“Who is he?”
Valerie licked her lips, her gaze sliding away briefly. Her breath hitched, however, when Dravka reached across the distance and made her look at him, his thick thumb caressing her cheek.
His gentleness was enough to make her want to cry. Couldn’t he understand that looking at him was painful? Couldn’t he understand that his touch made her want to forgeteverythingand just curl up in his arms and wish formore?
It was toohard.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, finding she couldn’t lie to him. She might be able to lie to herself but she could never lie to Dravka. “I met him yesterday.”
The muscle in his jaw squeezed and released, those eyes intense and pinning her in place.
“He’s the son of a wealthy importing family. His mother is a client of Ravu’s,” Valerie found herself saying. “I think that’s how she made this happen.”
There was no question of who ‘she’ was.
“Demav,” he rasped, turning his face back up to the ceiling. His hand left her and he brought his palms to his eyes, rubbing at them. “You…”
“What?” she whispered.
“You don’t have to do this.”
The words were torn from his throat, ravaged and raw. His voice was still husky from the alcohol, curling in her ears.
He dropped his hands and sat up quickly. Valerie leaned back, watching him turn so he faced her, his long legs sliding over the bed’s edge in front of her.
“You don’t have to do this,” he repeated, his eyes flashing.
Her smile was sad. Of course she had to. If she didn’t, it meant thattheywould stay here. It meant that Madame Allegria wouldn’t pay them what she owed them.
“I do,” Valerie said.
“Why?” he snarled.
She swallowed, feeling the waves of anger rolling off him. He was drunk. She couldn’t talk to him about these things now. It didn’t help that she felt that little ball of desperation and panic rise up the back of her throat, however.
“Dravka,” she whispered.
“Why?”
Her nostrils flared, her breaths coming quick.
“Because I want better for you!” she exclaimed.
He blinked, tilting his head back to rest along the brick wall behind him, exposing his throat. She watched it bob as he swallowed.
“What does that mean?”
“This is my choice,” she told him. “I agreed to this.”
“Agreed to what?” he growled, his impatience brimming.
She didn’t want to talk about this now. Not when he was drunk and angry.
She cast a desperate glance at the door, beginning to rise from the floor. “Dravka, I have to—”
“Veki,” he rasped, catapulting himself from the bed with surprising grace and fluidity just as she reached for the handle. He slammed the door shut, hard enough to rattle the flickering sconce on the wall.
He turned her around so her back was pressed to it…and thenhepressed intoher.
