The Sinner's Bargain (Contracts & Deceptions #2) Page 9

  “Just leave the phones, Mara. You have to eat too.” Colin’s voice stopped her short.

  “It’ll get cold,” Brandon added.

  “Fine. Only because I hate cold food,” she said, turning back and sitting across from where Colin seemed to be headed.

  Amara reached over the table, grabbed a paper plate and began to spoon Chinese food on her plate—special fried rice, spicy shrimp and fried wontons. Brandon served his and sat across from her, where she’d thought Colin would sit, and Colin, being the asshole that he was, sat right beside her. Right. Beside. Her. That meant that she could smell his dizzying cologne, and when he brushed his arm against her, she nearly jumped out of her seat. Amara hated the way he made her feel —like she might puke from the butterflies that fluttered through her stomach on their way to nowhere.

  “Here,” Colin said. He had an open mustard packet that he held over her plate. When she moved her hands, he started to squirt it over her rice and shrimp, just the way she liked it. It was both sweet and infuriating that he remembered she loved that.

  “Thanks,” she said under her breath. His chuckle let her know he heard her.

  “How was your trip?” he asked, and again Amara stilled her movements.

  “It was fine.”

  “Where did you go?” Brandon asked.

  Amara’s eyes snapped up from her food to Brandon, then to Colin. His brown eyes showed no emotion, making her even angrier for goading her.

  “Washington.”

  “State?”

  “No, D.C.”

  “Oh, what’d you do there?” Brandon asked as he took a sip of his water. Amara and Colin were too busy having a staring competition to eat.

  “I had business to take care of.”

  “For Wolfe?” Brandon asked, confused.

  She tore her gaze from Colin to meet Brandon’s gaze. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  Brandon shrugged and changed the subject, “I thought you hated Mr. Pibb,” he said looking at Colin.

  “It’s his favorite,” she said with a frown before Colin could answer.

  “Huh,” Brandon said, amused.

  “What?” Colin asked.

  “It’s my favorite too. Molly told me you hated it.”

  Colin glanced at Amara before she averted her eyes with an eye roll and a small smirk.

  “Speaking of Molly, how was the engagement party? Sorry we couldn’t make it.” Brandon’s words felt like a dagger in her heart. Amara didn’t move—couldn’t breathe. She sat quietly, feigning interest in her plate while she waited for this conversation to be over.

  “No big deal. I didn’t go either,” Colin said.His words shouldn’t have relieved her…but they did. She shouldn’t have cared about where he went… but she did. Amara told herself on her way back from D.C. that she would try to cut as many ties as she could with Colin. But she couldn’t.

  Brandon coughed up a laugh. “You didn’t go to your own engagement party?”

  “I think everybody sees past the pretenses, Brandon,” Colin said in a tired voice.

  “I agree, but you’ve been going along with it, so I figured you would be there. What did Molly say about you skipping it?”

  She saw Colin’s shrug in her peripheral vision. “I was waiting for an important phone call all weekend. I didn’t have time to worry about what anybody thought.”

  “Holy shit. You didn’t tell her you weren’t going, did you?” Brandon asked. Amara finally looked up just in time to see surprise flit across his face. He was barely holding on to his fork, his mouth hanging open.

  “I have more important things to worry about,” Colin snapped. Amara could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He sat too close to her, and the conversation had turned in a direction way too personal for her to handle.

  “So, Amara, what are you up to this weekend?” Brandon asked after a long pause.

  “Nothing exciting.” Other than auctioning myself off to some rich old horny bastard or being purposely placed in some crazy possible terrorists hands. “How about you?”

  “Having a housewarming party. Do you want to come? Chloe wants to meet you.”

  “I thought you’d been living in the same place for a year now.” Amara said with a frown.

  “We have, but it wasn’t up to par with Chloe’s standards for a housewarming party.”

  She laughed. “So you haven’t had anybody over since you moved there?”

  Brandon grinned. “We have, just no housewarming party.”

  “Okay, what day is it?”

  “Friday.”

  “Oh,” she said, her shoulders slumping slightly. As long as she was at Méchant, she was never going to have a normal life. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t busy,” Colin said.

  Her eyes cut to his. “I said I wasn’t doing anything exciting.”

  “So you can go to the party,” Colin responded, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms in front of his chest.

  “I’m not sure why you care either way, what’s it to you?”

  “Nothing, I just don’t understand why you always have to sell out.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Sell out? When have I sold anybody out?”

  There was a sudden gleam of amusement in Colin’s eyes that she didn’t appreciate. She braced herself for it. “Oh, that’s right, you only sell yourself… out.”

  Anger spread through her like wild fire. Amara ground her teeth and let out a harsh breath. “You are such…. Forget it. I can’t even talk to you right now.”

  “Hey,” Brandon said waving his hands exaggeratedly. “I don’t want to be caught up in the middle of a domestic dispute.”

  “I’m not sure someone who can’t even wash his own clothes can be considered as domesticated,” Amara said, her eyes narrowed at Colin.

