The Sinner's Bargain (Contracts & Deceptions #2)

  The Sinner’s Bargain

  Published by Claire Contreras, 2014

  Cover Photo by Najla Qamber

  Photo Rights: Tomasz Zienkiewicz

  Formatting by Champagne Formats

  Edited by Tracey Buckalew

  Copyright © 2014 by Claire Contreras

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems-except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews-without permission in writing from its publisher, Claire Contreras.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s awesome imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons.

  Find other titles by Claire Contreras on Amazon.

  DEDICATION

  QUOTE

  WARNING

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  SNEAK PEEK

  EASY VIRTUE

  I would like to dedicate this book to the two women who read it one thousand and one times, put up with my endless rewrites, random changes and crazy rants about how bad I wanted to trash it. Without them, this book would not have gotten finished.

  This one is for you, Lisa and Rachel.

  And to my readers, for wanting more.

  Warning: If you have not read The Devil’s Contract, please do not proceed. This is not a standalone novel.

  THE WORD “OWN” stayed on Amara’s mind long after it left Colin’s mouth. He made her repeat it back to him, as if he needed an affirmation of what he already knew. It didn’t sit right with Amara. When you own a pet, you promise to look after them, feed them when they’re hungry, make sure they’re okay. In exchange for this, animals are loyal to you. That was one of the reasons Amara had an issue with his sudden feeling of ownership toward her. Humans are fickle beings. We take what’s given to us with very little intent of giving back.

  “You’re scaring me,” Amara whispered, trying to hold in the tears as he glared at her. He’d already made it clear that he didn’t believe they were real tears. He didn’t believe that she could care about him if she’d lied and left him the way she had.

  “Am I?” he asked with a rueful chuckle she’d never heard from him before. His eyes were dark and slightly narrowed on hers, as if he was trying to figure out who the woman in front of him was. As if he hadn’t known her his entire life. As if they hadn’t shared a bed together countless times.

  “Why am I here?” she asked, looking at her surroundings. She hadn’t known what to expect when she’d walked into the apartment. The only thing she knew was that Samuel had sent her here, to him.

  Colin smiled and stepped away, tucking his hands into his pockets. His wavy hair was unruly and was down past his ears, longer than he usually had it. When his right hand sneaked out of his pocket again, it was to scrub over the days-old beard growing on his face. He looked a mess—a refined mess—but still a mess.

  “I hired Samuel to get you here. I’ve jumped through hoops to get you here, Amara,” he said, turning his back to her as he walked toward the bar on the far side of the living room. “And here you are.” He turned, signaling at her, at the apartment. “You’ll stay here as long as you’re in New York, and you’ll be here permanently. I’ve made sure of that.”

  Amara began to wobble slightly on her heels. She leaned back against the floor-to-ceiling window behind her and placed her hands flat on the surface of the cold glass. She wondered absently what would happen if it cracked beneath the pressure. Would she fall or would she soar? She kept her eyes on Colin, the boy who’d saved her from boring family barbeques. The kid who propositioned her in college. The man who owned her heart. But he wasn’t Colin—not the one she knew, anyway—not the easy to love, charming man she knew a short time ago. This guy had a darkness in him that hadn’t been there before.

  “Why?” she asked. The word was a whisper, half-muted by the dryness of her throat.

  He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. “I’m not here to answer any questions. You either work for me, or you work for Philip. The way I see it, you’re better off working for me.”

  “That’s not how this works. I don’t work for Philip. I owe Philip. I’m indebted to him. Under contract. There are lives at stake if I don’t repay.” Her voice was surprisingly steady when she answered. Clearly, channeling her mom—remembering her poor health —was giving her the strength she needed.

  “It’s done with! I paid him. You don’t owe him anything anymore. You’ll be assisting me in Wolfe starting Monday morning, and you’ll be staying here.”

  She knew she wasn’t done with Philip. There was no way. But when Amara opened her mouth to protest, she closed it again. Colin walked toward her with a look that stunned her into silence. He reached her in three long strides as her chest began to work against itself, struggling to breathe. When the scent of his cologne invaded her senses, she focused on not being affected by it. It was the one Colin had always worn, but yet the man in front of her was a stranger. Everything about their encounter felt wrong, even as her stomach dipped in anticipation when his fingers tilted her chin up.

  “I’m watching you.” He dropped his hand and inched his face closer to hers, letting his breath fan over her cheek. “I’m watching everything,” he whispered beside her ear. “We’re going to do this my way now.”

  The squeak of the bedroom door opening alerted Amara of his presence. She’d learned to sleep lightly, always expecting his unannounced visits. Squinting her eyes as unwanted light from the living room seeped in, she propped herself up on her elbows.

  “What now?” she croaked, as Colin’s figure approached her bed.

