Page 35 of A Deal with the Devil

“That would weaken the gesture somewhat,” I reply, taking another sip of whatever Hayes got me.

He extends a hand. “I’m Chris.” His handshake is firm—an adult handshake. “And you look so familiar. What have I seen you in?”

I shake my head. “I’m not an actress.”

“Really?” he says, stepping closer. “You just became so much more appealing to me, and you were already appealing.”

Is this how flirting works? I really have no idea, and now it feels like I’m too old to learn. But this is the first attractive, single guy I’ve spoken to in a while. I suppose I should at least try, even if it’s the last thing I feel like doing.

“So you’re an actor?” I ask.

His grin is cocky. “You seriously don’t know who I am?”

I’m about to reply when Hayes suddenly appears at my side with his hand on my elbow, making a polite but clipped excuse to my new friend as he drags me away.

“And here I was worried you wouldn’t have a good time,” he says.

I’m relieved he’s rescued me, but I’m not about to let him know it. “I’d probably be having a better time if you weren’t dragging me away from the first man I’ve spoken to in months.”

“I brought you here to work,” he replies. His voice is clipped, devoid of its normal mischief. “It’s funny how quickly you forget you’re being paid.”

I hold up my phone. “And I’m ready to do so. Or was I supposed to—”

My words fall away entirely, my eyes frozen on the man being whisked past the doorman. My heart flops like a fish out of water, in serious danger of collapse.

Matt is here.

With a date by his side.

It’s hard to imagine a worse scenario than this one. He’s even wealthier and more successful than he was a year ago, whereas most of his dire predictions for me have come true. I’m alone, I haven’t finished the book, I’ve taken a lame Hollywood job to make ends meet. If I pack up and move home, he’ll be four for four.

I can’t stand it.

Sheer panic takes over. I’m trying to think, but I’m a shaky mess, all fluttering hands and weak, skittish pulse. “Shit.”

Hayes raises a brow, glancing from me to Matt. “What?” he asks. “Oh, God. Don’t tell me you have some deep, undying love for Noah Carpenter? I thought you were more interesting than that.”

“No,” I say, biting my lip. He’s moving through the room. He hasn’t seen me yet, but any minute now he will. “No. Can I just—can you just do something for me? Please?”

“Fine, I’ll have sex with you,” he says with a long sigh, “but only the one time, okay? And from behind, so it’s not awkward in the morning.”

He absolutely doesn’t get it. Matt’s going to spy me in a matter of seconds, and when that happens, it will be the most humiliating moment of a life positively strewn with humiliating moments.

“Hayes, this is important.” I clasp my hands together, pleading. “When he gets here, please don’t tell him I work for you, okay?”

Hayes is acting like this is the most amusing situation he’s ever been in, a lazy smile stretched across his face. “What’s in it for me?”

“Jesus Christ, Hayes,” I hiss. “You already have my entire life. What more could you possibly want?”

It’s then that Matt spies me. He looks stricken, as if he’d forgotten I even fucking existed, and the sudden reminder is a shock. And then his face breaks into that smile—the one I used to love. The one that made me feel like I was the most adorable, special thing in the entire world. Now half the planet loves it just as much, and I finally realize it was never really mine at all.

He skirts around a group of men, ditching the actress he brought without a word, and then he’s here, pulling me against him.

I freeze in response. My limbs are stiff, unmoving, unable to behave normally. These are the only arms I had around me from ages fourteen to twenty-four, and being in them again is surreal. I’ve only kissed two other people, and had sex with one other, in my entire life. Standing here is like being reunited with a missing part of myself, one I know is diseased but still feels right.

“God, it’s so good to see you, Tali,” he says, finally pulling away. His hands frame my jaw as he stares at me. It’s too much eye contact. It’s too intense. I feel sweat beading down the center of my chest. “How have you been?”

I’m about to stammer a reply, when Hayes’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me away from Matt. His lips press to my head in a show of casual possession, and Matt has to look up to meet Hayes’s eye, a fact I enjoy way more than I should. Matt always did wish he was taller. “Uh...Matt, this is Hayes Flynn. Hayes, this is Matt. Better known as Noah, I guess.”