When he stepped into the flickering candlelight, she gasped in recognition. Rich chestnut hair, sharp cheekbones, and perfect lips. The hot bloke from the club. What the hell is he doing here?
Cold fear tightened her chest. Ursula tightened her fingers around the knife’s hilt. “You followed me.” A tendril of horror curled around her heart. “Did you just watch me take off my shirt?”
“I averted my eyes. I’m not here to disturb you. I’m just here for your signature.” He raised his arms over his head, holding on to the door frame. Candlelight flickered over his golden skin, dancing in his green eyes. Despite his beauty, there was something predatory in the way he stared at her, like he was about to devour her.
“Signature? What are you on about?” Any fast movements, and she’d fling the knife at him. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the police.” She couldn’t call the police, since she’d just chucked her phone across the room, but he didn’t need to know that.
His gaze slid over her, as if he were memorizing her. “I won’t linger any longer than you want. I just need you to sign the contract. You must have been expecting me.”
“What contract?” Slowly, she lifted the knife in front of her. Only instead of looking at the tip of a blade, she was staring at the soft silicone paddle of a spatula. Bloody hell.
He smiled, and white teeth gleamed in the candlelight. “If you want to make me pancakes first, I won’t object.”
“I don’t have the ingredients,” she said lamely.
Where are the kitchen knives? They must be dirty. If she could inch over to the sink, she could get a proper blade, one with an edge that could slash his throat.
“Look, I can see you’re having a bad night. And I’d truly love to help you.” Dropping his arms from the doorframe, he widened his eyes, all sincerity. “But you committed yourself years ago, and it’s your eighteenth birthday. All you need to do is sign the contract, and I’ll be on my way.”
There it was again. How did he know it was her birthday? She didn’t know him. Hell, she didn’t know anyone remotely like him. There was a strange edge to his plummy voice, one that reeked of old money and private clubs with three-hundred-year-old mahogany bars. Not exactly Ursula’s sort of crowd.
She eyed the stove to her right. A dirty cast-iron pan rested on the nearest burner. Perfect for frying sausages, or for smashing skulls, depending on the occasion.
“Ursula. You don’t need to be scared,” he soothed, his emerald eyes drinking her in. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
If he weren’t such an obvious nutter, the guy would be seriously seductive. She laid the spatula down on the countertop with feigned casualness. “Look, I’ve had an awful day. I’m tired, and I want to finish my bread and go out for one little drink with my flatmate, who will be here any minute.” She paused. “And she’s huge, by the way, and lethal. I’m sure you’ve got somewhere better to be. I’m advising you to leave me alone. I can be a little… unpredictable when I’m irritated, and I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Unpredictable? Sounds exciting. But I’m afraid I cannot leave until I get your signature. For Emerazel. Then I’ll leave. Unless you want me to stay to attend to your other needs, of course.”
“I have no idea who Emerazel is. But if you’re here because you think I owe you something for helping me out at the club, that’s not going to happen. I don’t have anything. I can’t afford electricity. I can’t afford socks. My boyfriend just dumped me last week, and then fired me. So on top of all the other shit, I’m unemployed. I’m eating sodding bread and butter for dinner on my eighteenth birthday. So if you’re planning on robbing me, have a wonderful time. Take the spatula. Take my threadbare socks. Take the moldy shower curtain. Whatever you desire.” She could feel her cheeks burning as anger flooded her. “Then fuck right off.”
“I’m not here about the club, and I’m not here to rob you.”
“So what are you? Some sort of pervert?” Her body grew hot, her pulse quickening. Pure strength surged through her muscles, and she wanted to break something. If he thought he was going to get his hands on her, she would choke the life out of him.
He opened his palms, eyes widening, all innocence. “Ursula, you’re not listening. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here about that triangular mark you carved somewhere on yourself, the one that gives you the fire. You do understand the bargain you made, don’t you?”
My scar. So he did see me without my shirt on. There was no air left in the room. “You said you looked away.”
“I did. Emerazel sent me, and that’s how I know you have a scar. You owe her your signature. It’s fine. There’s nothing to panic about,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice a dangerous caress. “Everything will be fine, Ursula.”