  He thought it was his prerogative to visit her at any time he liked. According to him, he could do with her as he pleased. He hadn’t touched her, though. Even after a full week, he still hadn’t touched her. She wasn’t sure if she should be upset or thrilled about that, but the uncertainty didn’t last very long. Amara had bigger things to worry about, like her mother’s health and the fact that she still had to go to Wicked, Méchant’s American company, without Colin finding out.

  It wasn’t the fairytale she’d dreamed up for herself when she’d imagined being with him again…probably because she wasn’t with him at all. It felt more like she simply existed in his world, but nothing more.

  “Just checking to see if you’re still here,” Colin responded, as he reached the foot of the bed and sat down heavily.

  “Where would I go?” she asked, leaning up on her elbows to look at him. Even though she couldn’t see him clearly in the dark, she saw his shrugging movement.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure what women who sell their bodies for money are in the habit of doing,” he said. His tone was lighter now, but still had a bite to it that made her cringe.

  “Maybe you should go home and ask Molly.”

  Colin was quiet for a while. “Why did you do it? Why didn’t yo
u ask me for help if you needed it?”

  Amara sighed and plopped back onto her pillow. She could smell the alcohol and cigar smoke on his breath. The only time he wasn’t hostile toward her these days, was when he was drunk, often enough now, especially at night. She probably didn’t owe him an answer—it’s not like he actually cared—but she spoke nonetheless.

  “Things aren’t always what they seem, Colin. You of all people should know that.”

  He shook his head, exhaling loudly. “We used to tell each other everything, Amara.”

  “Not everything. Not really.”

  “I did.”

  Honesty sobered his maple eyes as they flashed in the sliver of moonlight coming through the window, and she was left speechless. She recalled conversations they’d had as teenagers, about college and the way he’d called her at odd hours just to talk. She realized maybe she had told him things more often than not. She had told him about Philip, after all…just not the whole truth. It’s not like she knew the gravity of the situation back then anyway. Still, she wondered. Had she known, would she have told Colin, or would she have kept him in the dark? He was safer there, in the dark, she decided. Amara, however, needed all the light she could get, and she knew Colin could shed some on her.

  “Well, I’m sorry. I couldn’t just ask for help. It’s complicated. Why did you look for me?” she asked, her amber eyes meeting his.

  “I didn’t,” he said, averting his gaze to the comforter he was plucking at distractedly. “I was really, really drunk one night, sitting in my dad’s old office…my sudden new one. I’d opened up Dad’s favorite bottle of bourbon, and just sat, staring at everything and looking through his bookmarks. I saw Méchant’s website come up and noticed he’d been there a lot, so I clicked. I thought it was porn, and like I said, I was drunk. I became intrigued, followed the links, asked for an exotic beauty as a joke, because I mean come on, an exotic beauty…” He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. Amara studied him as he closed his eyes and conjured the memory. “I had already moved on and was looking at other things when they replied and sent your information. Lousy, bullshit information. They described the total opposite of what you are. I almost turned the computer off, but then I saw the name… Jasmine Oliver.” He said the name on a breath, as if it were something pure and untarnished. “At first I thought it was a bad joke, Jasmine Oliver, then I thought it was fate. But when I saw your photo… I knew. I just knew.” When his eyes snapped back to hers, they were sober and serious. “I’d know your eyes anywhere, Amara.”

  Colin scooted closer to where she lay, and Amara held her breath, trying not to break the moment.

  “I felt like I’d been punched right in the heart when I saw that picture. The next day I started looking around, asking people what they knew about the company. At first I found out very little, but Méchant became this thing, this escape I became obsessed with. I had all of this responsibility thrown on me from one day to the next. My dad’s companies, my mom hounding me to marry, and then there was Jasmine Oliver, the girl I could pretend I was somebody else with.”

  “So that’s what you were, somebody else?” she asked quietly.

  “Scoot over,” he said, and she did. He lay beside her, over the covers, careful not to touch her. She wondered if he was intentionally trying to hurt her, because it totally seemed like it.

  “I did feel like I lost a wife when I lost you. That wasn’t a lie,” he whispered as his fingers found hers over the covers.

  “I’m sorry.” Her heart throbbed in her throat as she said the words.

  They lay in silence, fingers intertwined, for a long time, until he finally spoke again.

  “When I got the other half of my dad’s will—the one they wouldn’t read in front of my mom—and in it, I got the Méchant papers, I didn’t know what to make of it. At first I was angry. So fucking angry that my dad owned this whorehouse and my ex-girlfriend—the love of my fucking life—was working there. It killed me.” He paused to sigh, and Amara shut her eyes tightly at the pain in his voice. “When I saw you in New Orleans, I practically begged you to tell me the truth, Amara. I needed you to confirm it then. I think I would have forgiven you if you had.”

  “But I didn’t,” she dared to whisper.

  “But you didn’t,” he said, letting go of her hand abruptly.

  “And now you’re marrying another woman.”

