ll be purely business. No risk, no complications. Just a mutually beneficial business deal, Bianca.”

He c****d his head to the side and the smile he gave me was unnerving. He had something else up his sleeve, I just knew it, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Why do I feel like there’s a hidden catch?”

He threw back the last of his whiskey, or whatever it was he was drinking and sighed. “Well, that’s where you’re going to have to trust me isn’t it?”

“Trust you? That’s something I’ll never do. Why would I trust the devil?”

His eyes sparkled. “Smart move.” He grinned and stood up from behind his desk.

I took this as my cue to leave, and turned to walk towards the door.

“So, when does this start?” I asked, still not quite believing what I’d signed myself up for. I mean, three months? Ninety days? That was a hell of a lot of hours. I couldn’t even focus properly to do the math.

“Tonight.”

“No!” I almost choked. “I can’t do tonight. I need to have some time to talk to Timothy, give him some story about the rehab and what’s going to happen. I can’t just disappear.”

He didn’t look impressed, and I expected him to refuse, but he relented. “Fine. Tomorrow. I’ll send a car to your apartment at noon to take him to rehab. Then my driver will collect you at one o’clock. Be ready. You won’t be going back to that apartment for another twelve weeks, so make sure you pack what you need.”

“Arsenic, hand gun, taser, mace. Anything else?”