“I didn’t volunteer to be an option.”
“No. But you became one nonetheless.”
“Charming.”
“I need Leon comfortable, unguarded,” he says. “He believes I bought a woman from his auction and left before the FBI ruined the night. He doesn’t know you are FBI. He doesn’t know how much I know. And as of right now, he does not know the children are in my possession.”
“Your possession.”
“Fine. They are under my protection, if that helps you sleep.”
He reaches the other side of the desk and rests both hands on the edge. The position should feel casual. But nothing about him feels casual. Even at rest, he looks like a viper waiting to become violent.
“I can give you what you want,” he says.
“You have no idea what I want.”
“I know exactly what you want. Erin. Heath. Leon brought to his knees, breathing long enough for your system to call justice.”
My hands curl at my sides. “And what does your option entail, Stefano?”
He reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and sets something on the desk between us, face up.
The photograph.
Erin, missing a front tooth. Heath's arm around her shoulders. Alice's handwriting waiting on the back.
My lungs forget their job.
"My people found it sewn into the lining of your dress," Stefano says. "An agent who carries nothing carries that. So yes, Maya. I know exactly what you want."
I want to lunge across the desk. I want to tell him he has no right to touch it, that his men had no right to cut it out of the fabric like evidence. Instead, I pick it up with steady fingers, because he's watching to see whether my hands shake, and slide it into the pocket of the robe.
"That wasn't leverage," I say. "That was theft."
“Five days, that’s all I need.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. “Five days?”
He takes one step, stalking slowly as he speaks. “You’ll play the woman I bought. You’ll stay at my side in public, smile when required, look frightened when useful, and let Leon believe the auction went well enough for me that I am open to further business.”
“No.”
He takes another step, ignoring my objection as he continues. “You will behave like a perfect, naive little doll who has learned quickly that pleasing me is safer than testing me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You haven’t heard what you get in return.”
“I heard enough around perfect, naive little doll.”
His gaze drops over me once, slow enough to be deliberate, not crude enough to dismiss. “I doubt anyone has ever mistaken you for perfect or naive.”
“That was almost a compliment.”
“It was entirely a compliment.”
“You’re bad at them.” My feet don’t move as he stalks closer.
