"I don't need to." She tried to push past me again. This time I caught her waist, holding her in place. Her skin was warm through the thin fabric of her uniform. "Let go."
"Hear me out first."
"I said–"
"Ninety days," I continued, not releasing her. "You belong to me. In my bed. In this house. Anywhere I decide. You don't say no. You don't refuse me. You give me complete access."
"You're insane."
"I'm honest." My thumbs pressed into the curve of her hips, feeling her tremble. "In exchange, you get the money you need. The identities. And my protection. No one touches you. No one comes near you. Not your ex. Not anyone."
"Protection I don't need."
"You're hiding in my pantry making desperate phone calls. You need protection." I leaned down until my mouth was close to her ear. "You need me."
She shoved at my chest again, harder this time. "What I need is for you to move."
"Tell me I'm wrong." I didn't budge. "Tell me you're not terrified. Tell me you have another way to get what you need in ninety days."
Silence.
"That's what I thought."
"You're an asshole."
"Yes." I finally released her, but didn't step back. "I'm also your best option. Youronlyoption if that conversation was any indication."
Katrina smoothed down her uniform, that mask sliding back into place. But I'd seen behind it now. I'd seen the fear and the calculation and the desperate hunger for a way out.
"Even if I was insane enough to consider this," she said carefully, "what makes you think I'd agree to 'no restrictions'? You could mean anything by that."
"I do mean anything."
"Hard pass."
"Then tell me your restrictions."
She stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "You're serious."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"You look like you're three seconds away from bending me over this shelf."
"Five seconds," I corrected. "But I'm waiting for an answer first."
A flush crept up her neck, dark and beautiful against her brown skin. "This is insane."
"This is business." I picked up my vodka glass and finished it. "You have something I want. I have something you need. We negotiate terms."
"Terms." She laughed, but it sounded brittle. "You mean how you get to use my body for three months while I what—lie back and think of England?"
"If you're lying back, I'm doing it wrong."
"Jesus Christ."
"Wrong religion, but you can call me that if it helps." I set the glass down. "Here's what I'm offering, Katrina. Full terms. Fifteen thousand dollars transferred to your account tonight. New identities—real ones, the kind that will actually keep you hidden—within one week. And a guarantee that whoever you're running from won't get within a mile of you or your sister."
Her eyes widened. "How did you?—"
