Page 80 of Deal With The Devil


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Still, as I look to my right, there is a staircase made of that same wood, and there are several framed pictures on the wall of women and couples from older, possibly happier times.

An unknown gentleman comes up to me, his hair white, his suit dark, and his expression haughty. He carries a white linen towel over his arm as though he were about to serve me a meal. He casts his gaze over me and sniffs.

"Welcome to the Cliffs," he says. His voice is nasally, his words meaningless to me.

"Thank you." I say.

"Please, come this way."

I follow him through the hallway and into a wood-paneled room. Though large, the room seems vaguely claustrophobic, and I pinpoint the fact that there are no windows in here. There is, however, a fireplace with a crackling, snapping fire.

All around it are uncomfortable looking, overstuffed leather couches. There isn’t so much as a table or a freestanding light fixture in here. The room is lit by sconces, which are doing a poor job of illuminating it.

Dare is already sprawled out on one of the couches, his coat messily cast aside. He looks at the butler and waves a hand, dismissing him. "We’re fine. Leave us."

I stand in the doorway, shivering and looking around. The butler bows his head, and I move aside to let him pass.

Dare looks at me, the firelight playing tricks on his face. I swear I see a hint of hunger in those blue-green eyes of his. But it's gone in the blink of an eye, just as quickly as I saw it.

"For fucks sake," Dare announces. "Come in, sit down."

My teeth start to chatter. The fire may be nice to look at, but whoever designed the chimneys did a poor job at making sure that the fire would actually warm the occupants of the room.

I walk in and take a seat, pulling my coat close to my body. Dare looks at me for a moment and then stands up, going over to a pile of blankets on the end of the couches. He carries them back, unfolding them before slinging each layer on top of me.

"How did you grow up on the coast just like I did, and yet you have no innate weatherproofing?"

My teeth chatter. "I don’t know," I manage.

He goes over to the door of the room and shuts it, then turns back and regards me.

"I’m going to need you to agree to a few things. And not just agree; I’m going to need you to sign a contract saying that you will do as I please."

I pull the blankets closer to me. They have a faint smell of must, like they have been lying on the couch for several years. Still, it’s better than nothing.

Between my clenched teeth, I say, “Like what?"

He gives me a wicked look and starts to pace the room, like a tiger trapped in a cage. "I’m so glad you asked. The first point is that we will have an ironclad prenup. Essentially, it will be a guarantee for me that you can never leave without facing complete financial ruin."

"That doesn’t seem fair." I spit out.

"It’s not. It’s not intended to be fair. It’s intended to have dire consequences if you break the prenup."

Huddling under the blankets, I can’t really think of how to come back to that. What do you say to a man as deranged as Dare?

"Well? What are the other things? I’m sure they’re just as ridiculous."

Dare ticks off items on his fingers like he is making a grocery list or something. “For one thing, you’ll have to try to forget all the standards that you have tried to live up to. Instead, you’ll aim to meet my impossibly high standards. You’ll have to fake it until you make it for at least a little while. But I have no doubt that you’ll get there in the end."

I squint at him, licking my teeth. "Great. That sounds totally achievable and not at all intimidating."

He cocks his head and paces around the room, wrapped up in listing items and not really paying full attention to me.

"You also need to know that by marrying me, your child becomes mine. I am his father from that point on. No matter what, hell or high water."

Surprisingly, I don’t have anything to add. That one actually seems rather sweet, in a fucked-up way.

“My fourth point is that you must keep the secret of the child’s parentage and of our fake marriage safe from anyone ever knowing the truth. That means you can’t tell your aunt, your friends, your doctor, or anyone else. If you see a therapist, I fully expect that you will lie about this one aspect of your life. No one can ever know. "

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