Page 5 of His Dark Pact

“Dinner?” Her throat dried. No one had offered to buy her dinner for years. She and Graham had scarcely had the money for such luxuries, and there had been no one else.

“Yes.” He pushed the loaf gently at her. “It’s a meal that people eat at the end of the day.”

“Yes.” Her tone was wry as she accepted the bread. “I know what dinner is. I just can’t...” She paused, considering all the reasons why she shouldn’t accept such an offer from a stranger. “I shouldn’t say yes. I don’t really know you.”

“I promise to be a gentleman.” He feigned a salute. “But I’d still like to have dinner with you.”

With me?

The words hovered on the tip of her tongue. Why would anyone so attractive and self-assured choose to socialize with her? She still owned one mirror, after all. She was aware of how rundown and bedraggled she looked most of the time. She just didn’t have the will, or funds, to do anything about her appearance.

“I... I don’t know what to say.”

The hustle and bustle of other shoppers continued around her, but everyone else had faded into the background, like an uninspiring score in a compelling movie.

“Say, yes.” He leaned closer, and for the faintest moment, the aroma of his spicy cologne tantalized her nostrils. Rich and earthy, the scent was as enticing as the man.

“Yes.” The word was past her lips as though he’d commanded it.

Clutching the bread to her chest, Amy wondered if she should take it back, but gazing up at the Adonis, who seemed keen to dine with her, she guessed he wouldn’t accept the answer, anyway. She couldn’t remember meeting anyone who’d captivated her as easily as Kyle.

“Excellent.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, he produced a small card, which he offered to her. “Here’s my card. In the interests of parity and because I know a lady is allowed to change her mind, I’ll leave it to you to get in touch.”

“Thank you.”

She took the pristine-looking card from his manicured digits, running her fingertips over the hard edges. Her attention fell briefly to the font—a sharp black set against the ivory background—and examined the wording.

William Kyle.

His phone number was listed below in the same stylish calligraphy, but there was no mention of what he did for a living.

Who carries a card but doesn’t include their profession?

“Will you call me, Amy?” His soft purr cut through the intensity of her internal monologue and there wasn’t a moment’s hesitation as she gave her response.

“Yes, Mr. Kyle. I will.”

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