Chapter 8

Joshua's question hung in the air between them, sharp and heavy. "What are you so afraid of?"

Avery forced herself to meet his gaze, to inject a believable dose of scorn into her voice. "What am I afraid of? I'm afraid of whatever insane game you rich people are playing. I'm clearly out of my league."

It was the perfect excuse. Vague enough, plausible enough.

"The way your brother looked at me... it was like he wanted to kill me," she added, letting a shiver run through her for effect. It wasn't hard to fake. "I signed up to make some money, not to get myself murdered."

Joshua's expression softened almost imperceptibly. He had seen his brother's face. Her fear was, for once, logical.

But he still couldn't let her go.

"This game, as you call it, ends when I say it ends." He released her arm but moved to block the door, a human wall between her and freedom.

"I'll pay the penalty for breach of contract," Avery insisted, her voice rising. "Double, if you want."

He actually laughed at that, a short, contemptuous sound. "Penalty? You think I care about your money?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I need you, Ms. Hopkins. You are now my fiancée. And you will play your part."

"I refuse," she bit out.

His eyes went cold. "You don't have the right to refuse."

He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a checkbook and a sleek Montblanc pen.

With a few quick, angry strokes, he wrote, then tore the check from the book with a sharp rip. He held it out to her.

"What's this?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

"A bonus," Joshua said. "Five hundred thousand dollars. It's yours when you see this through to the end."

Avery's breath caught. Her gaze dropped to the number written on the check. $500,000.

The number echoed in her mind. It was a lifeline. It was the key that could unlock every cage she was in. It was a solution to problems he could never imagine.

On one side of the scale was Brodie, a known and terrifying danger. On the other was half a million dollars. Freedom.

Joshua saw the flicker in her eyes. The hesitation. The internal war.

He had found her price.

He pressed the check into her hand. Her fingers were ice-cold against his.

"Take it," he commanded. "And do your job."

The flimsy piece of paper felt like a lead weight in her palm. It was the price of her safety, her sanity.

She looked from the check up to his cold, determined face.

She was trapped.

"Fine," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll stay."

A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. He had won. He had her.

But the memory of her kiss, the violation of his rules, still stung. The smile vanished from his face, replaced by the familiar icy mask.

"But you will remember the rules," he said, his voice sharp. "You do not touch me. Not a single finger. Not without my permission."

He didn't wait for a reply. He turned on his heel and walked toward the living room, leaving her standing alone in the grand foyer, clutching her golden shackles.