“The bruises are because you failed to make a payment?" Drake's voice is quiet, dangerous.
I nod again and instinctively reach for my neck, where the worst of Victor's marks still bloom purple and green beneath my blouse. I tied a scarf around my neck to keep eyes from prying, but that doesn’t take away the ache.
"He came to my apartment a few days ago. Reminded me that I was behind on payments. Reminded me that he has other ways I could pay if the money doesn't come through."
A muscle ticks in Drake's jaw. "What did he say? Exactly."
The memory rises unbidden, Victor's papery hands around my throat, his reptilian smile, the cold promise in his pale blue eyes. "He said my sister would fetch a good price in one of his establishments. That he's been cultivating my family's desperation for years, waiting for the right moment."
Drake's hand moves to my shoulder, brushing the hair away from where it falls against my neck. The gesture is simple, gentle, but it comforts me in a way I wasn't expecting. I lean into the touch before I can stop myself.
"That ends now." His voice carries the weight of absolute certainty. "Victor Kedrov will never touch you or your family again."
I want to believe him. I want it so badly that the hope hurts.
"Tell me about your dreams." The shift in topic catches me off guard, and I look up to find him watching me with genuine interest. "Before all of this. What did you want?"
No one has ever asked me that. Not Jonah, who only cared about how I made him look to his friends. Not my mother, who was too consumed by grief to notice I had ambitions beyond survival. Not anyone.
"Literature." The word comes out soft, almost reverent. "I wanted to work in publishing. I interned at a house in Manhattan during the first year of college. That was before I had to drop out. I spent my weekends reading slush piles and dreaming about discovering the next great fantasy story that would sweep people into another world." I nudge my glasses back into place and feel heat creep into my cheeks. "I wanted to own my own publishing house one day. Help writers tell their stories. Build something that mattered."
Drake's expression shifts, and I see genuine interest kindle in his gray eyes. The attention makes my skin prickle with awareness, makes me feel seen in a way that is both thrilling and terrifying.
"Tell me what happened to kill your dreams."
He already knows the answer, but I answer anyway. "My father died. The debt collectors started calling my workplace. I couldn't keep the job and keep my family safe, so I quit and moved my mom and sister out of state with the very little reserve money I had saved up."
I take a breath and force the next words past the tightness in my throat. "I did what was needed. Found one obscure job after another until I landed at Stacked Pages. That's where I met your brother."
Drake grunts at the mention of Jonah. "He always loved out of the way places with good coffee."
Silence stretches between us, filled with the soft clink of forks against plates and the distant hum of the city beyond the windows. I can feel Drake working toward something, a question building behind his eyes that he's not sure he should ask.
"Go ahead, Drake." I set my fork down and meet his gaze directly. "Ask me what you want to know."
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "Why didn't my brother give you the money you needed to get rid of Victor?"
"I never asked him. Never told him." I shrug, though the motion feels heavier than it should. "I paid my monthly fees and that's it."
"Jonah never did see past his own needs."
"It's not really on him." The defense tastes sour on my tongue, but I say it anyway. "I could have said something. He might have helped. Or he might have told me I needed to sleep with him to get the money, and that would have made me a prostitute." I press my lips together and force myself to hold Drake's gaze. "I laid awake many nights wrestling with that conclusion. I just couldn't do it."
"You would rather owe Victor than have your image tarnished."
"It's all I have left in this world. That and my pride." I adjust my glasses again, a nervous habit I can't seem to break. "My mother says it's going to be my downfall one day. Frankly, it’s one of the few things she's probably right about."
A small smile tugs at the corner of Drake's mouth. "Don't listen to her. It will ultimately set you apart from many at the end of the day. Trust me on that."
The unexpected validation makes my chest ache with gratitude I don't know how to express.
Drake is quiet for a moment, his gray eyes distant as if he's working through something in his mind. Then he refocuses on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"I meant what I said earlier. Victor Kedrov's hold on you ends now. I have a friend watching for any issues. Your family is under my protection. No one touches them."
"Who do you have?"
"A friend of mine. Protection is his whole operation." Drake reaches out and takes a tendril of my hair between his fingers, caressing the smooth tips as he talks. The touch sends warmth cascading through my chest.
