A Deal With the Devil by Abby Matisse Page A

signed on the lines next to her. When he finished, he slid the agreement back into the manila envelope, placed it in his briefcase and snapped the clasps closed.
    He finished the last of his wine and stood. “Are you available for dinner tomorrow? I’ll call Max in the morning to break the news. I’m sure he’ll want to see you.”
    “Of course,” she said, trying to sound composed as a sense of dread settled over her. Their agreement had just started and it was already getting a little too real.
    “Good. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
    She closed the door behind him and collapsed against it, her eyes drawn to the white envelope lying on the table. The fat check nestled inside would solve all her financial problems. She’d already decided that, first thing tomorrow, she would pay off her debts. Given her money struggles, she should feel excited, exhilarated even. But instead, all she felt was a sense of impending doom which wasn’t surprising considering she’d just made a deal with the devil.

Chapter Seven

    manda studied her reflection in the mirror and smiled. She looked pretty good. Of course, she was wearing her go-to dress, the little black number she pulled out whenever she needed an extra shot of confidence. Which tonight, she could certainly use. The dress hugged her curves where it mattered and hid all the curves that didn’t. Best of all, it visually shaved off a good ten pounds, even without the help of Spanx.
    She smoothed her hands down the front and tugged at the hem. Then she reached into the closet and pulled out her black platform pumps, slipped her lip gloss and keys into her black evening bag and clipped on a pair of silver hoops.
    The doorbell rang.
    Her stomach fluttered. Still, she felt calmer than she had anticipated, but as she opened the door, her breath caught in her throat. “Hey,” she said. Typically a jeans guy, tonight Jake wore a dark gray suit that looked custom-fit to his tall, athletic body. The crisp white shirt popped against his sapphire tie and the combination emphasized his bronzed skin and impossibly blue eyes.
    “You look sensational.” Jake’s eyes slid down her body.
    She blushed. “Thanks.” Remember, this isn’t for real. Don’t fall for him again. This was a high stakes game of make-believe and she had been extremely well-compensated for her part. She reached for her coat and in as business-like a voice as she could muster, said, “Are we ready?”
    “Hang on.” Jake pulled a turquoise-colored ring box from his jacket and thrust it toward her.
    Amanda froze and stared at it. She had hoped for—no expected— a ring the night he dumped her. The break-up had been a harsh gesture on the eve of her twenty-ninth birthday and marked the end to a year-long fantasy in which she’d allowed herself to believe her dreams could come true. She should have known better.
    As she gazed at the box now, memories of the break-up rushed back. A night spent in a darkened bedroom with Kate, two bottles of wine and three boxes of Puffs Plus. She’d emerged the next morning with a massive hangover, a bright red nose and a shattered heart. And nearly a year later, she still wasn’t over it.
    “Take it.” Jake shook the box, the look on his face made it clear he preferred to rid himself of the offending item as soon as possible.
    Of course he did. A Tiffany box bearing an engagement ring would be sacrilege to a man like Jake. If the box hadn’t dredged up so many bad memories, the horrified expression on his face might have spurred a fit of giggles. When she still didn’t reach for the box, Jake grabbed her hand and plopped it in her palm.
    Relief permeated every aspect of his being.
    As Amanda’s gaze moved from Jake’s relieved expression to the turquoise box, she was forced to deal with the first tangible evidence of their agreement. She must have lost her mind. Seriously. Why else would she have agreed to fake an engagement with Jake? Sure, she needed the money and