She turned.
For one heartbeat, her mask slipped. I saw fear. Desperation. Something raw and unguarded.
Then it was gone, replaced by that cool, untouchable expression she wore like armor.
"Mr. Sidorov." She straightened, chin up, shoulders back. "Can I help you with something?"
"Who's getting out in ninety days?"
Her jaw tightened. "That's personal."
"Nothing in my house is personal." I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The pantry wasn't meant for two people—especially not when one of them was six-foot-three and built for violence. "Who is he?"
"That's—"
"I heard you." I moved closer, watching her pupils dilate. "You need fifteen thousand dollars by Christmas Eve. You need new identities. You're hiding from someone."
Katrina didn't back down. She never did. Instead, she tilted her head and looked me dead in the eye. "And that matters to you why, exactly?"
"Because you work for me."
"I clean your house. That doesn't mean I owe you my life story."
"You said you'd do anything for the money." I took another step. Now we were close enough that I could smell her shampoo—coconut and something I couldn’t put my finger on. "Did you mean it?"
Her breath hitched. Just a fraction. Just enough for me to notice.
"That," she said carefully, "was a private conversation."
"Not private enough." I set my glass on the shelf beside her head, caging her in. Not touching. Not yet. "You want to know what I heard? I heard a woman who's desperate. I heard awoman who's running scared. I heard a woman who just said she'd doanything."
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Whatever you're thinking. Don't."
"You don't know what I'm thinking."
"I know men like you." She pushed at my chest—actuallypushedme, her palm flat against my sternum. Heat shot through me like a bullet. "I know that look. I know what you want."
I caught her wrist. Her pulse hammered against my fingers.
"Then you know," I said softly, "that I could make your problem disappear."
She went very still.
"Fifteen thousand is nothing to me." I kept my grip gentle but firm, thumb brushing the inside of her wrist. "I could have new identities arranged by tomorrow. Papers. Passports. A life where no one can find you."
"In exchange for what?"
There it was. That sharp, suspicious intelligence that made me want to devour her.
"You," I said simply.
Olek
"You."
