Page 76 of A Deal with the Bossy Devil

“You get two things and I only get one? That doesn’t seem fair.”

I shrugged. “What else do you want?”

Adrien rolled his lips as he studied me. “I want you to tell me why you didn’t go to college. I want the truth, the full story.”

He really didn’t want to let that one go, did he? “What makes you think there’s a story there?”

“Like I said, it doesn’t add up. I’ve seen your academic record.”

“You’ve also seen my criminal record.”

“It doesn’t add up, Sanchez. You had an entirely spotless record for eighteen years, a near-perfect GPA, you were chosen as the class valedictorian, and less than a month before graduation you get charged with mischief of all things? For vandalism?”

“High school students do dumb shit all the time,” I said, ignoring the uncomfortable tugging in my chest. “I did a dumb thing, and then I paid the price for it.”

Adrien shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Even if you did do a dumb thing… I understand losing any scholarships as a consequence, but not the opportunity to pursue a postsecondary education altogether. If I win, you have to tell me what happened.”

The tugging grew stronger, making my insides curl.

Why wouldn’t he just let this go? Why did it even matter to him?

“Fine,” I said. But only because I really wanted him to lighten Alba’s workload, and I hadn’t thought to make it a condition before agreeing to the fake engagement nonsense. “But the burden of proof lies with you. You have to prove, beyond any reasonable doubt, that you and I have chemistry. And that I’m attracted to you or whatever.” Which was impossible. Chemistry wasn’t something tangible you could see or touch orprove. It was a feeling; a connection; an obscure pull between two people.

And how the hell could you provide solid, irrefutable evidence of something so incredibly abstract? How would you go about proving that two people were attracted to each other without hooking them up to a bunch of machines and monitoring their heart rates and hormone levels?

Adrien finished off his drink with a cocky smirk, then put the empty tumbler down on the table. “Deal.”

His voice held so much confidence that it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand in warning. I polished off my own cocktail and put the empty glass beside his. Then I crossed my arms, leaned back, and eyed him warily. “Okay… now what?”

“Now you pick a safeword.”

I reeled, my stomach flopping upside down. “Pardon?”

“A safeword is a code word that signals—”

“I know what a safeword is,” I snapped at him, already annoyed. My cheeks were starting to feel hot.

His grin widened, his dimples deepened, and my blood pressure climbed higher and higher. “So pick one.”

I crossed my arms tighter. “I’m asking youwhyI need one. What the hell are you going to do?”

He shrugged. “You’ll see.”

My eyes narrowed. “Do you get a safeword?”

“I don’t need one.”

“How do you know?”

Adrien pushed a hand through his dark hair and released a sharp exhale through his nose. The smile never left his face, though. It was like he couldn’t decide whether he was annoyed or entertained.

“If you don’t pick a word, I’m going to pick one for you,” he said.

I tilted my head. “If you pick mine, I’m picking yours.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

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