That job pays my rent. "It did," he corrected. "Past tense." Her face heated, anger flaring. Oh, I see, right.
So now I'm just what? Some girl you're going to keep in an apartment so you feel big? Am I supposed to sit on your couch, look pretty, and shut up? Something flickered in his expression. Luca, if he'd been in the room, would have warned her.
Don't poke him like that. But Luca wasn't in the room. Marco stood slowly, palms flat on the table, and leaned over until his face was inches from hers. His voice, when he spoke, was low, even, and devastating. "Listen to me very carefully, Lisa."
I am not paying you to be quiet. I am not putting you in some little glass box because you look good in my apartment. I am keeping you alive because I like breathing in a world where you exist. Do you understand me? Everything inside her went still.
He didn't blink. He didn't smirk. He didn't look away. He meant every single word. Her lips parted.
Nothing came out. When she didn't answer, Marco pushed away from the table and straightened his sleeves again, pulling his control back on like a jacket. You'll stay here for a few days. We'll get this handled. We?
She whispered. Yes, he said. Her voice shook. Marco, you keep saying it like I belong to you. His eyes met hers again.
Calm, direct. No apology. "You do." Her breath stuttered. That was too much.
It should have made her push back, scream, run, tell him he was insane. Instead, heat flushed low in her stomach. Marco, she whispered, almost afraid of her own voice. You can't just claim people. "Watch me."
Her heart tripped so hard she had to steady her hand on the table. He watched that. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, like holding himself still took effort. Then, for the first time, his voice softened. "You haven't asked me anything yet."
She blinked. "What do you mean?" "You haven't asked me who I am, he said quietly. What I do. What it means if people see you with me.
Her throat felt dry. "Should I be scared to ask?" "No," he said. "You should be scared not to." Her pulse climbed.
He didn't make her ask. He just told her. I run things in this city that men like Bennett pretend they don't know about, he said calmly. Clubs, money, security, favors. I decide who gets touched and who doesn't.
I decide whose daughter gets to walk home alone and whose daughter gets dragged into a car. I don't allow certain business. I don't tolerate certain behavior. Men like Bennett call me a criminal in public and ask me for help in private. Lisa stared at him.