  Colin glared at her. “I wash my own clothes.”

  She gave him an obvious once over. “Yeah, maybe… your shirt does look a little stained.”

  Brandon laughed loudly. Colin continued to glare, though it was losing its bite and regaining a tiny bit of playfulness. They looked at each other for a long moment and then he smiled.

  “Forgive me if I’m not up to your standards, Ms. Maloof. Maybe you should come over tonight and show me how it’s done.” His flirtatious tone made her body hum with pleasure. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, that smile, those lips she wanted on her. She felt heat spread between her legs. It was as if everything he had done to upset her vanished in the instant he graced her with his smile.

  “You guys might just beat me and Chloe on The Newlywed Game. You sure you can’t come on Friday?”

  And just like that, the magic was gone. Amara averted her eyes and went back to her food. “I’m sure. Thanks for the invite though.”

  COURTNEY’S SILENCE WORRIED Amara more than she cared to admit. She had no reason to doubt her friend. She’d given no reason not to trust her, but Amara had begun to worry when she’d asked about the auction and received silence in response. Courtney’s silence only meant two things to Amara: 1- Philip was watching her or 2- She was hanging on by a loose thread herself. Either way, Amara knew enough to know that Courtney couldn’t afford to be stuck in a bind.

  “They always hold an auction,” Courtney said when she spoke to her last.

  “I understand that. I just want to know what it’s like so I can be prepared for it,” she whispered back.

  “Have you been to an auction before?”

  “Well, yeah, but not a human auction…”

  “Well, it’s the same thing. Instead of auctioning off a signed ball, they have girls up there while a select group of Méchant clients sit around and bid.”

  The rush of Amara’s exhaling filled the line. “I think I can do that.”

  “You can and you will. Stay put, you’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks.”

  Silence drew out and Courtney exhaled in
to the line. “Have you told Colin about it?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes we say things to people we think we can trust. I still think it’s a little strange that he found you here. I mean… he found you and then somehow convinced Philip to let him keep you working for his company. It’s so…”

  “What? It’s so what?” Amara asked in a rush, the sound of blood rushing her ears deafening her momentarily.

  “I don’t know, just weird. Just be careful.”

  “I am being careful. Colin isn’t… he isn’t a bad person.”

  “I never said he was. All right, I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Hey, Court,” Amara said before she could hang up.

  “Yeah?”

  “I saw Sam the other day.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. He was a total asshole.”

  “Don’t take it personal, I’m sure he has a lot on his plate,” Courtney said with a small laugh.

  “I guess. It’s just hard you know, trying to figure out who’s telling you the truth and who’s just using you.” What she’d said about Colin was playing over in her head as she said the words.

  Courtney was silent for a moment. “I know.”

  “’Kay, well, I’ll let you go, I just got here.”

  “Good luck.”

  As she walked up to the warehouse door, Amara felt no nervous flutters, only dismay as her mind drifted to her meeting with Philip and Jennings. She was only sure of one thing: she needed to finish this job before it finished her. As Amara knocked on the door, a young, slender girl greeted her. Amara stopped and gaped at her, juggling her cell phone so she didn’t drop it. Looking at the girl was almost like looking in the mirror, five years ago. She knew she wasn’t crazy; the girl must have thought the same thing, judging by the way she returned Amara’s stare.

  “What’s your name?” the girl asked, her voice quiet, her shy eyes dropping to the floor as she spoke the words.

  “Amara. What’s yours?”

  “Ava.”

  “Ava…How old are you, Ava?”

  She brought up her wide eyes to meet Amara’s. “Eighteen.”

  Heavy footsteps tore their eyes away from the other’s to watch Samuel approach. “Amara,” he said, looking between the two girls. “Upstairs please.”

  “I’ll see you later,” Ava whispered as she locked the door and scrambled down a dark corridor.

  “Who was that?” Amara asked Sam as she trailed behind him.

  “That was Ava.”

  “Yes, I caught that. She looks—“

  “Just like you.”

  “I know. How?”

  Sam stopped walking and turned around. “You think your looks are original?”

  “I never said that.”

  He shrugged and turned back around, twisting the knob on the black door in front of him. It opened up to a large office, similar to the one Philip had in Paris. This one was bigger though. It had two desks, one old mahogany, and one more modern and sleek. Amara guessed he would sit in the more modern one, and he did. She sat in the chair across from him, her gaze flickering to the other side of the room.

  “Whose desk is that?”

  “Philip’s.”

  “You share an office?”

  Samuel shrugged. “We’re not normally here at the same time. We do talk, you know. We’re in the same business.” When Amara continued to stare, dumbfounded, he continued, “Doesn’t mean we like it.”

  “Business,” Amara muttered with an eye roll.

  “Yes, business. We get paid for what we do.”

  “And what is it that you do? I think I have an idea of what Philip does now, but I can’t figure out what it is you do.”

