Page 27 of Love so Hot

"No." The word is immediate, sharp, a slap across my metaphorical face. But hey, I was expecting that.

"Really?" I arch an eyebrow, giving her my best 'you sure about that?' look. "You might want to mull it over. Because, sweetheart, I can sweeten the pot."

She hesitates, caught off guard, and I can tell I've got her attention. "I'm listening," she says grudgingly.

"Good choice." I nod approvingly. "If you agree to this little charade, I'll throw in some extra funds for... what is it? Earth Defenders? Sounds like a superhero group, but whatever floats your boat. You could use the money to properly fund an environmental cause of your choosing. Think about it, Willow. Real funding, real change."

Her eyes betray a war waging inside her—ideals versus pragmatism. She stares at the floor, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Think of the good you could do with proper funding," I prod, "rather than just trying to climb trees and chaining yourself to bulldozers."

"Proper funding..." she murmurs, almost to herself. Then, silence. It stretches out, and I let it, because I know how these things work. Give them enough silence and they'll fill it with their own doubts.

"Are you finished?" Willow finally asks, meeting my gaze again. There's a new calculation in those fiery green eyes, a reluctant acknowledgment of the power play at hand.

"That about sums it up."

"So," she starts, skepticism lacing her voice, "is this 'generous' donation of yours just another way to launder your dirty money?"

I chuckle, a low sound that reverberates through the cell. "Willow, please. My offer comes straight from my personal accounts. Clean as a whistle."

"Right," she says, drawing out the word. "Because everything about you screams transparency and ethical practices."

I ignore the jab, leaning forward with hands clasped together. "Believe what you want, but this is your get-out-of-jail-free card. Take it or leave it."

She chews on her bottom lip. I can tell she's trying to figure a way out of this without saying yes. But the only way out is through.

"Fine," she concedes with a heavy sigh, "but just so we're clear, it doesn’t feel like much of a choice."

"Choice," I muse, tilting my head slightly, "is a fiction in this world, Willow. We both know that."

"Philosophical and corrupt," she retorts, rolling her eyes. "What a combo."

"Stick around," I say, standing up. "You might learn a thing or two." My gaze holds hers for just a moment too long. "Fornow, sit tight. My lawyers will talk to the county attorney to drop the charges. You'll be out by this evening. I'll send a car to fetch you."

"Great," she mutters, "can't wait to breathe in all that free air again."

"Free?" I chuckle again. "Nothing's free. Remember that." I pause at the door, then turn back to her. "Actually, scratch the car service. I'll come and pick you up personally."

"Really? And here I thought I'd get at least a few hours without you hovering." The sarcasm drips from her tongue.

I smirk, "Oh, I wouldn't dream of leaving you unattended. Who knows what kind of tree-hugging shenanigans you might get into?"

"Ha, ha," she deadpans. "You're hilarious, really. How ever did you end up single?"

"Charm and good looks can only go so far," I quip, opening the door. "Apparently, some people prefer their fiancés to have a heart."

"Too bad you don't qualify then," she shoots back, but I'm already gone, leaving her to stew.

Chapter Thirteen

Willow

The cool mountainair nips at my cheeks as I step out of Lawrence's gas guzzling SUV—engine still purring like a smug housecat that got the cream. My gaze sweeps up the colossal mansion perched in the mountains like some supervillain's lair, and despite its grandeur, I can't help but scowl. It's stunning, sure, with its vast windows gleaming in the sunlight and ivy crawling over stone walls like nature's own graffiti, but it screams 'Lawrence Sinclair' in a way that makes my stomach churn.

"Compensating for something?" I mutter under my breath, the words dissolving into the crisp Greenwood Hollow air.

"Did you say something?" Lawrence asks, his voice smooth like honey but not nearly as sweet.

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