JENNIE

At the sound of hissing, my eyes flew open to find a furious Mr. Tinkles glaring at me from a corner, canines bared.

Apparently he was not at all pleased that I had spent the night in his personal solar. Too terrified to leave the room—even though I knew that Lisa had long gone—I'd fallen asleep with my back to the wall, chin balanced on my knees. My body ached as I unfurled my limbs, and I had to brace one hand against the wall just to haul myself upright. But once I saw the sunlight streaming through the window, fear instantly overrode any discomfort.

Oh no.

Lisa's warning rang through my mind; ten o'clock. If my powers of deduction accounted for anything, then it was already mid-morning.

"Damn!"

I leapt over Tinkles, who had begun to stalk toward me, claws drawn, and I raced into the hall.

"Morning, Miss!" a servant greeted as I rushed passed. I barely managed to squeak out a halfhearted reply before staggering into my bedroom in search of something 'suitable' to wear.

The clock on the wall gave me less than an hour's time and I had no idea where to begin. I eyed my closet, doubtful I had anything in there that might satisfy Lisa. It was only when I took a step towards it in defeat that I saw them.

Several black garment bags rested on my bed, each bearing a purple emblem reading Mystic. Fingers shaking, I grabbed one at random and gathered enough nerve to undo the zipper.

It was worse than I'd imagined.

While not exactly a leash or gag, the short black dress was just as intimidating. I couldn't shake the paranoid suspicion that Lisa had picked it out only to reinforce that I didn't belong.

Still, I had no choice but to pull the dress on over my head and creep over to the mirror. On me, the posh, sophisticated garment was a shapeless sack. It was as if I was cursed with the ability to ruin the allure of anything fashionable simply by wearing it.

"Suitable, suitable," I muttered under my breath, as if just saying the word might magically transform me into someone who didn't look so damn awkward. I briefly considered the idea of using makeup to salvage some semblance of beauty.

In the end, I settled on dragging a brush through my hair in the hopes that a few neat curls might help distract from my overall appearance. Once finished, I re-entered the hall with only minutes to spare.

I rushed back to the solar for my purse before stumbling down the stairs and out of the door just as a black car sped up the driveway. It came to a stop a few feet away, and I fully expected that stern-faced driver to be the one to climb out and greet me.

A flawless Lisa Manoban did instead.

The woman gleamed in a pair of gray pants and a white shirt crowned by a crisply starched collar. I felt struck dumb watching her, breathless.

At least until she caught sight of me standing on the front step and frowned. "You look even worse in black."

I flinched and self-consciously ran a hand along the silky hem. "It's what you sent for me."

Therefore, my apparent 'unsuitableness' was entirely not my fault.

"I know that. But, damn …" She crossed the main courtyard and cupped my chin in her palm. Those eyes were hidden behind the lenses of sunglasses, thank goodness. But all the same, I had no trouble picturing the glare she wore underneath. "You look like an undead schoolgirl playing dress-up on Halloween."

Considering which one of us was truly 'undead' in this situation, the insult stung twice as much.

"I did what you told me to," I said in my defense. "M-Mam."

We were playing her game again, I remembered, by her rules, and I wasn't inclined to give her the satisfaction of berating me already for not following them. With her eyes hidden, I couldn't tell if my use of the word surprised her or not. She merely held my gaze for a second longer before turning back to the car.

"That you did," she muttered while wrenching open the passenger-side door. "Get in."

I had no choice but to follow and shimmy onto the leather seat. She closed the door behind me and I tried to remember how to breathe while she circled around the car.

In and out, Jennie. Easy does it.

She didn't explain where we were going, and I was much too pathetic to ask. I merely sat there, peeking out the window as we headed into the city. It was much like that impromptu trip to the Cafe Claret; with her, I saw the city differently. Everything didn't seem quite as distant as it had when glimpsed from the tinted windows of my family's car.

Light glinted off the windows of skyscrapers. The crisp lines of buildings and streets were sharper, bolder. The world had color. Clarity. It was a far cry from the gray, lifeless universe I was used to having stare back at me—but I wasn't sure if I liked this new view much, either.

Eventually, the car came to a stop. Glancing out of the window, I expected to find the intimidating front of Anemia or some other club—maybe that mysterious manor? Anything other than a gleaming building complex with a statue of Hippocrates out front and a massive sign reading, Manoban Industries.

I gulped, blinked, rubbed my eyes and looked again.

"You … You own this?"

I wasn't that surprised when Lisa exited the car rather than answer me. In a matter of seconds she was by my side, ushering me out onto the curb.

"You own this?" I repeated, staring up at the gleaming letters that spelled out her name.

