A Trade Of Wills

I don’t think he’ll ask me to explain, but he does. His question catches me off guard.  

“Why not? Is it because of the wheelchair?”  

His tone sounds casual, but there’s something hidden in it that I can’t quite figure out. I stop watching the crowd and meet his eyes. “No, it’s because I’m not some obedient little dog, Mr. Di Salis.”  

Adrian laughs softly, shaking his head as he takes another sip of his drink.  

“What happened?” I nod toward his legs.  

“You don’t waste time or beat around the bush do you, Nila?”  

“Would you prefer I did?”  

“It was a car bomb,” he answers, voice calm but clipped. “Shrapnel tore through my right knee and shattered it.”  

“Does it still hurt?”  

“Like hell,” he replies, then downs the rest of his drink.  

“You have money,” I say. “Can’t you get some sort of surgery?”  

He leans back in his chair, a faint smirk on his face. “Turns out, there are things even money can’t fix.”  

“That sucks,” I reply with a shrug. “At least you can afford to buy a wife. For three million, you could’ve bought a dozen, not just one.”  

Adrian tilts his head, watching me closely, then leans forward, his voice low and smooth. “You, Nila Roberts, are a very unusual woman.”  

Even his voice feels like it’s pulling me in. Damn him.  

“My mom agrees with you,” I say, forcing myself to sound light. “She’s convinced no man would ever put up with my kind of crazy,not for long anyway.”  

“What a supportive mother you have,” he says dryly. He reaches out and runs his finger along the inside of my arm, tracing from my elbow to my palm. His touch is so light it sends shivers up my spine, yet it feels like it’s burning into me.  

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp.  

It’s hard to think, let alone answer, with his finger still moving slowly over my skin. “Why do you ask? Would you let me out of this deal if I did?”  

“No,” he says firmly.  

“Then I guess it doesn’t matter,” I say, trying to sound unaffected.  

Adrian holds my hand now, raising it closer to his lips. The corner of his mouth tilts up into the faintest smile.  

“I looked you up online yesterday,” he says, his deep voice steady. My fingers hover just inches from his lips. “Who knew such a delicate hand could create such dark, haunting art?”  

I smile, keeping it small, even though his words and touch make my heart race. “You don’t like it?”  

“Oh, no,” he says, his voice dropping a bit lower. “I love it.”  

His lips brush against the tips of my fingers. The touch is light, but it feels like an electric jolt. He stays like that for a few seconds before lowering my hand, but he doesn’t let go.  

Adrian’s charm is overwhelming, and he’s clearly using it to play the part of the attentive fiancé.  

“Would you paint something for me?” he asks, his voice softer now.  

The question surprises me. “I don’t take requests.”  

“Why not?”  

“I don’t like being forced to do things I don’t want to do,” I say pointedly.  

Adrian’s smile widens. He knows exactly what I mean.  

“How about a trade?” he offers, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “You paint something for me, and I’ll give you something you want.”  

Anything she asks?

"Anything" I say