  Colin sat up quickly and chuckled. “Are your feelings hurt, Amara? Does it bother you to know that I’m with another woman? That I’ll be sharing a bed with her for the rest of my life?” Amara’s eyes flashed to his back, broad and slouched over, before she shut them, willing his words away. “I remember giving you a choice. It could have been you! I need to be married before my birthday, and who I marry doesn’t matter, so yes, I am marrying another woman. If that hurts you, the only person you can blame is yourself.”

  Her heart was being used as a sharpening tool, but she refused to give in to the tears building in her eyes. Not while he was there to witness them and call them fake.

  “Do you want to know what else I’ll own once I marry?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure that I should know.”

  “Lotus,” he said anyway.

  “What? How in the world did you end up with my dad’s company?” she asked as she sat up, utterly shocked. Colin angled his body to look at her.

  “Apparently he came to an agreement with my dad at some point; I guess when his gambling became an issue. You know who owns thirty percent of the shares?”

  “Philip,” she grumbled.

  “No, he owns way less than that; he owns what your dad would own.” Colin’s voice was drenched in amusement, and even in the dark, Amara could tell his eyes were set in a crinkling smile. He was having fun at her expense, and that was one thing she would have never seen coming.

  “Who then?”

  “You.”

  “How?” she asked, once she found her voice again.

  Colin shook his head, making a tsk sound as he stood from the bed. “There are a lot of things you don’t know. I can be here all night enlightening that clouded brain of yours.” She began to stand as he walked toward the door, but stopped when he threw his parting words over his shoulder. “But I won’t. My fiancée’s waiting for me at home.”

  Amara sat back down, exhaling and closing her eyes at the sting she felt. She knew he’d wanted to hurt her. She was aware that he was doing it purposely, but understanding why didn’t lessen the blow.

  ON MONDAY MORNING, a limousine took Amara to Wolfe Investments. Over the weekend, she had filled out what seemed like dozens of papers accepting her job as Colin’s new assistant. Amara was replacing the woman who had assisted his father and who was retiring after the news of his death. According to Colin, he had to assure Molly that Amara’s role in Wolfe was only temporary. That hurt like hell.

  As the car came to a stop in the garage, she pushed her shoulders back and thanked the driver, who walked her to the elevator and held out the coffee cup she’d left behind in the cup holder. She took it thankfully and promised to be at that location at the end of the workday Walking into the building, her heels clicked on the marble floor, the staccato rhythm echoing through the lobby. Amara found the elevator and rode it to the fiftieth floor, dreading the moment when the door whooshed open. Even knowing this was temporary, and that it was Colin she’d be working for, Amara was still intimidated by the huge “Wolfe Investments” letters that dominated the wall behind the receptionist desk.

  How many times has she heard Colin comparing going to work at Wolfe to “playing in the big leagues?” She’d always known it, of course, but now, as anticipation ran through her veins, she felt it. Her eyes bounced around the enormous lobby, her head volleying from person to person as they brushed past her. She was so glad she’d worn a charcoal gray pencil skirt and pink blouse, feeling appropriately dressed. And as the older men that walked by looked at her with approval instead of leers, she was sure she’d ma
de the right choice for her first day at Wolfe.

  “Hey! New girl!” a chirpy brunette said as she sat behind the reception desk.

  “Do I look that lost?” Amara asked jokingly.

  The girl, Lisbeth, as her nametag said, laughed. “Yes, and the fact that I was given a full description of you so that I could be on the lookout.”

  “Oh,” Amara said, biting the side of her lower lip as she nodded and looked around once more. “Is it always this hectic in here?”

  “Oh yeah, always. Mr. Wolfe likes to keep everybody moving and doing their job. There are perks though. We get hour lunch breaks, great benefits, and a day off every two weeks, which accumulates nicely if you don’t actually use them every two weeks.” She gave Amara a look that told her this was the best advice ever.

  “So, where do I go?”

  “Well, go by human resources first and drop off your papers… you know what, I’ll show you.”

  Lisbeth rounded the corner and Amara fell into step beside her as the brunette showed her around. They went to human resources, accounting, and the in-house marketing firm, to which Amara paid the closest attention, and then the pair took the elevator up one more floor.

  “This is where you need your key,” Lisbeth said, pulling the card out of Amara’s hand and inserting it into the slot for the last floor of the building. “You can only get up here with that.”

  Amara nodded and looked at the key. “How many people have these?”

  Lisbeth tilted her head as she thought about it. “Hmmm… you, Mr. Wolfe, Mr. Underwood, and… I think that’s it.”

  Underwood. The name froze Amara in place until the elevator doors opened and she was spurred into motion. The women stepped into another lobby, much smaller than the one downstairs, but still larger than most lobbies Amara had seen in an office building. In the center, a big black desk and a matching chair occupied the space. Behind it, a pair of large, ornate doors led to two separate offices.

  “That’s Mr. Wolfe’s.” Lisbeth said, pointing to her left. “That’s Mr. Underwood’s, though I think it’s temporary. I don’t really know. They’re making a lot of changes around here.”