I don't have a good answer. Saint has done nothing to earn my loyalty.
"What would you want from me? Specifically."
"Schedules. Security details. Upcoming deals." He's casual about it. "Nothing that would get anyone killed. Just information that helps me... position myself advantageously."
"And in exchange?"
"Money. Protection. And most importantly..." He pauses. "Purpose. A reason to keep breathing when breathing feels pointless."
He sees me. Really sees me.
Sees that I'm drowning.
And he's offering a rope.
It doesn't matter that the rope is poisoned.
When you're drowning, you grab anything.
"I need to think about it."
"Of course." He stands. "But don't think too long. The offer has an expiration date."
"How long?"
"Until I get bored. Or until Saint realizes you're here." He comes around the desk. Too close. "Which means you should probably leave soon."
I stand. My legs are shaking.
He reaches out. Touches my face.
I don't pull away. Can't pull away. Don't have the energy.
"You're so broken," he murmurs. "Like a beautiful toy someone played with too roughly."
I freeze. I don't like this.
"Saint doesn't deserve you," Alexei continues. "Never did. You're Bianca Nero's daughter. You should be powerful. Feared. Respected." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "Not this empty little ghost."
"I'm not a Nero."
"You'll always be a Nero." His voice is firm. "Adrian can disown you. Saint can break you. But blood is blood. And you have Bianca's blood." He presses his nose to my neck, and I cringe. "You could be a powerful woman, Gemma. A good girl. With the right man at your side, of course."
For the first time in days, I feel something.
Small. Distant. But something.
Anger.
"What?" I ask.
Alexei trails a finger down my sweater, to my non-existent cleavage. "You just need the right master. The right hand."
I'm a rubber band, and I've just fucking snapped.
CHAPTER 22
Gemma
