Page 10 of The Bargain

“I’m being as courteous as can be.”

“By your standards, maybe.”

There’s the little jab I’m used to. Desdemona might think she’s special, but they all do it—every single rich kid that comes to me asking for a favour. They always find a way of reminding me of my own inferiority before they ask me to save their necks.

“Yes,” I answer her mildly. “By my standards—sure.”

I don’t remind her that we go to the same school, that I’m one of only seven students in the entire year who got accepted for the further maths class, that I was even invited into the Spearcrest Apostles—the school’s competitive academic excellence programme—but turned it down because I don’t want the Oxford scholarship you get for winning. Oxford is where Mr Pearson, my adoptive father, went, and I’d rather go straight to hell than follow in his footsteps.

Saying all this would feel good, I’m sure, but it simply wouldn’t be good for business.

And that’s all this is, in the end.

“What is it you’d like me to do for you?”

She takes a deep breath, clears her throat, stiffens her posture as if she’s about to give the head girl address at the start of assembly.

Whatever it is, it’s something big—she can barely bring herself to say it.

“Have you heard about what happened to Birnam Hastings?”

“Who hasn’t? He was beaten up a couple of days ago, hospitalised. Everybody knows, it was all over the Inquisitor.”

She sneers at the mention of the notorious account. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You too good for gossip?”

“I’ve more important things to do with my time.”

I look her up and down. “Like being here.”

She ignores this—wisely so.

“His parents are going to want to find out who put him in hospital,” she says delicately.

Ah. There it is.

This is what’s brought the perfect golden girl stumbling into my nasty little pit. She knows exactly what happened to Birnam, and now she wants me to take the fall. She wants to protect some rich little fucker from what would at the most be an unpleasant chat with the police and a scandal—in exchange for me compromising my own future by, in the best-case scenario, getting a criminal record and, in the worst-case scenario, going to prison.

Who in their right mind would say yes to something like this?

Someone who can look at the most beautiful girl in the world… and see nothing but leverage.

I stand brusquely and kick my chair out of the way, startling her. She steps back just as I step forward. I’ve always been tall, but so is she. Still, she’s the one who flinches when I lean in ever so slightly.

“You want me to go to jail for you, love?”

Something flickers in her brown eyes.

Yes. Of course she does.

It would be so easy for her to just say it outright—but girls like her can’t stand the way truth tastes. It’s not sweet and bubbly—it’s unpleasant and strong, it cuts sharp, leaves a bitter aftertaste.

But that’s exactly why I like it. The truth doesn’t soothe and shine—it’s as empty and neutral as the great void of space.

“No,” she lies. “I just want you to take the fall for the attack—if it comes down to it.”

“Which it will.”