Page 35 of The Bargain

His eyes drop to my mouth. Is that what he’s doing, I wonder—faking it? But what would be the point? There’s nobody here except him and me.

My heartbeat quickens, pulse leaping erratically. Is he about to kiss me? Does he want to? I know it shouldn’t matter—it’s not relevant to the plan. But I can’t help but wonder. Does Elias actually want to kiss me? What even is his type? He never dates, though he wouldn’t be short of options if he wanted to. Even I can admit it to myself, no matter how grudgingly. He’s clever, quick-witted, charismatic. Lean and tall, with an easy, lazy grace. He’s not remotely bad looking, even though he needs a haircut. Any girl would be interested—but what kind of girl would he go for, if he wasn’t so busy always working and scheming?

“I wouldn’t know,” I whisper back, suddenly unsettled, disturbed by my own unravelling thread of thought.

My eyes drop to his lips. His mouth is surprisingly beautiful, with a perfect bow shape. Kissable—of course. Elias is only lacking in money and morals—everything else, he has in abundance. Intelligence, charm, beauty. Only he spends those in a way I can’t understand, like he thinks he has coins of copper instead of gold.

“Yes, you do,” Elias says, his voice warm and husky. I have the eerie feeling he can tell what I’m thinking, can see right through me like I’m made of glass. “I could prove it to you.”

I let out a low, annoyed huff of laughter. “How?”

“Mm.” He pretends to think. His eyes stay on mine, disarmingly intimate. “It would require you trusting me.”

“Why? You don’t trust me.”

It’s his turn to laugh. For the first time, the proximity between us doesn’t feel hostile or dangerous, but something else, something different and unsettling.

“What’s in your pocket?”

I don’t know why I ask. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I saw him bent over that newspaper, shoulders tight, face drawn.

He hesitates for a split second before answering.

“An article.”

“About what?”

“Nothing interesting, really. Propaganda piece for the Pearsons’ electoral campaign.”

I stare at him, blinking, genuinely taken aback. I don’t think he’s lying—so why would he feel so strongly about something like that? The Pearsons are his adoptive family, but he’s never seemed particularly close to them, or interested.

The only thing notable about the Pearsons is their controversies, anyway. That’s probably why they need propaganda—to deflect claims that they’re trying to manipulate the public. Even when they try to do good things, they face backlash, accusations of trying to use⁠—

Oh.

Suddenly, I remember the small glimpse of the title I saw before Elias ripped the page.

“Is the article about you?”

Something flashes in his eyes, and I notice the jumping of muscles in his jaw. How could I miss it? We’re so close there’s barely a kiss between us.

“Of course not,” Elias answers, light and amused as ever. “I’m not worth writing about, love.”

But there’s a tension thrumming right beneath his skin, and he’s starting to pull away, and suddenly my heart is beating a thousand miles a minute.

Is that why you agreed to our bargain?

To get away from the Pearsons?

“Elias.” I catch him by the lapel of his blazer, stopping his retreat.

He glances down at my hand, then slowly back up to my eyes, lingering all the way up my arm, throat, mouth.

“Don’t make this into something it’s not,” he says in a low warning tone.

I catch my breath. “Like what?”

“Dess, you here?”