Thankfully—thankfully?—she returned to her senses.
Or did she?
“Not yet.” The reply didn’t seem sensible at all. Not as the words flew from her lips and certainly not when he stepped closer, close enough for the heat of him to envelop her. It had been the first thing she’d noticed about him, that warmth, and now he threatened to incinerate her.
She let her shawl fall open, revealing his weapons, but the movement did nothing to alleviate the heat. If anything, baring herself to him only made her hotter. His gaze tracked the complicated web of leather that held her in its wicked embrace, the weight of the weapons a tempting ache.
He leaned in, the scent of his lemon sweets making her mouth water with memory of their taste. Of his taste. “Not yet?”
She could close the distance between them without effort. All it would take was a little stretch—just enough to press her lips to his. Would he welcome it? He didn’t look like it. He looked . . . irritated.
In for a penny, in for a pound, Hattie supposed. “Not until you agree to the arrangement I’m offering.”
“You are mistaken if you think you are in a position of power, Hattie.”
She swallowed. “M-my father owns a shipping company. You surely know that.”
A grunt of acknowledgment.
“I’m to inherit it.” Surprise flashed through his eyes, there, then gone as quickly as she could name it. This was it. Her first deal as the head of the company. The beginning of the Year of Hattie. It didn’t matter that it was happening in the back room of a Covent Garden tavern with a man who was more criminal than customer.
What mattered was that Hattie would make the deal, and then she would make good on it. The thought cleared her mind. She straightened her shoulders. Lifted her chin. “I’m prepared to give you fifty percent of the income on our shipments until we return the forty thousand. Plus . . . ten percent interest.”
A dark brow rose. “Thirty percent.”
It was an enormous amount, but Hattie refused to show it. “Fifteen.”
“Thirty.”
She pressed her lips into a thin, disapproving line. “Seventeen.”
“Thirty.”
Exasperation flared. “You’re supposed to be negotiating.”
“Am I?”
“Do you not run a business?”
“Of a sort,” he said.
Obstinate man. “And as part of that business, do you not negotiate?”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Not often.”
“I suppose you just take what you like.”
A black brow rose in reply. “I might remind you that it is your penchant for taking what you like that has landed us here, Lady Henrietta.”
“I told you, I had nothing to do with it. I am only here to repair the damage.”
“Why?”
Because that business is the only thing I’ve ever wanted in my life.
“Because I don’t like thievery.” He watched her for a long moment—long enough for her to become uncomfortable. She shifted on her feet and said, “And so . . . twenty percent.”
He did not move. “So far, you’ve offered me nothing I would not have taken without your offering it. Indeed, you’ve offered less than I intend to take.”
She blinked. “More than twenty percent interest?”
He was enormous in the quiet space. “More than money, Hattie.”
She cleared her throat. “The deal is for money. Money and your knives.”
She regretted the words as soon as they were out, his amber gaze on the leather braces crisscrossing her chest making her wish she hadn’t removed her shawl.
“Then it isn’t a deal,” he said. “A deal implies that I get something in return. So, I ask again. What do I get from this deal that is so far simply a repayment of funds and a return of goods thieved, with no assurance that your company will avoid interaction with my businesses in the future?”
Your company. She didn’t miss the words, smooth and certain on his tongue. Didn’t miss the pleasure of them rioting through her—hers. She was so close to it all. The future she’d always wanted. She wouldn’t let him take it from her. “You have my assurance.”
“And I am to believe your father wouldn’t repeat himself when he decides he needs money again?”
Defensiveness flared. “It wasn’t my father.” He did not react to the words. She narrowed her gaze on him. “But you know that.”
“Tell me why you protect the truth.”
Because he’s my only chance at the business. That had been the deal with Augie. She made this disappear, she kept him safe, and he would tell Father to give her the