Part 2My Curse Is His Only Fortune

My phone buzzed against the nightstand early the next morning, pulling me out of a restless sleep.

It was an unknown number.

I rubbed my eyes and answered, my voice rough. "Hello?"

"Is this Cassie?" It was a man's voice. Low, smooth, and chillingly calm.

"Yeah. Who is this?"

"My name is Gideon Maxwell."

Gideon Maxwell?

I dug through my foggy brain for a second before coming up entirely empty.

"Do I know you?" I asked.

"Yesterday afternoon. The intersection on Monroe Street. Your e-bike. My car."

Oh.

The guy in the black sedan.

"Right, you," I said, playing dumb. "Did you get your tire fixed?"

A heavy silence stretched over the line.

"Cassie, I think we need to meet," he said finally.

"I don't think so. I’m just a delivery driver. I don't exactly run in the same circles as guys who drive cars that cost more than my life."

"My tire blew out precisely three seconds after you told it to." His voice was devoid of emotion, which somehow made the hairs on my arms stand up.

"Coincidence," I lied smoothly. "City streets are a mess. Nails, glass. It happens."

"Does it?" he murmured. "Then let’s meet and discuss this 'coincidence.' Unless, of course, you aren't interested in learning how a simple coincidence might result in a rather large compensation check for you."

Compensation?

I sat up straight in bed.

"What kind of compensation?"

"Come meet me, and you'll find out," he said. "Noon today. The coffee shop at the bottom of your dispatch building."

He hung up before I could say another word.

I sat there staring at the blank screen for a long time.

Compensation? What was this? Hush money?

My chest felt tight. I didn't want anything to do with this man. The cardinal rule of my life was simple: the more I cared about someone, the closer I got to them, the more likely my mouth was to ruin them.

But I was broke.

Rent was due in three days, and my bike desperately needed a new battery if I wanted to keep my job.

At noon, I walked into the coffee shop.

It was quiet, the air conditioning blasting like a meat locker.

Gideon was already there, sitting in a leather booth in the back. He was still wearing black, a cup of black coffee steaming untouched in front of him.

He saw me, caught my eye, and offered a microscopic nod toward the empty chair across from him.

I pulled it out and sat down.

"Alright, talk," I said, skipping the pleasantries. "What's this about money?"

He reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew a thick, sealed envelope, and slid it across the table.

"There's five thousand dollars in there. To cover your dry cleaning, and the emotional distress of the incident," he said smoothly.

I stared at the envelope. I didn't touch it.

"Five grand? What kind of racket are you running?" I shot back, though my heart was hammering against my ribs. My jeans cost forty bucks at a thrift store.

"How much do you want, Cassie?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His dark eyes locked onto mine.

"I don't want your money." I pushed the envelope back. "Yesterday was a freak accident. If you think I'm bad luck, then do yourself a favor and stay away from me."

I grabbed my bag and started to stand.

"Cassie," he said.

I stopped, but didn't turn around.

"You don't have to pretend with me," he said softly. "I know it wasn't a coincidence."

My stomach plummeted.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're a fascinating creature," he mused, leaning back in his chair. "I rarely encounter things that genuinely surprise me. So, I want to play a game with you."

"What kind of game?" I turned back to look at him.

"A test... to prove if you really are as 'gifted' as I think you are." A slow, dangerous smile curved the corner of his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. "If you win, I'll write you a check for fifty thousand dollars. If you lose..."

"What happens if I lose?"

"If you lose, I give you a hundred thousand," he said evenly.

I stared at him.

This man was utterly, completely unhinged.

And heaven help me, so was I.

Because a twisted, buried part of me was actually tempted.

Not by the money. But by the simple, staggering fact that he wasn't looking at me like I was a monster. He wasn't afraid.

He looked at me like he understood.

"Fine," I breathed. "Let's play."