The bat slips from my fingers.
It hits the carpet with a muffled thump that seems to echo in the sudden ringing silence of my apartment. My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking, trembling with a fury so bright and hot it threatens to incinerate me from the inside out.
"An heir." The word tastes like poison on my tongue. "You want me to have your baby."
"I want you to give me a child, yes." He doesn't flinch or show any signs of actually feeling ashamed of his demands. Why would he? A Moses is nothing if not arrogant and entitled to the rotten core. Especially Drake-freaking-Moses.
The mammoth of a man stands there in my cramped living room like he hasn't demanded I trade my body for freedom.
"I need someone to inherit what I've built. To carry the Moses name forward."
I watch the mafia man for a second but he’s not letting the blank mask over his true feelings and thoughts slip a single inch.
"You're insane, Drake Moses." I'm laughing now, but there's no humor in the sound. It's sharp and brittle. "You're actually insane. I already have a job. I don't need to add one that has me on my back."
I bend down and snatch the bat from the floor, gripping it so hard my knuckles scream in protest. "I might as well stay with Victor's debt. At least he was honest about wanting to whore me out."
Danger flashes in Drake's eyes. Red lights go off inside my head warning me to be cautious. He pulls his phone from his pocket with movements that are deceptively casual, his thumb moving across the screen with practiced efficiency.
"What are you doing?" I demand.
He presses the phone to his ear, his gaze never leaving my face. "Luca. I need you to make a call. Do you still have all the details about where Katriana Bellrose works?”
He pauses to listen.
I rub at the pain stabbing into my chest. I swear if I drop dead right now it will be from the all-consuming rage Moses men cause me. “Let me get this straight. You snooped into my life? Is that Red Letter wish thing or a dirty, rotten Moses–”
“Good,” he cuts me off talking to whomever this Luca guy is. “Call her employer. Inform her boss that Katriana is handing in her resignation. Effective immediately."
No freaking way. I brush the edge of my glasses to push them back up my nose. "What do you think you're doing?" I surge forward, some wild instinct driving me to snatch the phone fromhis hand, but he sidesteps me easily, continuing his conversation like I haven't moved at all.
"Yes. Stacked Pages, the bookstore on Michigan. Her name is Rhonda. Tell her Katriana won't be coming back." He ends the call and slides the phone back into his pocket.
"Done."
"You can't do that. I need that money. It’s shitty, but I do like the noodle soups and books it provides me with." The words come out strangled, caught somewhere between rage and disbelief. "You can't just decide things for me, Drake. You can't just call my job and quit for me like I'm some kind of puppet whose strings you get to pull."
"Hm. Three-hundred-thousand dollars says I can. And I did." His voice is infuriatingly calm. "And you're going to accept it because the alternative is going back to Victor Kedrov and explaining to him why you'd rather work in his establishments than with me."
"Work as in sleep with you?" I throw the words at him like weapons, desperate to make him flinch, to crack that impossible composure. "Did you pay my debt as some cruel joke to your brother? I had no idea you were part of the Red Letter Syndicate. I never heard of it until yesterday. Had I known..."
His lashes lower, and he considers me through narrowed eyes. "What?" Drake cuts me off sharply, his voice cracking through the air like a whip. "You would have let Victor use you as a fuck machine until you dropped dead or one of his clients killed you for entertainment?"
I jerk back like he's slapped me. The few bricks that threatened to tumble from my walls lock back into place. “You’re an asshole,Drake Moses.” Tears form along the rims of my eyes, but don’t fall.
The words hang between us, ugly and brutal. They carry a truth I’ve held onto for a long time. All Moses men are poisonous.
My throat closes around a sob I won't give him the satisfaction of hearing.
Drake's expression shifts. Something cracks in the granite of his composure, a fissure of regret that deepens the lines around his mouth. He inhales harshly through his nose, his chest expanding beneath the fine wool of his suit.
He steps into me and pulls my chin up until our eyes connect. "I didn't mean it like that." His gaze roams over the bruises on my face and neck. I’ve washed off the concealer so there’s no hiding the dark marks.
Goosebumps rush over my bare arms at the softness in his tone. "Yes, you did." My voice comes out steadier than I feel, cold and hard as ice over a river that's still flowing underneath. "You're no better than your brother. Cruel to the core, and always with an ulterior motive. I wouldn't sleep with him, so he trashed me. Now you're trying your luck with a different approach."
"It's not like that." He steps past me, his shoulder brushing mine as he moves toward the window, and the brief contact sends electricity crackling through my veins despite my fury. He pulls out his phone again, pressing it to his ear with movements that speak of barely contained tension. "Change of plans. Tell Kon I need him at this address."
The blood drains from my face so fast I feel lightheaded.
