Gambling.
Oh God.
Gabe, what the hell did you get us involved in?
"Your brother owes them money," Adrian continues, reading my expression. "Fifty thousand dollars, from what I understand. And when gamblers can't pay, the Morozovs go after their families."
Gabe had told me as much.
"I don't have that kind of money, so I don't know what they're hoping for."
"They'll find a way to get their money back. Either by making an example of you—sending a message to other debtors—or by finding more creative ways to monetize you."
The way he says "monetize" makes my skin crawl. "What does that mean?"
"You're young. Attractive. Alone." His eyes are cold. "The Morozovs run clubs in Brooklyn. They're always looking for new talent. Whether that talent is willing or not."
My stomach drops. The implication is clear, and I feel like my head is going to explode.
"Tell me about your brother," he says.
"How do you even know his name?" Accusation edges my voice. "Did you look into me?"
"I make it my business to know things when they concern me." His expression is unreadable. "Now. Tell me about Gabriel."
I want to refuse, but his words ring in my head. Whatever Gabe got us both involved with is life and death.
"He's my younger brother," I say quietly. "Twenty-four. He has a gambling problem. Has for years." My throat tightens. "I've tried to help him. Given him money. Made him promise to stop. But he always goes back."
"Fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money but not..." he trails off with a shrug. "Let's just say I've seen worse."
"It's a lot of money for us." My hands shake slightly. "And I wouldn't be surprised if it's more."
"What did he tell you about the Morozovs?"
I shrug. "He didn't go into specifics. He told me he owed dangerous people money. I figured he was talking about people who owned a casino or something. Not the mob!" I look up at Adrian. "He came to me a few weeks ago. Begging for help. I said no. I told him I couldn't keep bailing him out." I swallow thickly. "And like I said, I don't have that kind of money."
"He disappeared when you told him that?"
"Yes." The guilt eats at me. "A man came into the shop." I pause. "A Russian man. He said his name was Artem."
Adrian's eyes narrow. "Not familiar, but that doesn't mean he's not one of Alexei's men. What did he want?"
"He was looking at books. Asked about first editions. Then he left."
"He was casing the place. Figuring out where you'd be vulnerable." Adrian's jaw tightens. "Did you tell Gabriel about him?"
"Yes. That's the last time we spoke, and I only think he answered because I kept calling."
Adrian leans back, his expression thoughtful. "When did you last see him in person?"
"The day he asked for money. Ten weeks ago, right before..." I trail off, not wanting to sayright before I slept with you.
"Right before the gala," Adrian finishes. "Interesting timing."
There's something in his tone that makes my blood run cold. "What do you mean?"
"You slept with me the night of the gala. Got pregnant. Disappeared. And your brother owes money to my rivals." He tilts his head. "Doesn't that strike you as convenient?"
