Loving the Beast

"What are you willing to do to save the center, Gwendolyn?"
Unexpected, the question surprised her into speechlessness. She had the vague impression of a cat batting its paw at a mouse, toying with it, and she was the unlucky rodent. Unsure of how to respond to the ambiguous inquiry, she stuttered a reply: "I-I don't know what you mean."

"Exactly what I said. What are you willing to do—to sacrifice—to save the community center?"

She mulled over the sacrifices she'd already made—the cut in salary, the long hours. And then she considered the laughter of the children as they played kickball, the pride when one of the older teens graduated from high school, the gratefulness in a parent's eyes as they picked up their child after work, knowing he had been safe instead of in trouble on the streets.

"Anything," she stated and meant it. Long on hours and short on pay, but the rewards couldn't be numbered—or lost. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep it open."

The calculating gleam that entered Xavier's eyes almost made her retract the vow. Oh God, she mused, so that's what the devil looks like when he buys a soul.

"I can't interfere with the process at this late date," he murmured, sliding his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest. "Whether the committee's actions were right or wrong, to step in now would penalize the recipient, and regardless of how the decision came to be, that's not fair."

Tough shit. Gwendolyn twisted her lips, and from Xavier's arched brow, he must have interpreted her thoughts accurately.

"There's another alternative," he proposed, and once again Gwendolyn felt like the mouse to his cat. Except he no longer toyed with her, but licked his paws in preparation for dinner—her. "Instead of the grant, I'll personally fund the community center for a year. I'll give the center a check in the exact amount of the grant."

Joy soared in her chest. Oh God! She hadn't expected him to—
Suspicion delivered a hard reality slap. Wait a minute. She narrowed her eyes on his impassive expression. It revealed nothing, yet the man she'd encountered this evening didn't strike her as the magnanimous kind. A niggling doubt warned her of the trap that loomed one step after her agreement to his gift.

"That's generous of you," she replied, cautious. "What's the catch?"

The silence stretched so tight, she believed her nerves would snap under the strain.

"You," he stated. "You spend seven days and nights with me, in my bed." His lashes lowered, and he stared down at her from a hooded gaze that promised sex and sin. The timbre of his voice deepened, conjuring images of dark, hot nights and naughty acts she read about, dreamed about…touched herself to. "In other words, Gwendolyn, give me your body for the next week, and your precious community center remains open."