Page 41 of The Final Contract
My head tips back, eyes on the ceiling as my hands plant on my hips. A rough huff tears out of me, sharp with frustration.
This is exactly why I can’t get wrapped up in her. Can’t let her into my head. Because that prick got right next to her and could’ve done anything. If he meant to kill her, she’d already be gone.
I glance at her, jaw tight. I know this is going to start a fight, but fuck it.
“We need to stop the suitor dates.”
The flicker of fear in her face burns away in an instant, replaced by pure fire.
“Excuse me?” she snaps.
“You heard me.” I fold my arms across my chest. “It’s too dangerous. The bastard is getting closer every time. You keep parading around on these dates, you’re just handin’ him opportunities.”
Her chin lifts, eyes flashing. “I’m not canceling my life because some psychopath wants to rattle me. You think hiding me away is the answer?”
“It’s keeping you alive,” I bite back.
Her hands slam down on the counter. “It’s my choice. My contracts. My future. You don’t get to decide for me.”
“Like hell I don’t,” I growl, stepping in close, heat sparking between us. “Not when your choices put you in the crosshairs.”
Her lips part like she’s about to let me have it, but Eve’s voice slices through the air.
“You two fucking?”
“What?” Sera shrieks, spinning toward her.
“No,” I say flatly at the same time.
“No one would care. I’m just asking.” She pushes more.
“Strictly professional.” Not even I believe the lie I’m telling.
We’re not very convincing, apparently. Eve leans back against the counter, smirking like the devil herself. She lifts her mug, eyebrow cocked, sipping slow while some plan clearly takes root in that wicked mind of hers.
“Well, too bad,” Eve chirps, not even pretending to be fazed. “But nothing we can’t fix. And I know just the thing…”
She pulls a tablet from her bag, fingers flying across the screen until she spins it around.
Barrett Hall. The pro football player they talked about that first day they sifted through prospects.
“Team calls him Bear,” she says, smug. “Led them to the Super Bowl last year. They swept it because of him.”
I don’t need to read more. I already hate the bastard.
He’s about my height, about my build. Even the same brown hair. Except he’s a prick—I can tell just by the smirk in his profile photo. A playboy because pussy falls into his lap, not because he knows what to do with it. He wouldn’t give a shit about Seraphina. She’d be another trophy on his shelf, right next to that goddamn Super Bowl ring.
“Surely football dick will still be around in a few weeks when this stalker settles down,” I mutter.
“Weeks?” Seraphina’s voice cuts sharp.
Eve grins. “He’s free tonight.”
“No.” My answer is instant.
“Set it up,” Sera tells her.
“This is fucking stupid, and you know it,” I snap.
