“You have something of mine in that compound of yours,” Rafael starts seriously, and I can’t help it—I chuckle as I lean forward to snag Romero’s whiskey.
I twirl the glass between my fingers. “Oh?” This should be good.
Rafael clears his throat. “That’s a wrong turn of phrase. Not something ofmine, exactly. But it’s come to my attention that there’s a woman who means a great deal to my wife working as a maid in your compound. I want you to release her to me.”
Absolutely fucking not.
“Wouldn’t she have gone to you or your wife if she felt thesame way?” I point out reasonably as I scowl into Romero’s tumbler, no longer amused.
Nobody has the right to call Katie theirs, mistake or not. She’s mine.
Rafael frowns. “I don’t think you understand. I’m not asking you to release her to us, I’m telling you. Katherine has been a close friend of Emily’s for nearly a decade, and?—”
“No.” The word lands as I slam the tumbler onto the table, the forceful thud rippling through my hand and splattering cold whiskey over my skin.
“You are the one who doesn't understand, Rafael.” I make sure to look at each man in turn so they comprehend that I won’t repeat myself, then settle my gaze back on Rafael’s surprised face. “Katina ismine. I would appreciate it if you don’t interfere with our affairs. That might prove difficult for a nosy fiend like yourself, but try. Now if that was all, I have to go.”
I get to my feet, half-expecting them to stop me, but a glimmer of understanding lights their faces and they nod solemnly.
Romero shakes his head slowly. “Poor bastard. You don’t know what’s about to hit you.”
What? They’ve come to the wrong conclusion.
But I don't bother correcting them as I give them my back and walk out.
Is it really the wrong conclusion, though?
The traitorous voice whispers in my head as I slam the door behind me. When possession and possessiveness run this thick in your veins, when the thought of anyone else touching her makes you want to commit violence, when you’re willing to defy the most powerful man in New York City just to keep her…
Maybe…No.
I shove the thought away viciously and stride towards my car.
13
KATIE
My first day as a maid in Roan’s house is surreal in the worst possible way.
After he leaves me alone on the kitchen counter, I spend several minutes just sitting there, chest heaving as I try to process what the hell just happened. My tingling lips, painfully hard nipples, and thoroughly soaked panties damning testament to just how catastrophically bad an idea moving into his house really was.
It’s only day one. Day one.And we already camethisclose to fucking.
Shit, shit, shit.
I clumsily fix my bra and tug my shirt back on, tying my apron with fingers that won’t stop trembling.
You’re mine now, Katina.
Say it.
I shudder, my core clenching as the ghost of his demand washes over me. I would have said it too—my tongue was already rising to obey, to give him what he wanted—if not for the name he called me.
Katina.
Why? Why would he call me that?
Heart still thundering, I slide down from the countertop. My knees immediately buckle, legs shaking so badly I have to grab the edge to keep standing.
