"Yes." I adjust my glasses and feel heat creep into my cheeks. "It sounds naive when I say it out loud."
"It sounds like you have a purpose." He leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "That's rare. Most people stumble through life without any idea what they're working toward. You know exactly what you want."
"Knowing and having are different things."
"They don't have to be."
The statement hangs between us, heavy with implications I'm not ready to examine. I look away first, reaching for my water glass to buy myself time.
I take a sip and set the glass down, but I'm careless in my distraction. A drop of the carbonara cream clings to the corner of my mouth, and before I can reach for my napkin, Drake leans in.
His thumb sweeps across the corner of my lip, slow and deliberate. The touch is featherlight, but it burns through me like a brand. My lips part on a soft gasp, and his gray eyes darken as he watches the reaction ripple across my face.
He brings his thumb to his own mouth and licks the cream away, never breaking eye contact.
"Delicious," he murmurs, and I know he's not talking about the pasta.
I forget how to breathe. Forget my own name. Forget everything except the heat pooling between my thighs and the thundering of my pulse in my ears.
"Tell me about your father." Drake's voice softens with the question, giving me a moment to collect myself. "You mentioned him before. That he was the reason for the debt."
The familiar ache blooms in my chest, grief and love and anger all tangled together in ways I've never been able to separate. "I loved him. God, I loved him so much. He was funny and warm and he used to read to me every night before bed, doing all the voices until I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe."
I pause, swallowing against the tightness in my throat.
"But he had a darkness in him. A part of himself he never shared with anyone, not even my mother. The gambling started small. Poker nights with friends. Weekend trips to the casino. By the time we realized how bad it had gotten, he was already drowning."
"And then he died."
"Heart attack." The words come out flat, drained of the emotion I've spent years trying to bury. "I found him in his study, surrounded by betting slips and loan documents. He was already gone. And three days later, Victor Kedrov showed up at our door. I was the only one home at the time. He promised to keep the debt between us if he could double the interest rate.” I shrug. “Atthe time I didn't care what he did as long as he didn’t add more weight to my mother’s shoulders.”
Drake's jaw tightens. "Did he hurt you that day?"
"He wanted to make sure we understood the situation." I trace my finger along the edge of the takeout container, unable to meet Drake's eyes. "He grabbed me by the hair and threw me against the wall. When I tried to fight him, he..." I shake my head. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that he made it very clear what would happen if I didn't pay. I've been paying ever since."
The rage in Drake’s eyes is heartstopping. I can practically see the gears in his head turning with ideas of retribution.
"Not anymore, Katriana. He’ll never touch you again."
The finality in his voice makes my chest ache with hope I'm afraid to feel.
"Tell me about you," I say, desperate to shift the attention away from my wounds. "How did you end up here? Running an empire and granting wishes for desperate women who wander into your nightclub?"
Drake's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I started at the docks. Sixteen years old, lying about my age to get work unloading cargo. My father wasn't around much and my mother was sick. Someone had to keep the lights on."
"You took care of your family."
"I did what was necessary. It’s something we share in common."
“Agreed,” I add with a smile.
He picks up his chopsticks and pushes a piece of fish around his container. "The docks taught me how the world really works. Who has power and who doesn't. How money flows through a city like blood through veins. I learned which palms to grease and which threats to take seriously."
"And Rafael?"
"We met when I was in my twenties. He was building something, and he needed people he could trust. People who understood loyalty." Drake's expression softens with memory. "He gave me a purpose beyond survival. A family beyond blood. Everything I have, I owe to him."
"But you're not his employee."
