Page 13 of Bargaining

Her brow drew downward into a frown. She stared at me like I was a door-to-door salesman she was humoring but wouldn’t consider buying from in a million years. “Not now. I’m not in the mood for bullshit.”

Then she shut the door in my face.

I had to knock three times before Charlotte returned to open the door.

“What is it?” Her tone rang with weary impatience.

I peered past her into the dark house. “I was hoping you’d invite me in.”

“Why? Are you a vampire? Do you need an explicit invitation before you cross a threshold?” She looked me up and down and her lips curled slightly. “You’d make a good vampire, actually.”

“It must be that air of mystery I’ve spent years cultivating.”

She raised a sarcastic brow. “I meant the fact you disappear without a trace more than a decade ago and then pop up again looking like you haven’t aged a day.”

She thought I hadn’t aged? Her delivery hadn’t been complimentary. In fact, it had been downright sneering, but I’d still take it. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

She rolled her eyes as though she could never imagine a word of importance ever emerging from my lips and drifted back into the house.Fine.That was invitation enough for a human. I followed her inside and sat next to her on the sofa. We’d both instinctively avoided the armchair. Roy had always sat there next to the bookcase. It looked empty and forlorn without him.

The Ackroyd house had been a second home to me once. I’d been here most nights after school, revising my Latin verb conjugations. Latin had been a nightmare. I’d only been here to catch aglimpse of Charlotte, hoping she’d invite me to watch some trashy show with her or playMario Kart. It had been the best kind of escape from the grim dorms at boarding school.

Charlotte was eyeing me with half suspicion, half disdain. I’d often imagined what I’d say if I ever saw her again. It had never sounded right.

She glanced impatiently at the watch on her wrist. “Do you want a cup of tea or do you only drink directly from the vein?”

I leaned back in the chair. “What do you think about my proposal?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Honestly, I was trying to be polite and ignore it in case you were having some kind of seizure.”

“I meant it. I want you to be my wife. We made a pact.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. Charlotte had rendered me speechless twice today with a glance, so it was only fair I returned the favor.

Confusion shadowed her features. “It’s been a really long day. I’m not sure what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m starting to wonder if you’re out of your mind—”

“It’s not a game. I want to alter people’s perceptions of me.”

“Because everyone thinks you’re an arsehole?”

My jaw ticked. “Right.”

“I fail to see what I have to do with it.”

I’d missed her accent. That soft Yorkshire brogue was so soothing. Charlotte pronounced her words with atthat was so subtle it was barely there. The shareholders were going to love it. No one could fail to be charmed by this woman.

“You’re the ideal candidate. I came home for a funeral and reconnected with an old flame. We remembered the pact we’d made. I realized I couldn’t live without you, and I whisked you back to London. It’s a romantic story, don’t you think?”

She blinked. “We haven’t seen each other for twelve years. You don’t love me.”

“Love is beside the point. I’m talking about a business arrangement.”

“So you want me to be what? A pretend wife to convince people you’re not an arsehole?”

“That’s the gist.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like the kind of thing an arsehole would suggest. Wouldn’t it just be easier to edit your Wikipedia page?”

“This is bigger than Wikipedia. People also think I’m an arsehole IRL.”