Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Kierse tried to drink the tea as daintily as the cup and saucer suggested. She glanced at the tray to take a scone but saw that there were only biscuits. After slathering one with cream and strawberry jam, she bit into the biscuit. Then hastily devoured two of them. This food was . . . incredible. As if extra flavor was baked into every portion.
“I’m glad that you appear to enjoy my refreshments,” Graves said from the doorway.
Kierse jostled some tea onto the saucer, setting it down as she came swiftly to her feet at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t heard him approach.
But he held his gloved hand out. “Please, stay seated.” Graves leaned against the doorframe.
When she did no such thing, he stepped into the room and drew the door closed behind him. He took the seat across from her, and then finally she eased back down.
“You know, once it was commonplace to drink from the saucer. It’s gauche now, of course.”
A new thought bubbled to the surface. She shot him a shrewd look. “Is it magicked?”
His lip quirked up on one side. “The food? No. Isolde is just the best cook I’ve ever encountered. I also devour her scones with a sick fascination.”
Her eyes flickered to his lips as she imagined a man like this devouring anything.
“You’ve decided to take the job.” It was said as a statement, not a question, and she bristled.
“We’ll get to that,” she said, leaning back and forcing calm into her expression. The negotiations had already begun. She couldn’t back out now. “I have a few questions first.”
His own face was blank, but he held his hand out to allow her to proceed.
“What’s your association with the Druids?”
If he was surprised by this line of questioning, he didn’t show it.
“‘Association’ is the incorrect word,” he said, crossing one leg at the knee and leaning against an arm of the chair.
“Enemy?” she suggested. “Is that what they are? Are you going to tell me that the Irish are the bad guys and the British are the good guys? Because it’s a bad look.”
“Not everything is as it seems.” His face was passive as he added, “There are no good guys or bad guys. This isn’t a fairy tale.”
“No, I’m not chased down at gunpoint in a fairy tale.”
“Depends on what story you’re reading.” He arched an eyebrow as if daring her to argue. “And once you are in my employ, you’ll be under my protection. The Druids will not be a concern.”
“Lorcan suddenly won’t want me dead?”
Graves frowned at that name. “Lorcan and I are under an . . . agreement. I won’t go after his if he doesn’t go after mine.”
“A cease-fire with the enemy. That’s convenient but does nothing to assure the safety of my friends, who he also tried to kill.”
Graves raised one gloved hand. “They seem safe enough with your Dreadlord friends.”
Kierse didn’t balk at that. Of course he already knew what had happened and where exactly Gen and Ethan were. And she had to take him at face value. Gen and Ethan were safe with Nate. She wasn’t going to get more out of him about it without giving something in return. She needed to change tactics if she was going to get through these negotiations.
“Are you the reason we have the Treaty?”
“I was involved,” he said all nonchalant as if it hadn’t changed the entire world.
“And did you sign it?”
He looked amused. “Did you?”
“I wasn’t involved,” she reminded him. “But you were.”
“I assure you that I did it for my own aims.”
“I’m sure you did,” she said dryly.
She waited to see if he would say more, but he didn’t. Normally, leading people to the point got them to start talking. Most people wanted to talk about themselves. But Graves seemed content with the silence.
Well, it had been worth a shot. She’d gotten at least a handful of reassurances from him, if not explicitly. Gen and Ethan would be safe. Lorcan wouldn’t bother her. Graves had helped with the Monster Treaty, but he hadn’t signed it. He must agree with it if he’d been involved. So he probably wasn’t going to kill her for no reason. Probably.
“I accept your job offer with some conditions.”
“Oh?” He leaned backward, dropping his foot back to the floor. His hands were still in those slim black leather gloves. His cheekbones were razor-sharp in the firelight.
She gritted her teeth, holding his gaze. She nearly choked on the words that came out of her mouth. “I want ten million dollars.”
Graves didn’t blink. “Three million.”
“I am not negotiating my salary. If you won’t pay me, I’ll walk.”
“Five million.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m the only person who can do this for you, which means I know my worth. Ten million. And half up front.”