Buy My Soul (Sixty Days 2)

Didn’t care to wade through his reams of asshole threats and form a counter argument.

Instead I stared up at the bedroom window, hoping it was ajar but finding it closed tight. I wondered if she was up there, staring out at me as I was staring up at her. I wondered like a fool if there was even a hint of anything real beneath the bluster of a girl going mad in my grip.

She may have the same insane interpretation of want in my presence that the other girls developed in due course, but there was more to this one. So much fucking more.

Her simple honesty. Her simple optimism. Her humility.

The way she saw so deep into someone else’s soul without judgement. The way she saw so fucking deep into mine — what precious little was left of it below the debris.

I wondered if she’d see so deep into Jake Wharton’s good-boy soul. If she’d find enough solace in his white knight rescue efforts that she’d want to bury herself in a whole new world of love.

At least she’d survive a clash of idyllic bullshit with that one.

And that’s when I knew it, for real and definite.

I knew whatever affection I had for the beautiful girl upstairs and her sweet little heart was real enough that I’d have to sacrifice my own sorry needs for the sake of hers.

I also knew that if I could pay Annabel Fisher the full whack of her contract while setting her free with time to go, I could sure as hell bring myself to do it for the girl fast becoming a twinkle of light in my very dark fucking sky.

I would find a way. I’d find a way and soon. Real fucking soon.

My throat was dry as parchment before I’d finished my cigarette and sparked up another. My conviction in that cold clear moment was everything. Stronger than anything.

I couldn’t hold back the smirk as I realised to myself for the first time in almost two decades that I was putting something in this world above money.

The thing that finally meant more than money was the thing promising to earn me more money than I’d ever been graced with.

Ironic.

How fucking ironic.

I knew she was staring out at me from that upstairs window, even though I couldn’t see her. I smirked up at the pane with the rain pouring down hard on a miserable winter’s afternoon and I didn’t need to catch sight of her, I just knew it.

I also knew I had a marathon of spits and slaloms to make it through before I could deliver her back to her freedom unscathed.

Could I do it?

I’d have to.

I’d never been a man to shy away from a challenge. I’d certainly not shy away from this one, not even if it involved going head to head with the prick of a business partner who’d almost certainly try to wipe me out for good.

It was coming. It had been coming for years. Miss Emmerson and her elfin brilliance may have been purely the impetus needed to draw my line in the sand and get my spear at the ready for combat.

I was crystal clear on my decision when my solitude of a rainy-day smoke reached its end.

Eric had obviously been on the pier beers when he stumbled out onto the back porch. His grin was wide as he piled on out to me with the promise of a decent hearty lunch for me on the kitchen table.

He’d never have suspected in a million years that I’d have rustled up my own to share with the creature upstairs.

“Did you click accept on the bids?” he asked as I joined him on the steps. “It’s gonna be a good show tonight, right? They’ll be slavering like crazy if they know their time is coming.”

I couldn’t hold back the smile as I slapped him hard between his shoulder blades. This time it wasn’t fake. Wasn’t bluster.

“It’s gonna be a really good fucking show tonight,” I told him, and I wasn’t lying.

But this time it wasn’t for the cunts slavering like crazy at their webcam screens. It wasn’t for the pricks straining to buzz through bids with their dollops of cold, hard cash up for grabs for the privilege.

This time it was all for me.

I told my grinning brother I wasn’t hungry and took my seat at my office chair with him at his own nearby, smirking like I was my regular self with my regular business workload.

I clicked accept on those bids and fired off the scheduling forms like I didn’t give a shit about the sweetheart upstairs. I conducted my business like it was a day like any other one of sixty and I didn’t have a spat of epic Henry Drake proportions to deal with when this one sorry day was through.