Naughty Little Gift -- A Temptation Court Novella (Temptation Court, Book 1) by Angel Payne Read Free Book Online Page A

almost beg Mother to pinch my ear again—or anything else, to ensure this is not a dream. The only thing holding me back: the look on Father’s face. His gape is gone, replaced by a troubled scowl—shot at me then Cassian, in that order.
    My heartbeat stutters all over again. By the powers, what have I done now? More precisely, what kind of concessions has Cassian demanded in return for this astounding new deal? The contract is practically Faustian—except the Devil looks like an angel, moves like a prize fighter, and enthralls like a wizard.
    “All for this sole condition?” Father presses.
    Mother practically leaps forward. “Accept it! Whatever it is, Fortin, say yes!”
    Father looks at her for a long moment. Then once more at me, his gray gaze suddenly hazy—like that of a field mouse in a hawk’s talons.
    “The acceptance is not mine to give.”
    *
    Cassian
    “This is insanity.”
    It’s the eighteenth time she’s blurted it. Yes, I’m counting—wondering if she’ll hit the internal estimation I set during the drive back over here, after having the new contract printed up in one of the palais offices. Somehow, Doyle found a security guard to open one of the rooms for us at four in the morning. Not that I’d ever planned on sleeping, after walking out of here consumed by the proposal now outlined in the pages in her hands.
    Proposal.
    That’s one way of putting it.
    In the last half hour, she’s come up with quite a few more—though insanity is the favorite, as I’d predicted. Doyle—I make a mental note to give him a massive bonus, after the miracles he’s pulled to make this happen in less than six hours—clearly has some more for the list. His stare, filled with have-you-lost-it perplexity, burns from the shadows of the wingback in the corner. I don’t earn myself a reprieve by jerking my head, motioning him out the door— not the one beyond which the Santelles are waiting in suspicious silence. It’s the one opening onto a small patio with the morning sun now glittering in a small fountain flanked by padded chairs.
    Doyle’s eyes narrow tighter.
    I nod toward the patio again.
    With a grunt, he rises. Fortin has all but ordered him to witness every second of my conversation with Mishella, but we’re not going to move past the next “this is insanity” at this rate. The dynamic in the room badly needs to change—and D has to know that too. On paper, the guy is my valet, but that bullshit flies as much as saying the same thing about Kato and the Green Hornet. Doyle and I finish thoughts, sentences, and cheeseburgers for each other. He’s the closest thing I have to a sibling. At least one who’s alive.
    As soon as D steps outside, my theory proves out. A rush of relieved breath leaves Mishella.
    Just as rapidly, she pulls one back in.
    Wheels on me so fast, her loose hair tumbles over her shoulder—
    And her breasts pucker beneath her pink sleep shirt.
    She’s so fucking sexy, I can barely think.
    But I must. Force myself to, with willpower I’m now grateful to have fortified over the years…the only thing riveting me in place as blood rushes to stupid places in my body.
    “This is insanity!”
    So much for theories.
    “You must know that,” she continues, once more pacing the length of the room. “You—you have to know that.”
    I can reply right away—I actually have known that since leaving this mansion the first time—but I don’t. Instead I lean against her father’s desk, bracing hands to the wood at my sides, giving her the full thrust of my gaze, the full recognition of my intent—
    The full truth of my spirit.
    “It feels more crazy to think of leaving without you.”
    It’s a bomb drop even to me, but I don’t try to mitigate the blast. I don’t want to. The shrapnel cuts in, and I let it. I welcome the blood; the sensation that I’m watching my heart fall on the floor. For a second, I simply revel in watching it pump. For so many years, I’ve had my