“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on what is obviously a private room.”
He’s shaking his head before I finish speaking. "You can use this room whenever you like. There's nothing in here that is off limits." The small area between his brows creases like he has something else to say but decides to keep his words to himself.
"Thank you, Mr. Moses." I wish I could say more but the day has left my nerve endings frayed and my vast knowledge of language can't muster more than those two words.
He considers me for a moment before continuing like he's made his mind up about something, "During business hours it's Mr.Moses. But after hours and within the walls of our home call me Drake."
Our home?There's no way I can ever consider this my home. That's dangerous thinking. I don't give my thoughts words and just politely offer, "Okay, then." I smile softly.
His gaze caresses the slope of my cheek and travels down the delicate line of my neck before he draws his attention back to my face. "Good. And there's no need to thank me, little rose. This room is yours. It always was."
What?I shift my body to fully face him and want to ask what the heck that means, but his soft expression tells me everything I am afraid to ask.
The kindness in his voice undoes me.
My eyes sting. I look away, desperate to hide the emotion clawing up my throat.
"Most people use libraries for reading," I manage, injecting false lightness into my voice. "Not as leverage against their captives."
"You're not my captive, Katriana."
"The contract says otherwise," I counter.
He steps close enough that I have to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. My ex's older brother stands near enough that his scent wraps around me—sandalwood and whiskey and something darker, something that makes heat pool low in my belly despite every instinct screaming at me to step back.
"The contract," he says slowly, "says you work for me. Live under my protection. That I'll care for your family and keep you safe from men like Victor Kedrov."
"And the maybe or not heir clause?"
Something flickers in those gray eyes. Not cruelty. Something softer that I don't want to name.
"We’re back on that, I see. When it happens,if it happens, it will be your choice, as I stated before." His voice drops to a rumble that vibrates through my chest. "I want a family, Katriana. But I want it with someone who wants it too. And you will. Of that I have no doubt." The first hint of arrogance I’ve seen on the man drifts across his handsome features.
I don't know what to do with this man. With his contradictions. One minute he's a ruthless mafia boss who collects rare books and gives away libraries. The next, he's watching me like I'm something precious instead of something owed.
But I know the truth.
"Why me?" The question escapes before I can stop it. "You could have any woman. Someone who wants to be here. Someone who didn't date your brother and ended up loathing the Moses name." I see no reason to hold back the truth.
His jaw tightens at the mention of Jonah. But when Drake speaks, his voice is steady.
"Because you're the only woman who's ever made me want things I buried a long time ago."
The confession hangs in the firelit air between us, heavy with implications I'm not ready to examine.
I should step back and put distance between us before I do something stupid.
Instead, I stand frozen as he reaches up and cups my face in his hands.
His palms are warm against my cheeks, calloused in a way that speaks of a man who's built empires with those hands. His thumbs stroke along my cheekbones with a tenderness that contradicts everything I expected from him.
"I'm going to kiss you now." His voice is rough, strained with something that makes my thighs clench together. I know this man has cost people their lives and never asks for permission. So his gently spoken words throw me off guard. And then I realize he's giving me a chance to say no. Does he respect me that much?
I should say no. I should remind him that I signed a contract under duress, that I'm still angry, that I don't trust him, that his brother's betrayal is still a raw wound in my chest.
Instead, I hear myself whisper, "Yes, Drake."
His lips brush mine, and the world tilts on its axis.