The building sat in the center of a massive, sprawling compound, surrounded by a lush garden that reminded me of an oasis smack-dab in the middle of the city.

"'Own' is such a relative term, Jennie," she drawled as we made our way down a paved path and through a pair of sleek glass doors.

But her name was definitely the only one plastered all over the white lobby in gleaming letters. The secretary sitting behind the counter nearly fell out of her chair when she approached.

"Ms. Manoban! Mam—"

"Morning, Becky." She pulled off her sunglasses with one hand and faced her head-on. "Is the boardroom ready?"

"Yes, Mam." Beneath that silver stare Becky blinked repeatedly and seemed to struggle to find more words. "Mr. Haswell is already waiting—"

"Excellent."

Without looking back, Lisa reached for my wrist and pulled me along. I had to jog just to keep pace with her as she crossed the wide lobby and entered an elevator. Once inside, she let me go and pressed the button for the twelfth floor.

"Why are we here?" I asked, though the answer was pretty obvious; the devil had an office in which to conduct her nefarious business.

Go figure.

"To fulfill your bargain," she replied, proving my suspicions to be true. "There is a man who has an asset that I want. You are going to convince him to give it to me."

"Convince?" I squeaked. "M-Me? How?"

She rolled her eyes while folding her sunglasses. "With your charm and wit, of course."

Which gave me nothing to go on at all.

Noticing my frown, she scoffed in exasperation. "Use that brain of yours, Jennie. I shouldn't have to explain everything in black and white."

My throat went dry at a sudden possibility. Would I have to 'persuade' her in the same way that I …

"Don't let your imagination get the best of you, either," Lisa warned just as the elevator doors slid apart, revealing a hallway lined with plush black carpet and gray walls. "If he was that sort of man I would have just borrowed a girl from Somi."

I was unsure whether or not to be insulted. Either way, I hated myself for the pout that pulled on my lower lip. "You are so beneficial to my self-esteem," I grumbled under my breath, eyes on the floor.

It was only when she grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze that I realized she had heard me. Those gray eyes held mine for merely a second, blazing.

"You'll do fine," she said before letting me go.

I gaped at her, speechless. Was that—dare I say it—encouragement?

"Because if you don't," she added as she turned away, "that would be a violation of our agreement."

Before I could respond, she exited the elevator, pulling me after her, and I promptly lost the ability to speak at all.

I had rarely traveled the halls of my family's businesses. "Man's work," Mother would sniff at the suggestion. In her opinion, our time was better spent suffering through dull teas with her equally emotionless, but well-connected, 'friends' while Father was busy trying to turn our millions into billions.

Even after their deaths I could count the number of times I had visited the business headquarters on a single hand—and even they didn't look anything like this.

With steel gray walls and a sleek floor plan, the interior of 'Manoban Industries' was the sort of place that I had no trouble imagining Lisa in; impressive, but with a dark air that instantly put your entire body on guard.

I tried not to gape as she led me into a spacious boardroom where a window displayed a stunning view of the courtyard. A man sat at the head of a table in the center of the room, watching us enter with shrewd eyes.

"Well, Manoban," she grunted as Lisa all but shoved me into the nearest seat before taking the one beside me. "I'm here. What the hell do you want now? Another permit for one of your shady dealings?"

The tone was hostile, but Lisa just smiled, the picture of an unfazed businessman.

"Not today, Eric," she said. "But my friend here would like to negotiate instead."

Suddenly, the attention turned to me, and it took every ounce of pride I had to keep from curling into a ball underneath my chair.

"Her?" The stranger's expression was downright caustic as he glanced me over from head to toe and sneered. "She wants a multi-million-dollar tract of land? For what—to ride ponies? Where the hell did you find her, Manoban? Bible study?"

Unsurprisingly Lisa didn't try to defend me. Instead, she sat there, eyes on the wooden table and I got the sense that she was waiting. For something I was supposed to initiate, apparently. I recalled her words from the other day. I want your endorsement.

"I … I'm twenty-six," I stammered.

"You don't look a day over fifteen," the man replied, taking in my pale skin and lack of makeup. "Where did you grow up? A nunnery?"

"Boarding school," I countered. "Twelve years in England."

That seemed to interest him. He sat straighter. "England? Which school?"

Warily, I rattled off my alma mater and his eyes widened with recognition. "Not just any girl could get into that playpen for high society."

His disgust matched mine perfectly and with a smile I stuck out my hand.

"Jennie Kim, at your service."

"Kim?" He took my hand and gave it a firm shake while Lisa watched without venturing a word. "The Jennie Kim?" I didn't know that I was important enough to have a 'the' before my name, but I nodded all the same. "Your family owns the knife business, correct?"

