I look at him with a glint in my eye, my mind flickering at the thought of a challenging hunt.
A light chuckle escapes my lips.
"Magnus, that is the wrong question," I say as I lean onto the table.
"You should ask me if I'm ready for this ceasefire," I add, leaning further towards him and crowding his space.
Magnus, visibly taken aback, responds, "So, no more theatrics?
Okay, I can work with that.
After all, why waste fine silk to shroud a corpse?"
Seeing Magnus lean back, I grab him by his tie and say, "Don't you ever compare me to a corpse, you vile butcher.
Your familiarity with the dead and decaying does not give you the authority to liken someone breathing to your prey."
"Easy with the hands, Nadia.
You're exciting me with your enthusiasm.
I'm sure you do not want me showing you my talents, now do you, Nadia?" Magnus says as he lightly rubs his hand against mine.
"Ew," I responded with disgust, pulling my hands back.
The silence that follows is heavy—thick enough to be cut with one of his butcher knives.
I enjoy the way the air seems to vibrate with his suppressed energy.
For a man who is used to being the hunter, being treated like a common nuisance is clearly a new experience.
I lean back, feeling the expensive leather of the chair against my spine, savoring the twitch in his jaw.
This is the thrill I have been craving.
"Fine.
So, as I see we have mutually agreed to this transaction, shall we finally draw up the contract of convenience?" I add.
"Finally off to a good start.
So, what are your terms?" Magnus asks as he signals for his secretary outside to come in.
"First of all, we'll be married in name only—none of that 'together in sickness or death' nonsense.
If I deem you unworthy of this merger, I am dropping you from this case," I say, glaring into his soul.
"Sure.
The road goes both ways, though.
What else?"
"We'll be monitoring each other's actions to better fulfill this marriage, but I do not want unwarranted attention on my private life."
"There's nothing personal or private in a marriage, Nadia.
Everything will be monitored.
I cannot accept this condition, but in return, your people will be monitoring my private life, too," Magnus says with a triumphant smirk on his face.
It's an unfair rebuttal because there's no way the Paverns could defeat the Rawlins in an information war.
Disgruntled, I reply, "Additionally, I want a Rawlins black card, and in the event the contract falls through, all assets will be liquidated."
"So, a blank check, huh?
You're as expensive as you are prickly, Nadia," Magnus hisses.
"Why, of course.
If I'm going down, Magnus...
if I'm going down, you can bet I'm taking a chunk of your empire with me," I snap back.
"Anything else, Ms. Prickly?" Magnus asks teasingly.
I retort, "Finally, all information between the Paverns and the Rawlins must go through me.
You don't speak to my father, and you certainly don't speak to the twins.
I am your sole point of contact.
Cross that line, and the ceasefire ends.
Is that clear, Magnus Rawlins?"
Magnus swallows whatever words come to his lips and studies me from head to toe, trying to analyze how serious I am about this specific condition.
But little does he know, I've been grilled by both sides all my life.
I have no 'tell.'
"Don't you think you're pushing a bit too far, Nadia Pavern?" Magnus growls.
Seeing him hesitate to comply only psychs me up.
Oh, how I would love to make him kneel.
A vicious smile spreads across my face, and I say, "Magnus, as I've clarified before: this is no marriage.
This is a transaction between our families, and we are the liaisons, so take it as you may.
This is the only deal I am offering you."
"My secretary is taking notes, Nadia.
Whatever your demands are will be fulfilled.
Now that you've had your fun, shall we pass the baton?" Magnus barks.
I check my watch, purposely annoying him.
I feel his gaze—heavy and expectant—waiting for me to acknowledge the gravity of his words.
Instead, I make a show of rotating my wrist, the diamonds on my watch catching the light as I stare pointedly at the dial.
I let a small, weary sigh escape my lips—the kind of sound one makes when stuck in a slow-moving grocery store checkout line.
"Can't you send that to me as a draft?" I stand up, smoothing my skirt.
"I'm too busy at the moment for your shenanigans, anyway.
Also, I have a movie to catch, and I would hate to miss the trailers."
I see Magnus bewildered by my actions.
How fun.
His mouth falls open; his jaw might as well have hit the ground.
Magnus is a man whose time is billed by the second, a man who expects the world to stop turning when he speaks.
By treating his grand rebuttal as a scheduling inconvenience, I am doing more than just being rude—I am insulting his very existence.
I walk up to him, my left hand gently caressing his left shoulder.
I lean in, my lips just a breath away from his ear, and whisper, "It'll be fun meeting you next time, Magnus.
Try not to miss me too much."
His neck stiffens.
I pluck a piece of lint off his shoulder and walk away.
Magnus still can't get a word out of his mouth.
As I walk further away from him, I call back, "Send it to my assistant—or don't.
I'll read it if I'm bored."
Additionally, I wave my hand high and walk out of the room, my heels making a sharp click-clack sound. I
wear the biggest grin, having secured victory in this first round as fiancés.