"My position." Her laugh is sharp, humorless. "You mean broke and desperate?"
"I mean vulnerable." The truth comes out harder than I intend. "You're living in my house, dependent on my family's goodwill, one paycheck away from losing everything you've worked for. I'm offering you security. Permanence."
"At what cost?"
Everything.
But I don't say it again. Instead, I reach out—slow, deliberate, giving her time to pull away—and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin is warm against my fingertips, and I feel the shiver that runs through her.
She feels it too. I see it in the dilation of her pupils. I’m not imagining this.
"The cost is proximity," I say quietly, letting my fingers linger against her jaw. "To me. To my world. To things you might not want to see or know."
"Your world." She holds my gaze, breathless. "The Bratva."
I don't confirm or deny. "My world," I repeat. "Which includes obligations. Expectations. Enemies, though they'll never touch you."
"How can you promise that?"
"Because I've never failed to protect what's mine."
The possessiveness in my voice creates a heavy, charged silence between us.
"I'm not yours," she whispers, but her voice trembles.
"Not yet." I let my hand fall away, though it takes every ounce of discipline I possess. "But if you say yes, you will be. And I take care of what's mine, Aria. Always."
She turns away, wrapping her arms around herself. It’s a defensive gesture, protecting her front, her heart. My father taught me that weakness gets you killed. That sentiment is a luxury men like us can't afford.
But watching this woman, who smells like light and defiance, the ice I’ve built around myself starts to fracture. I’ve wanted her since the first week. I’ve stayed awaybecauseI wanted her. Because I’m forty-two and blood-soaked, and she’s twenty-two and trying to save lives.
"What about the physical side?" she asks, keeping her back to me. "You said everything. Does that include—"
"Yes."
The word is immediate. Rough. Unapologetic.
She turns back, her eyes wide. "You expect... you think I’m just going to sleep with you because you pay for my tuition?"
"I don't pay for sex, Aria."
I walk around the island. The barrier is gone now. There is nothing between us but air and tension and six months of unsaid words.
"Then what?" she challenges, backing up until her hips hit the counter. "You think I’ll just fall into your bed out of duty?"
"No." I stop inches from her. I tower over her, blocking out the light, blocking out the room. "I think you’ll fall into my bed because you want to."
Her breath hitches. "You’re arrogant."
"I’m observant." I place a hand on the counter on either side of her, trapping her. "I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. I’ve seen your breath catch when I walk into a room. You’re scared of me, Aria, but that’s not the only thing you feel."
"I don't—"
"Don't lie to me." My voice drops to a growl. "We’re negotiating, remember? Full disclosure."
She looks up at me, her chest heaving. The denial dies on her lips because we both know it’s a lie. The air between us is so thick it feels like static electricity, sparking against my skin.
"I’ve stayed away from you," I tell her, low and rough, my voice laced with the raw ache I've buried for months. "For months. I’ve kept my distance because you work for me. Because you’re young. Because I’m not a good man, and you deserve better."
