Page 42 of The Bargain

“At least I do right by you, don’t I, baby?” I sighed, getting him out of his bed and keeping him close to my heart. Having him in my arms always helped me feel better.

I sat on the rocking chair in the corner of the room, singing softly as I rocked Timmy.

I’d never thought I could feel as ashamed and inconsequential as I did at this moment, but I’d been wrong, so wrong...

And when I thought nothing could make me feel worse, I came back after breakfast in my room and found a folder on my bed. It was a printed letter from Wisteria college, a private and very fancy institution. It contains all log-ins information for a three years online course of my choice for which the tuitions had already been paid.

I hated myself. I had sold myself for money. For the first time in my life, I really felt like the prostitute I was pretending to be.

I folded the contract shut and slammed my hand over it.

“What the fucking shit is this?!” I asked Phil, who was sitting across from me. “They can’t just come around two days before closing and change all the terms.”

Phil nodded. “They want us to pull out.”

“You think?” I growled. “Fuck! It took us months to get to this point! How much time do they think we can waste on their dying company?”

“You know what? Offer them even less than what you came back with.”

I looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. He was as cunning as they came though. So I knew there had to be a reason for what he’d said. “Okay?”

He grinned, leaning forward. “Go twenty percent down on shares and the price of our original offer.”

“Thentheywill pull out.”

Phil nodded. “Exactly, they’ll use this low-ball offer to withdraw from our initial agreement because Maxwell made them an offer much higher than you did.”

I ran a hand down my face. Maxwell Corp - fucking cockroaches. Much smaller than Beaumont Enterprises was, but still a thorn in my side...like the girl sharing my space. I sighed. “Fucking Maxwell.”

I didn’t need to buy Qahwa, the dying cafe chain we were discussing, but it would offer diversity to our portfolio plus we’d spent hours with teams of experts, organizing the restructuring plan. Not getting it would not make a dent in my fortune or power, but getting it? I could turn that chain into gold.

Phil laughed. “Don’t you worry, Maxwell shares will plummet tomorrow when photos of Richard Maxwell having sex with Craig Winter, the famous stockbroker, will be printed on the first page of a few newspapers. The scandal will destroy them! Cheating husband, closeted gay, and suspected insider trading.” He counted on his fingers. “Maxwell’s partners will freeze any ongoing agreement for the foreseeable future. Meaning that the deal with Qahwa will die.”

“How long have you known?” I asked in a huff. I was so awed by the extent of his sick, twisted mind.

He shrugged, his grin widening. “A while. I just needed the right moment to use it. He’d been sniffing a bit too close from this takeover; I was ready to strike if needed.”

“You’re so cunning.”

He bowed his head. “Thank you. Now send this and give them three hours to approve. They won’t. They’ll pull out. They will lose their partner in the morning and they’ll come back begging. I’ll go to New York for you and have them sign ten percent lower than the low-ball offer you just made.”

“That will be a saving of -” I started to count.

“Forty-three million. You’re welcome.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’re one of a kind, Phil.”

“I know.” He nodded. “How are things going with the whore?” he asked as I started to reply to Qhawa’s owner.

My typing faltered. For some reason that rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t like how he’d mentioned her with that sick light in his eyes. It also bothered me that he called her a whore. That was what she was though, plain and simple and yet...

I sighed, keeping my face as emotionless as I could. “She’s staying out of my way,” I replied coldly. “I’ll just need to find another way to deal with her.”

She’d been avoiding me for the past few days, ever since that blowjob in the library. As far as blowjobs were concerned, it has been clumsy - barely passable and not something I’d expected from such a professional, and yet, I couldn't get it out of my mind. I kept seeing her on her knees, my cock sliding in and out of her mouth. She’d let me use her mouth, fuck her face with all the pent-up aggression I’d felt, and she’d taken it with a kindness I hadn’t expected or deserved. Her eyes had reflected her eagerness to please me. Why was that? And then, despite her lack of skill, I’d come harder than I ever had.

I hadn’t intended to keep my promise. I’d been honest when I’d told her that that blowjob hadn’t been worth much and yet, a nagging little feeling of guilt had followed me for the rest of the day, haunting my every thought, my every action, lingering at the back of my barely existing conscience.

When I’d turned on the computer, I’d been surprised by her web history. She’d seemed to truly want an education. I wasn’t sure why I ended up paying for a college that was so good it didn’t even make her sad, pathetic list.

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