Ten thousand pounds for one night. Splendor stared at the piece of paper he'd just placed on the table. If she accepted what would that make her?
A very rich woman. Actually.
"Oh, for the love of Christ on a horse in a nightgown." His cynical exhalation sent icy particles spinning through her veins. "You really do think the worst of me, don't you?"
"Well, Your Grace, it certainly isn't diff-"
His gaze, darkly enigmatic in the amber lantern light, flicked across her face.
"Or it is that you think so highly of yourself? Certainly highly enough to believe I would give you ten thousand pounds for some other reason."
She didn't. But for ten thousand pounds, she could laugh in Gabe's face for what he'd done. She could wipe his imprint from her mind.
For ten thousand pounds, she could get him back. For ten thousand pounds, she could tell him to go to hell.