  “I’ll show you.” He smiled as he began opening drawers in his desk. “We’re fixers. People have problems, we fix them,” he said as he took out a file.

  “Seems like you make them worse.”

  He grinned as he put the file down and leaned back in his seat. “Sometimes we do, but usually not for the client. We always fix their problems.”

  Amara nodded. “How much does it cost to hire you so you can fix a problem?”

  “Depends on the problem. You need me to put a bullet in someone’s head? Maybe a pretty lady marrying your ex-boyfriend?” He cocked his head and started nonchalantly, while throwing a stress ball in the air and catching it. Her eyes widened.

  “No. I was just wondering.”

  “Well, it depends on the job.” He stopped throwing the ball and placed his hands over the file. “You’re a steep price and someone paid it.”

  She scoffed. “That’s what I hear, yet here I am.”

  “Yes, here you are, but now you understand why.”

  “Sort of, yeah.”

  “And now you’re on board with this whole thing,” he said waving his hands around the office.

  “Ummm… no. I don’t think I’ll ever be on board with this whole thing,” she said, mimicking his movements with her own.

  “You don’t have to be. You just need to keep your head in the game, do what you’re told, and be done with it. Stop listening to those who tell you they know what’s best for you, because they don’t.”

  “I don’t follow,” she said, even though she had an idea of what he was talking about.

  “Colin thinks he has a clear vision of what’s going on. He thinks he’s figured out why you were here to begin with, and I let him think he paid your debt off because, well… I thought it would get him off our backs.”

  Amara couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat, so she just stared at Samuel, dreading his next words.

  “As far as I see, he’s more in the way than ever before. He’s digging around, trying to find anything he can on us, and in the process, distracting you… you can imagine how we feel about this.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked quietly.

  “I’m not sure yet. It depends on what happens tonight—on what happens with this job. We’ve been working on this for a long time, Amara. A long, long time. I’m sure Philip told you that though.”

  She nodded.

  “What else did Philip tell you on your little trip last weekend?”

  “I…not much. Just the same things you’re saying now.”

  Samuel leaned forward, resting his torso on the desk as he spoke, letting the gravity of the situation color his words. “Who did you meet while you were there?”

  “Why don’t you ask Philip?” Amara whispered, hoping the fear he was placing in her didn’t show in her eyes.

  He stayed silent for a moment, his eyes boring into hers. “Have you ever been betrayed? Really betrayed?”

  Amara’s heart began to thunder into her ears. “Yes.”

  “Who did it?”

  There was only one answer: her father, but she didn’t voice it. She didn’t have to.

  “It wasn’t Philip, it wasn’t me… betrayal only hurts when somebody you don’t expect does the stabbing. If it was somebody you were expecting, you wouldn’t feel it as much…it wouldn’t hurt as bad…it wouldn’t cut as deep.”

  “What’s your point?” she sputtered, hating the direction their conversation was going.

  “My point is, the person who has the heaviest hold over you is the one with the power to hurt you. You should be careful around Colin.”

  Amara stood up quickly, her chair scraping against the floor beneath her. “Where am I supposed to wait for this auction?”

  Sam exhaled and shook his head. “I’ll take you to your room now. The men coming tonight will bid on each girl that goes on stage. We’re certain the man looking for you will be here.”

  Amara figured he would be, but having it confirmed made her feel like she was running out of air.

  “We don’t know who he is, but we have an idea of what he looks like. There was a time we thought it was more than one man, but now we think it’s only the one. He always preys on women that look like you. Th
at’s why all the girls here tonight look like you.”

  Her mouth popped open. “How does he know what I look like?”

  “If my sources are telling the truth, they heard it from the horses’ mouth.”

  “My grandfather. The sultan,” Amara said quietly. “What happens after he wins? If he bids on me?”

  “We follow him wherever he takes you and track him down.”

  Amara slumped back down into the seat again, her legs wobbling in exhaustion as nervous sparks flittered through her body. “Sam, this is really dangerous.”

  “We’ll take care of you.”

  Frightened tears threatened to spill, and she fought to keep them in check. “What if you can’t?” she whispered. “What if he kills me?”

  “He needs you alive, Amara.”

  “How do you know? What if it’s one of those accounts that only need my eyeball or something?”

  Samuel looked flustered for a second. “Well, in that case he would only take your eye; he wouldn’t need to kill you.”

  “Ohmygod.” She buried her face in her hands. “This is serious, Sam! Would you let Courtney go off with some guy like that? This guy?”

  Her fingers fanned open so she could look at his face. He seemed pensive. “She’s been through worse.”

  Amara gaped at him. “Courtney’s had years to get used to this weird life you guys live! I didn’t sign up for this shit! I was going to repay a debt, that’s it!”

  Samuel sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted and tired of the mess they’d been thrown into. None of his clients were as complicated as this one. Or as dangerous. “You’re not going to lose your eyes. They need you to talk and sign papers in order to get to that bank account, that’s it.”

  “But I never signed any papers for it to begin with,” she argued.