“Do you use?” he asks me, scanning my bare arms for track marks.
I look with him before I shake my head. “Never have.” And because of my past, I certainly never will.
“You may want to consider it to cope with what you’re getting involved in.”
“Not a chance.”
“We can supply you.”
“Why are you so pushy on me refusing drugs?” I demand, looking at Andre for a second just to get a break from Nix.
Andre takes it upon himself to answer. “Stronger women have broken without it, love.”
I bristle at the nickname he’s given me, and completely done talking to the sleaze-ball who is eyeing me like a snack, I turn my attention back to Nix. “I won’t be using drugs.”
“Suit yourself,” he says after a moment, lifting his shoulder and letting it fall.
“I’ll be fine.”
He shrugs again. “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself and not me.”
I narrow my gaze at him once more. I don’t care how hot he is. I won’t give him the satisfaction that I’d buckle and use because he suggests it.
His eyebrows lift in a challenging sort of way. It’s the most expression I’ve seen him wear since I got here. “Have you ever recorded yourself?”
With my eyes still narrowed, I answer, “No.”
Nix’s jaw ticks again, but it’s Andre who says something. “Everyone loves raw material, Nix.”
I spare him a glance. Just one.
“So they do,” he agrees. To me, he asks, “Are you clean?”
“I already told you I don’t do drugs.” My shoulders deflate from all the questions. I knew there’d be many, but by the way this is going, it sounds like they think I’m not the right fit for whatever they’re looking for.
“I’m not talking about drugs,” Nix says, slowly shaking his head.
“Oh,” I breathe out when it clicks with me. “I’ve only ever had one partner in my life, and I was his only partner as well. But if you need proof . . .” I open my clutch again and take out a folded piece of paper that has my STD test results printed on it. It’s fake, obviously, but they don’t need to know that. I know I’m clean, and, according to Peyton, I needed proof that I am.
I pass him the paper, and he unfolds it to read the results. Satisfied, he drops it on the table as if it means nothing to him now. It’s almost as though he’s trying to find reasons not to bring me on, but I don’t allow the disappointment to curdle what little I ate for supper. This is my only way in, and I need them to accept me.
“This place will eat you alive,” he mutters.
“Give her a chance,” Andre interjects. “If you don’t, I will.”
Nix’s nostrils flare, and he grinds his teeth. For a second, I wonder what Andre does because maybe it’d be easier than recorded sex.
“Please,” I whisper to Nix. “I need the job.” I’m not above begging at this point. I can’t go home with my tail tucked between my legs.
He looks away from me long enough to pop his neck in contemplation and to clearly relieve the tension that slithered in after Andre’s proclamation. Whatever Andre does, Nix doesn’t want me anywhere near it because he says, “Follow me.”
Slowly, I stand from my chair, confusion etched intoevery line of my face. He isn’t kicking me out like I anticipated, but where the hell would we go in this house?
He starts to walk out of the dining room, kicks my phone out of his way, and disappears down the hall to the foyer.
I look at Andre for a second, who is wearing a grin. “I’d follow him if you want the job.”
“To where?”
