“You could do that?”
“I could.”
My brow furrows. “But the Syndicate isclearon only helping its own?—”
“I’d help you anyway.”
I frown a little deeper. He’s already told me about the internal friction with some of the older higher-ups who’ve clung to their loyalty to the previous Marquis. And I know that "friction" is more than just arguments in boardrooms.
“That would put you in a really hard place,” I whisper.
He lifts his shoulders. “It wouldn’t.”
“Vaughn—”
“Fine, let me rephrase: it might, but I wouldn’t give a fuck.”
I sigh. “And how bad would that look? The Marquis casually defying the rules of a centuries-old organization to help hisgirlfriend?”
My mouth snaps shut instantly.
Crap.
“Girlfriend, hmm?”
I groan. “I was just talking about the PR perspective of it. I know I’m not?—”
“Evelina—”
“—and you don’t do relationships, and I amnotasking that, and?—”
“Evelina, would you stop?—”
“—seriously, just forget it, that was really stupid?—”
He cups my jaw firmly, forcing my gaze to his.
“Don’t ever call my girlfriend stupid,” he growls, smirking.
I grin, my cheeks heating.
“And…what does that mean?” I ask hesitantly.
“It means what you already know, princess,” he murmurs. “That you’remine.”
His lips sear to mine, kissing me deeply and taking my breath away. But when he pulls back, he's frowning.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’m still worried that you’re only joining because of your father.”
I swallow. “Notjusthim, but?—”
“I have to show you something,” he says quietly. He takes my hands, his face darkening. “You need to see it before you commit to the Syndicate. Come.”
He leads me back into the bedroom, where his laptop is open on the desk near the windows. He sits at it, pulling me into his lap, then opens a folder on the laptop and pauses.
“You don’t need to go through with this for me,” he rumbles, his hand sliding up my cheek as his piercing eyes lock with mine. “You can stop all of this, and I won’t be going anywhere. But I need you to see this before you commit to the Syndicate.”
