"I would appreciate that." The words come out rough, scraped raw by the whiskey and the emotion I'm trying desperately to contain. "I don't really know what I'm doing here."
Sienna's smile softens with understanding. "None of us did, at first. But you figure it out. And I'm here if you need someone to figure it out with."
Before I can respond, Drake's hand returns to the small of my back, warm and proprietary. "There’s still more to see and we need time for you to settle in."
The touch sends electricity skittering across my skin, and I force myself not to lean into it. Not to acknowledge the way my body responds to his presence like it recognizes something my mind refuses to accept.
I follow him out of the common area and through another maze of hallways until we reach a private elevator tucked into an alcove near the back of the floor. The doors are brushed gold, unmarked by any floor numbers or directional buttons.
Luca's words echo through my head.Welcome to the family.Family. The word catches somewhere beneath my ribs and twists. Gemma's face flashes through my mind, her bright laugh when she calls me on Sunday mornings, the way she signs off every text with a string of ridiculous emojis because she knows it makes me smile. My mother's tired eyes and trembling hands as she pretends everything is fine while the bills pile up on the kitchen counter like accusations.
They're in New York. Three hours away by plane. Far enough that I convinced myself they were safe from Victor's reach, but close enough that a man with his resources could have someone on their doorstep before I finished signing my name on that contract.
My feet stop moving before my brain catches up.
"Wait." The word comes out sharper than I intend, and Drake turns to face me with one eyebrow raised. "What about my mom and sister? They live in New York. Victor can still get to them if he can't find me."
Understanding flickers across his features.
"I've already put men on your mom and sister, baby girl."
Baby girl.
Those two words strung together hit me straight in the heart. My insides flutter with longing I refuse to acknowledge, a warmth laced with terror that has no business existing in the space between me and this man who has just purchased a year of my life.
I don't know what to do with it. With him. With any of this.
So I step into the elevator when the doors slide open, and I stand beside Drake Moses as we rise toward the penthouse where I'll be living for the next twelve months.
"Baby girl," I whisper, so soft the words barely leave my lips.
Yesterday I feared for my life.
Today I fear for my heart.
Nine
Katriana
The penthouse steals my breath the moment the elevator doors slide open.
Drake steps out first and I follow, my heels clicking against marble floors so pristine they reflect the evening skyline like still water. The space unfolds before me in sweeping lines of glass and stone, all sharp angles and expensive minimalism that screams wealth without whispering warmth.
It's stunning. Cold. Empty in a way that has nothing to do with furniture and everything to do with the man who lives here.
Beautiful and lonely. Just like him.
"This way." Drake's voice cuts through my observations, clipped and efficient as he leads me deeper into his domain.
The kitchen comes first. Massive counters in white marble veined with gray, gleaming appliances that look like they've never been used, and a row of leather stools pulled up to an island large enough to seat eight. The space smells faintly of lemon and something savory, evidence that someone has been cooking recently even if the surfaces remain spotless.
"Living room." He gestures to the left without slowing his stride.
I catch a glimpse of leather sofas arranged around a fireplace that sits cold and dark, a coffee table with clean lines and not a single magazine or book to soften its edges. The room has all the potential of being cozy, but Drake has left it bare of anything personal. No books stacked on side tables. No flowers in vases. No photographs on the mantle or artwork that might reveal something about the man who inhabits this space.
It's a showroom. A display case for a life that doesn't seem to be lived.
We move down a hallway lined with doors, and Drake stops at one near the end. He pushes it open and steps aside, allowing me to enter first.
