Page 44 of The Bargain

“I didn’t know Julian wasn’t pleasing you from looking at him.” I tilt my head. “I knew from the way you looked at him.”

“You think I look at you any differently?”

“No.” I laugh, soft as a caress. “You look at me like I’m scum.” I’m so close my breath flutters the golden strands of hair that have fallen across her face. “You kissed me like I was scum.”

She falters, catching her bottom lip with her teeth.

“I kissed you like I was trying to convince my friends we’re together.”

I meet her gaze directly, openly, despite the danger, like staring right into an eclipse.

“Do you still want to?” I ask her.

For a moment, she doesn’t say anything at all.

“I don’t want to blur the lines,” she says finally, so low I barely hear her.

My breath catches in my throat; I don’t know whether to laugh or weep.

“Oh, I think the lines are blurred, love. Whether you like it or not.”

16

Truly Corrupted

Desdemona

Have you ever been in love?

It was the first question that sprang to my mind when Elias started asking questions. It was the question I wanted to ask, instead of his favourite colour—which I don’t believe for one second is black. It was the question burning my tongue when I asked him about Elodie.

And now, it’s the question that dangles on my lips by the thinnest thread.

And since I can’t let it snap free, I do the next worst thing.

I kiss Elias Lennox.

Rule two is well and truly broken, but what does it matter? The lines are already blurred, he said so himself. They’ve never felt more blurred than leaning down to kiss Elias, and feeling his mouth parting sweetly beneath mine. This kiss is nothing like the kiss in the Cyprian—it’s slow, tentative, almost innocent. And when I pull away, I realise Elias’s hand is lightly resting on my knee, thumb pressing against the bone.

“You wanna stop?” he murmurs.

But his eyes and his mouth and his touch give a different intonation to the question, like he’s really saying, I dare you to stop.

“No.”

He laughs quietly, almost wistfully. His fingers move up my thighs, and there’s something otherworldly about the moment: his face sunk in shadows, his eyes gleaming darkly.

“A girl as beautiful as you,” Elias murmurs, and his voice feels disconnected from his body, surrounding me like the smoky ribbon of a magic spell, “deserves to feel good.”

Not love, though. Nobody deserves that, according to him.

I swallow thickly, face burning, my heartbeat an erratic stammer. When his fingers reach the top of my thighs, I’m forced to lean back, hands braced behind me on the desk. My hips shift against the firm wood, my thighs splaying wider before I realise I’m doing it.

It’s too late to pull away now. I’m stuck firmly in Elias’s grip—maybe I’ve been stuck in his grip from the moment I turned up at his bedroom door and crossed that threshold. That night, I signed my name in blood and a part of myself now belongs irrevocably to him.

“Lift your hips for me, love,” Elias’s voice dips lushly into my skin. I obey him without thinking, and let him roll down my underwear, pull it free from my hips, down my legs.

I should stop him⁠—