The next morning came quickly and the victory of the night before was no longer as sweet. I found myself in Alexei's office, intent on setting more than a few boundries for our 'relationship' or lack there of. It didn't matter to me if he thought we were mates or if anyone one else believed him. I didn't, and even if I had believe him--I wanted nothing to do with the psychopath and that was all that truly mattered.

I'm seated in the chair across from Alexei, the desk acting as a barrier between us. My gaze wandered around the room, it was much lighter than most of the rooms I had taken stock of so far—inviting pictures posted on the walls. This room was clearly made to have a particular appeal, one that would appease the masses that probably flowed in an out of here.

He was staring at me, as he held the phone to his ear, "You obviously aren't looking hard enough. I sent you on this because I trusted you to with the matter but perhaps I was wrong about that, Magnus." I could hear the sound of a harsh voice echoing through the other side, but couldn't understand what was being said. All I knew was that Alexei had a way of making enemies, even of people who he may have regarded as friends. What a horrible talent to have...

"It's almost been a month! We need to find him and we need to find him now before the organization buries him so deep that he's lost to us forever." He growled as he hung up the phone, slamming a clenched fist down onto this desk. I tensed at the action, feeling wary of being in a room with an emotional Lycan. He must have noticed my reaction because he forced himself to take a deep breath, spinning his chair around so that the back was to me.

I wondered who it was that he was looking for that had him up in arms. Whoever it was they must be important to him to elicit such an emotional response, because from what I had experienced he didn't seem get very emotional—psychotic yes, emotional no.

Slowly the chair spun back around, his facade back in place, "What can I help you with, snowflake? Come to apologize for last night?" I outright laugh in his face at the last question, he doesn't seem to find my response as amusing as I found his question.

I turned my gaze downward, picking at my chipped nail polish, "I thought it might be a good idea to sort out how this whole arrangement between us is going to go...so there isn't any further confusion." I peered up to meet his gaze again. I wanted to gage where the beast was at. Alexei holds my attention, silently for a moment with no expression. Slowly a smile creeped in over his lips, the chair creaking as he leaned back—crossing his arms over his chest. 

I took that as a sign that he wanted me to continue, "While my brother and I are here under your care you will treat us as like business partners. Whatever information you get or learn in regard to the gala event, you'll share with either of us and we will do the same. As far as I'm concerned this is an open investigation." After much though last night and this morning I had realized that maybe the best way to deal with Alexei and the mate situation was to turn it into a job.

Alexei tilted his head to the side in a thoughtful way as if he was letting my proposition settle over him, "Are you going to pay me a protection fee? After all I don't remember hiring you and I don't remember you hiring me. If you want me to treat you as my partner...I'm going to expect to get compensated for the time and energy I spend working this case with you."

I frowned at his response, sitting up a little straighter in my seat—scooting closer to the edge, "Fine, how much do you want, you mangy dog?" I could tell that he didn't like my nickname by the big toothy grin he gave in response, looking very much like a serial killer.

"My services are pretty expensive snowflake. I'd expect hundred dollars day to anyone who hired me. Considering that I'm also giving you room and board..."

"Not my choice..." I muttered bitterly.

"Regardless, I am charged with the feeding and overall care of your being. That raises the price to two hundred and fifty dollars a day." He glanced upward to the ceiling as if doing all the calculations in his head, before meeting my gaze again, "You're look at about seventeen hundred and fifty dollars each week...give or take...and depending how long we end up working together on this...well, that could really add up."

My mouth is complete agape, opening and closing like a fish out of water. I snapped out of it, pushing myself up from my seat, "That's ridiculous! Where am I going to find that kind of money?"

He shrugged his shoulders, not seeming at all concerned, "That's not really my problem. I could always loan you—"

"I'd rather walk through a hell gate than take money from you!" I snapped, lost in my growing rage. I was starting to truly believe that perhaps he was the devil himself. He was smiling with amusement, a look of victory in his gaze. I swore I could have leapt over his desk at him and cut of his head. I would happily mount it on my bedroom wall over my bed so I could gaze upon it every night—it would be only dreamless sleep for me. 

Unfortunately for me I had come into his office with the thought that I had the upper hand, with the intention of winning my own victory but once again he had been ready to combat my attack. Now I felt like I was simply trying to keep ground.

I crossed my arms over my chest, his eyes following the movement, "What do you want in exchange? We both know you planned for this..." He only smiled at me as if to confirm my suspicions like the sadist that he was, "So out with it! What demands do you have for me this time?"

He gave a moment for a small silence to develop between us, as if to show me that he was the one with the power and we were going to do this on his time. I gritted my teeth, but kept my lips sealed tight.

"I want only your time, snowflake."

I lifted a brow in suspicious confusion, "My time?" it seemed like a trick, an offer that was too good to be true.

"That's what I said." He quipped, leaning forward—resting his elbows on his desk. I stared at him, waiting for something—anything really, that would give away whatever master plan he had cooked up in his head but his expression remained unchanged.

I lowered my palms onto his desk, leaning forward, "How much of my time are we talking about?"

He tapped his long finger against the desk in thoughtful manner that made me bristle up with annoyance, "One hour every evening and one full day on the weekend—any day of my choosing."

I narrowed my eyes. If I wanted to keep ground then I couldn't give into his first demand. I would have to bargain, "I'll give you one hour every evening and three hours of my time every sunday. Take it or leave it." I pushed my will on him, but he had done the same to me since the moment I met him. It was only fair that he get a taste of his own medicine to learn that he couldn't treat people as if he were their god and they were only here to please him or do his bidding as he saw fit.

He narrowed his eyes, letting a long stream of silence develop between the two of us. I wanted to look away but I forced myself the hold his gaze the entire time. I knew he wasn't going to accept my offer but he would have to give some, which meant he didn't have all the control—another small victory for me.

"Eight hours every Sunday." His placed his counter offer, body tense.

I narrowed my own eyes, "Five hours every Sunday."

"Deal!" He snapped quickly, lifting his hand up into the space between us. I hadn't been expecting him to give without more argument which made me even more suspicious about what I was going to have to do in those five hours I forced to be with him. I stared down at his hand for a long moment, contemplating if there was anything—any clues that I may have missed.

With a reluctant sigh, I lifted my hand and placed it into his. The strange warmth of his touch and the tingling sensation rushed up my arm and kickstarted my heart. My magic hissed to life, wanting to reach out and touch the male before me. I shook his hand quickly before pulling away. 

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, snowflake." He smiled, knowingly. 

"It's Poppy." I corrected him as my frown deepened. 

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Song: Ugly Boy--Die Antwood 

A/N: They truly are the perfect match ....there is going to be blood. :-P