Damn you, let me go.”
For a moment, her words didn’t penetrate. He was lost in the taste of Maria, the feel of her soft body against his. But her hands became small fists, hammering at his shoulders. The message was clear. A moment’s tease, just enough to drive him half out of his mind…
It wasn’t going to work.
He opened his eyes and let go of her.
“Pack your things.”
His voice was low and rough, his muscles taut with anger and frustration. She had a way of getting to him and he didn’t like it. It was not something he was accustomed to.
“That’s it?” Her voice shook with indignation. “You walk in here, announce that I’m going to—to be your sex slave—”
“My mistress,” he said, mentally cursing himself. How had she reduced him to this?
“You think that makes it better? You cannot walk in here, manhandle me and expect—expect—”
“Is that what you call it when you turn soft and hot in a man’s arms and all but beg him to take you?”
Her face colored. “Get out!”
“Try singing a different tune, agapimeni. The one about being a shocked virgin is getting tiresome.”
“Is there something about ‘get out’ you don’t understand?”
“And what of the contract you just signed, Maria? Shall I take that to court and have a judge deal with it?”
“Don’t threaten me!”
“It’s not a threat, it’s a warning. You’ve committed to creating the queen’s birthday gift, to be completed by twenty-eight February and subject to my approval.”
“Your approval?”
“Indeed,” he said coldly. “Perhaps you should have read the contract more thoroughly.”
Maria wanted to laugh. Or cry. Either seemed appropriate. A minute ago, Alex had been kissing her passionately. Now, he was talking to her as if he were a prosecutor and she a balky witness.
Did he think he could use sex to control her? Or maybe he thought he could bully her. Big mistake! She’d grown up on the streets of the Bronx. What was royal arrogance compared to Bronx attitude?
“Contracts,” she said, just as coldly, “are made to be broken.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Did you lift that line from some trendy legal show?”
She flushed. Close enough. She’d taken it from an article about how a hotshot movie star had gotten away with walking out on a film.
“And you’re right,” he said, taking the contract from his pocket, flipping to a page and holding it out. “Some are. This one is not. Take a look at paragraph three.”
Why did doing as he’d suggested smack of defeat? Was it his smug tone, or was it the instinctive knowledge that what she’d find in that paragraph would not be good? She snatched the contract from his hand, read the pertinent sentences… and felt a shock of disbelief flash through every nerve in her body.
Failure of the party of the first part to complete the agreed-upon commission and/or to fulfill the additional duties required of her in their entirety …
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“Ah,” he said, his voice a low purr, “I can see that you really didn’t read this before you signed it. A bad decision, I’m afraid.”
“That’s insane! You cannot contract for—for a mistress …”
“Keep reading,” he said softly.
Did she have a choice? Her gaze dropped to the contract.
Such failure shall result in forfeiture of all goods and services already provided and repayment for same.
“What goods and services?” She looked up and flashed a triumphant smile. “You haven’t provided any.”
“Have you forgotten you’re flying to Aristo with me? Did you think I wouldn’t provide you with a workshop and tools?” He jerked his chin toward the contract. “There’s more.”
Finally, in the event of forfeiture, an additional penalty to be paid by Maria Santos in the amount of …
The typed-in number had so many zeroes it made her laugh. Alex’s eyes narrowed.
“I assure you, this is not meant for your amusement.”
No. Of course not, but what else could she do when the penalty for walking away was easily ten times the value of everything she owned?
“You must know I can’t afford anything even close to that!”
He shrugged. “I know only what is in the agreement you just signed.”
He sounded as removed as if they were discussing when the snow might stop. It not only killed her hysterical laughter, it killed any hope she’d had that this was a joke.
“But—but I’d lose everything. This loft. My clients. The people I deal with would suffer, the ones who subcontract to me. And Joaquin, who’s been with me from the start—”
“Your lover’s welfare is not my concern.”
“Joaquin is not my lover.” Maria flung the contract at his feet. “He works for me.”
He bent and picked it up, smoothing the pages, his expression blank.
“It doesn’t matter one way or the other. My only concern is this contract. Are you going to abide by it or not?
She stared at him, hating him, hating herself even more. How could she have slept with him that night? Better still, how could she have returned his kisses just now? Was she truly, pathetically her mother’s daughter?
She wanted to curse him. To pummel those broad shoulders with her fists, but what would that change? Nothing, she thought bitterly, nothing at all.
“This is usury!”
He grinned. Such a ruggedly beautiful face, she thought wildly, made even sexier by that quick devil’s smile.
“An impressive legal term,” he said. “But incorrect. The penalty to which you’ve agreed has nothing to do with a loan.”
“Damn it,” she exploded, “do not play word games with me! I know what usury means. And I know what this contract is.
Unconscionable. Immoral. Cruel and mean-spirited and—”
“And enforceable.”
“You cannot coerce a woman into—what was your phrase? Into warming your bed!”
Suddenly,