"Cutlery," I corrected with a small smile.

Considering how sheltered my upbringing had been, it was almost ironic that my family's fortune had been built upon a company that manufactured some of the finest blades and cutlery in the world. The Queen of England no doubt cuts filet mignon with Kim silverware, Mother used to smugly remark.

"Please, you can call me Jennie."

"Haswell," the man blurted in response. "Eric Haswell."

I looked at him with new eyes. Now that he wasn't frowning, he didn't look quite so old—maybe forty—with just a hint of gray mingling with the strands of his dark hair. He had kind blue eyes, and judging from his attire I guessed that he was some sort of businessman, though one who didn't seem to operate in the same 'trade' as Lisa.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Jen," he said in a slightly deeper tone than before. He seemed to be seeing me differently, too—I didn't miss how his eyes darted to my purse and I swore they flashed dollar signs.

"Jennie," I insisted, shifting in my seat.

I wished that Lisa would tell me what the hell she wanted from me. Sitting there, I was clueless, while Eric Haswell eyed me like a shark sensing fresh blood.

"I didn't know that you were interested in the Lakewood property," he said finally. "And if I had, I would have preferred that you meet me alone. How the hell do you know this cad, anyway?" He jerked his head in Lisa's direction.

Oh, her? Well, she just owns my soul.

It wasn't until an elbow rammed into my side that I realized I had said the words out loud.

Oops. Lisa glared, while Haswell just looked confused.

"What?"

"L-Lisa is an old business acquaintance." I was surprised by how easily the lie rolled off my tongue. "When she mentioned the …property, I just had to express my interest. My father taught me the importance of investments, you see."

Thank God that my father had actually instilled within me a sense of navigating business deals; or, as he had called it, "Verbal Poker." As a child, after Mother had drifted off to bed clutching her nightly brandy, I would stay up, tasked with charming his business buddies out of house and home by way of pleasant small talk and shy smiles.

After all, no one suspected the sweet, innocent Kim girl of sneaking a peek at their cards while they weren't looking. Eric Haswell seemed no different, and I tried my hardest to seem as polite and meek as possible.

"Is it still available?" Only God knew what Lisa wanted with a piece of land—construction of her own personal dungeons? But that touch at my side became insistent; go on. "T-To purchase?"

Haswell's eyes narrowed and cut to Lisa. "Where the hell did you find her, Manoban?" He wondered. "Maybe you really do own her 'soul' after all?"

I burst into a loud round of nervous laughter. Ha! Ha! Ha! Really …

Lisa didn't speak and with a sigh Haswell turned back to me.

"You want the land?" he began warily. "What for?"

"I …um … For?" I winced as cool fingers pinched my side. "Personal use!"

Haswell studied my expression with one brow raised. "Personal use?"

I could only nod, hoping he believed me—though I wasn't quite sure why I suddenly cared whether or not I failed, Lisa's threat aside. As far as I was concerned, the woman didn't need anything that might further her devious plans, whatever they may be.

Haswell watched me for the longest time. Then he sighed. "Damn it, Manoban, you win. I have never been able to resist a young woman's charm."

I was still reeling over the fact that someone had called me 'charming'—even indirectly—when the two suddenly reached across me to shake hands, and the conversation turned to talk of 'settlements' and 'deeds' and 'land value.'

What had to be only ten minutes later, they both stood, leaving me to scramble to my feet.

"I'll have the paperwork on your desk by tomorrow morning," Haswell promised, adjusting his tie. "And the next time we meet, please do bring the intriguing Miss Kim."

He took my hand and gallantly pressed his mouth to my skin. His warmth was a shock when compared with Lisa's chill.

"Goodbye, Jennie."

I attempted to choke out a reply only to find myself dragged down the hallway after Lisa before I could. We'd gone only a few feet before she pulled me into another room; an office this time.

"Not bad," she admitted, letting me go. "I've been working on getting that damn land from Haswell for nearly a year now, and you've manage it in a day."

Did I dare assume that awe colored her voice?

"What did you want it for, anyway?" I found myself asking while I rubbed at my chilled wrist.

After all of her mystery and suspense regarding the 'business arrangement' I had to admit that a simple deed purchase did seem rather anticlimactic.

"For a reason that you do not need to concern yourself with."

I tried a different tact. "So, is he one of your contracts?" I nervously scanned the room as I spoke.

All in all, the entire space could be summed up by a few keywords; simple, clean and utilitarian—definitely her. The layout was neatly arranged, with an oak desk in the center and a row of fully lined bookshelves along the back wall. A large window overlooked the gardens down below.

"No. The bastard doesn't know what I am," Lisa said. "And while I would love to have control of his assets, he is not desperate enough to bargain with. For now."

