006 Your Are My Best Option

“I can sweeten the deal,” Catherine strokes her hair to the back of her ear, locking the fear of dealing with a devil deep into her heart, “you take care of my mom’s bill, and I will be at your call, for as long as you want.”

“Sweeten the deal...” The man tastes her words slowly on his tongue,“So, to you, being a call girl is better than taking the title of Mrs. Moore?”

Coldness shades his voice at the insulting.

“Better, for YOU,” Catherine’s eyes sparkle with mischieving, “you get all the fun and none of the responsibility. Isn’t that sweeter?”

“Sex is ALL the fun in a marriage?” Damian pulls the girl’s face close to his in a rather rough move.

He is too good a predator to miss the well-hidden fear in her watery eyes. But then, restiveness covers the fear altogether--

“Why? Is Mr. Moore’s love also on the table?”

The man narrows his eyes dangerously. The grin on his face widens, but a shade of evilness infests.

“Not too many dares to be this bold in front of me. So I guess conversations like this are also part of the fun?”

Catherine can’t answer. Her whole body locks up stiff when the man reaches under her towel. The itchy graze inside of her thigh slid up dangerously high, yet slow enough to not trigger her body’s defense system.

Talking is easy. Action is not.

Catherine snaps out of the shock and dodges, and the big hand grabs her thigh and pulls her forward.

“Wait!” Catherine blurts, all the fear and nervousness and hesitation pouring out with this one word.

No more moves from the man. She is pressed in his arms. Between them is a negative distance.

The man lets out a low chuckle, amusement hangs on his curved lips as the embarrasment of the girl lands in his eyes.

“...I’m waiting.”

The taunt in Damian’s voice drives Catherine to take back control of her stiff body. She pushes his hand and he backs out, complying with her force.

She can put on a calm face, but not calm her throbbing heart.

“The negotiation is not done yet,” Catherine knows how awkward her excuse is. Still, better than losing altogether.

“I thought we already got a deal?” Damian cocks his eyebrows. His tone is joking, but his eyes are cold with cruelty. He throws Catherine a mocking nod, looking down at her from those deep, indifferent eyes as he repeats, “I am waiting.”

Catherine stares at him in shock. Does he mean what she thinks he means?

She thought he was different. She should have known. The heart of a man like him can only be made only of stone.

“Strip,” The man curves his lips, “don’t tell me you don’t know how to deliver what you sold.”

Catherine’s face burning red, at the humiliation.

Forcing her hand to move, she unfolds the towel as her brain tries to disobey. She doesn’t want to. In her mind, she only needs to bear through the deal and never see him again. Not like this.

Pure humiliation.

She grips the towel hard by a corner, forcing her body to remain exposed to the man. Every bit of light casting on her is like hot iron, burning deep into her skin.

Tears twirl in the girl’s eyes, but she puts on a shade of obstinate anger to hide it. Only, a good predator sees through that easily.

Damian curves his lips cruelly, commanding lazily: “Good. Now touch yourself.”

In his eyes, there is no lust. Only icy coldness mock.

Anger rushes to her head, and Catherine throws the towel at his face. The man catches the towel with a cold sneer, striding toward Catherine dangerously. Catherine only has enough time to steal his suit before he catches her chin with a single hand.

“Don’t make an offer of what you can’t deliver,” The man says with his icon smile, taunting in his wicked eyes, “... little girl.”

“You can’t deliver your own offer either!” The girl is shivering, but she squeezes her words out with a fierce look like some rebellious little animal.

He offers a marriage on paper, not his hand. She is Catherine Quinn, queen of the city. She doesn’t have to bury herself in the tomb of a loveless marriage for just one million.

Not even for him.

With almost gentle moves, Damian wraps the towel around the girl’s shaking body carefully, as if taking care of a valuable treasure.

When meeting the wronged glare from the beauty, Damian lets out a resigned laugh: “I thought the rumor marks me as the most wanted bachelor in the city. Is marrying me really that horrible? Enough for you to force yourself this far?”

“You can have any women you want in the city lining up for a wedding with you,” Catherine hugs the towel tightly into herself, finally feeling a bit safe, “I’m not your best option.”

“You are the prettiest,” The man shrugs with an indifferent smile, generous with compliments, “The smartest, sexiest, with the most style.”

“...but you are not my best option either.” The girl challenges harmlessly.