Chapter One #5
I suck in an unsteady breath as a part of me recoils.
Because stepping back into Ashon’s electric orbit means steady exposure to the man who short-circuits every sensible thought I’ve ever owned.
The reminder that he’d only needed to walk into a room in his Bel-Air mansion for me to grow breathless and throbbing in private places is a cringe-worthy, pulse-tripping one I don’t want or need.
And yet, if there ever was a sign from the cosmos or the ancestors that I couldn’t…shouldn’t ignore…isn’t it this one, beating an urgent tattoo beneath my ribs?
‘I want three months’ pay up front,’ I blurt before the decision has even hardened in my mind. Then, for the hell of it, I go for broke. ‘I want my reputation restored, publicly. And I want a contract that gives me control over how this ends.’
His mouth curves. Not quite a smile. Something sharper.
Calculating. ‘I knew you’d come to the table eventually.
But you should learn better negotiating tactics.
Definitely better than asking for three months’ pay.
I’ll give you what I offered everyone I auditioned for the role.
Half a million dollars on you signing an agreement.
But I have clauses of my own. Some non-negotiable. ’
The churning intensifies. I swallow, attempt not to show hostility or how boggled I am by the money he’s offering. ‘Which are?’
‘They include, but not limited to, physical contact that is staged well enough to satisfy the world’s worst cynic, who just happens to be my grandfather.
Which means you’ll need to work on that loathsome expression on your face, for starters.
’ His gaze trails over me once more, lingering in places I don’t want it to.
Hating the tiny little fires he leaves behind.
‘A wardrobe upgrade. My lawyer will provide a fuller list by morning.’
I don’t flinch. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll hold my own without holding my nose, Mr Biney. But when this ends,’ I say coolly, ‘you don’t get to touch me. Ever again.’
His eyes flare, blaze with mockery. Then he nods. ‘Agreed.’
But I see the lie behind his eyes. The same one pulsing beneath my skin.
Because the thing between us isn’t dead. It’s just waiting to burn us both alive.
And maybe I’ll let it.
Because Ashon Biney thinks he’s playing me. Thinks I’m some desperate woman too proud to admit she needs him. Or worse, a woman he can order about to suit his needs.
But he doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know why I took that housekeeping job in the first place. Doesn’t know how long I searched for a way into his orbit. Into the records his family buried generations ago.
He doesn’t know about the land.
My land.
The same plot his grandfather snatched up after my father defaulted on a predatory loan and tossed in with his precious enclave. The one that should’ve been part of my inheritance, part of my future. The land my mother begged him not to take when we were drowning in debt.
It isn’t just acreage on a survey map. It’s the mango grove where my cousins and I hunted fireflies, the clay riverbank where my grandmother taught me the rhythm of clothes-washing by hand, the ridge where my father carved our initials into the trunk of an ancient Odum tree and promised every harvest would pay my school fees.
I still smell the cocoa blossoms when I close my eyes.
I still hear my father coughing, begging Nana Biney’s lawyer to spare us.
Ashon doesn’t know that I grew up hearing his family’s name as a curse. That I swore one day I’d get it back. Working in his house was supposed to be my way in. I’d planned to stay quiet, stay useful, keep my head down until I found the documents.
The proof. The leverage.
Instead, I fell into his bed and lost the one thing I couldn’t afford to gamble—his oblivious trust. It all backfired. A flash of a lethal smile and a display of humanity was all it took to shatter my defences. To succumb to dark chemistry and intoxicating sex.
Then, realising my mistake, I ran. And he responded the way powerful men shouldn’t but repeatedly choose to. Ashon Biney erased me.
But now he’s here. With a fake contract. A desperate gambit. A seat beside him at the table.
He thinks he’s dragging me into his game. But what he doesn’t see is that he’s just invited me back into the house.
And this time, I won’t leave empty-handed.
He sears me with one last look before he heads to the door. ‘Things will move quickly. Renée, my assistant will be in touch first thing in the morning, with an itinerary. But I suggest you pack to travel in the next twenty-four hours.’
I trail after him, hating the dominance of his masculine scent in my space. In my shabby sanctuary. Hating that I can’t look away from him for more than one damn second. ‘One last thing.’
He stiffens. Turns. ‘Let me guess—the fee I offered suddenly feels light? You want double? Or triple?’
Typical Biney. I let a slow sneer curl. ‘Hold on to your wallet. But remember, you came to me, which makes us partners, not master and pawn. Keep that in mind before you attempt a trademark bait-and-switch.’
His brow lifts, intrigued, annoyed. ‘As unsavoury as that sounds, what exactly will you do to me?’
I step closer, voice sweet as syrup, sharp as glass. ‘I’ll remind you why you should’ve stayed in your side of town, Mr Biney.’