Chapter 6

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Chapter 6

"A million dollars!" I shouted.

"A little over actually," he replied, laughing at my reaction. "Give or take a couple hundred thousand."

"What's all the commotion about?" Shelly asked, coming into the hall just as Brad opened his door.

"She just found out I'm a millionaire," Vance said with a smile, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded over his chest.

"That's awesome!" Shelly said smiling, as if finding out one was a millionaire was an everyday occurrence in her world.

"Where did you get that kind of money?" Brad asked casually, slightly lifting an eyebrow.

Vance shrugged a shoulder, almost as if the subject was boring him.

"My dad opened the account for me before I was born. I guess he used to deal in antiquities quite a bit. He made a bundle off it," he explained.

Brad looked at Shelly in amazement.

"Told you," she said, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

"Told you what?" Vance asked.

"It's nothing," I said, waving my hand in dismissal as I recalled their conversation about a demon dealing in antiquities. "She made a comment at one of the warehouses one day, which is proving to be surprisingly accurate."

"Can I speak to you privately?" he asked, gesturing for me to come into his room with a nod.

"Alright," I said, entering as he stepped backward and closing the door softly behind me. I stood with my back up against it, and he leaned over me placing one hand on either side of my head.

"I want you to listen to me carefully, Portia. I need you to understand that none of this changes who I am," he said, searching my eyes. "It's just money. Money is helpful, but it doesn't buy you happiness. It buys you things. Do you get what I'm telling you?"

"Yes, I think so. It's just that I had this image of you in my head. You know, the guy who couldn't afford a motorcycle, so he fixed one up, that kind of thing."

"I built the motorcycle because it's something I enjoy doing, and I like working with my hands. There are times I could do things with magic, but don't, because I enjoy the work it gives me. I really am a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy."

"Well, you aren't right now," I said, letting my eyes trail away from his face and down his rock hard body—over the sculpted chest, the six-pack abs, and the muscled legs—before traveling back up to his face. His eyes were glowing by the time my gaze returned to his. He dropped his arms to his sides, leaning back, away from me.

"You'd better leave this room right now if you intend to keep staring at me like that," he said, deadly serious.

I turned quickly, being careful not to touch him, and opened the door as he moved away. I stepped out and hurried down the hall, my face flaming at my brazen reaction.

"Hey," he called after me, and I turned to look over my shoulder. "I love the pajamas." He winked at me with one of his red eyes before closing the door.

I smiled to myself and went back to my room.

"So how does it feel to be rich?" Shelly asked, from her perch atop the huge bed, where she was watching television.

"I'm not rich," I replied, climbing onto the bed next to her.

"You will be."

"I don't care if I ever see a dime of that money. I only want him," I said, meaning every word of it.

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