For now.

It all sounded so …calculated. Had she watched me the same way? Waited for that moment when I was apparently 'desperate' enough to take up her bargain?

The thought gave me chills and I staggered over to the window, huddling beneath the warm rays of sunlight streaming in.

"You did well," Lisa said a moment later, and I was stunned by the fact that she seemed so surprised to admit it. You did well. It wasn't a complete loss bringing you along after all. Quick! Look out of that window there and wave hello to the flying pigs.

Considering her mood, I decided to risk asking another question—one I knew she would never normally tolerate.

"What makes you decide to offer someone a contract?"

In other words; me.

Her answer came without hesitation. "They possess something of value, something worth more time."

Fair enough.

"So, what happens if someone wants out before their contract ends?" I turned to face her, watching the sun reflect off her pale skin. "Say they change their mind halfway through?"

"All debt must be repaid." A warning laced her tone: so don't get any ideas.

We stood there for a moment, just staring at each other. Then she sighed and ran a hand through that golden hair. "You've fulfilled part of your bargain," she admitted reluctantly. "Were you anyone else, I might even offer you a reward."

Uh-oh. Something told me that she wasn't the sort to dole out sweets and candy as thanks for being a good girl. Her idea of a 'treat' was probably another's idea of cruel and unusual torture.

Still, curiosity had me in its grasp and I couldn't escape it.

"Like what?" I blinked and suddenly she was in front of me. Every muscle in my body tightened as her icy fingers skimmed my jawline before she cupped my chin entirely in her palm.

"What would you want?" Her tone threw me off. For once, I couldn't sense any irritation or anger. Just …curiosity.

My mouth opened. "I …"

But my mind went blank.

"Hmm. I suppose that's a trick question," she said finally. Her head was tilted to the side, thumb centered on the globe of my chin. "After all, what could the heiress, who's always had everything, possibly want?"

I winced at her insinuation. "I have not always had everything." Though, when I tried to consider what I had ever gone without, I couldn't come up with a single thing. "I've just never wanted anything," I finished weakly.

To my defense, the so-called 'coveting' of luxury items had been deemed 'tacky' by my mother and therefore taboo. A pretty pathetic reason, but if such a thing as 'sheltered heiress syndrome' existed you would find my picture in the dictionary alongside a fitting definition: Always needs someone to tell her what to do, think and/or feel in order to properly function as a human being.

Lisa wasn't satisfied with my answer. "If you could have anything in the world, what would it be? Even for someone like you, there must be one thing."

I was surprised to find that, once again, she sounded genuinely curious. My mind spun as she released me and turned her attention to the window, watching the daylight filter down. But I wasn't fooled—she still wanted an answer.

"Anything?" I wracked my brain for an interesting reply, desperately trying to combat a voice—distinctly my mother's—that shot down every thought.

Diamonds? Gaudy!

New clothes? A waste!

A lion? Tiger? Bear?

Impractical! Useless! Selfish!

"A ring," I settled on finally, surprising myself. "One of those cheap, plastic rings that everyone just throws away because it turns your finger green."

I had never had one, of course, but at school some of the braver girls would sometimes sneak into town and bring back their "treasures" from a few hours spent outside the lap of luxury: cheap jewelry, candy and toys.

"A ring?" Lisa repeated. I jumped as her voice brushed my ear in a burst of cool air. She was closer than I had realized. "Of all the things in the world, you would choose a ring?"

Her tone told me just what she thought of that, but I nodded, unashamed.

"The cheapest, tackiest thing I could find."

"Of all the ... I would have thought that even someone like you might have a more interesting wish."

I turned to face her. "What is that supposed to mean? Mam," I added hastily.

"It means …" She began to advance at a pace that had me instinctively backing up. For every step she took, I scrambled back two. "Jennie Kim, the twenty-six year old virgin—until two days ago—wants nothing more in life than a plastic ring. I must say that I'm rather disappointed."

She took another step. Another. I knew I was trapped even before my hip hit the side of the desk.

"W-What else is there?"

I gulped as hands colder than ice caught me by the waist and lifted me on top of the desk before I could even blink. I tried not to react as her arms trapped me on either side, locking me in place. A shudder rippled down my spine as my eyes seemed to focus on her against my will.

She held my gaze for so long that I felt dizzy. Weightless.

"What else is there?" she repeated under her breath. "I can think of a few things."

My mind ran wild. Vulgar, primal things. Ice-on-the-tongue, breathless and panting things …

I struggled to breathe, hating myself for the weak little flutters that came to life inside my belly—especially when her hand disappeared between us to trail the length of my inner thigh.