Page 73 of Blood Debt
He doesn’t move.
“I want to resign,” I say, the words sharp and clipped.
He tilts his head. There’s no anger in his eyes. Just…calculation. And something I don’t trust.
“You’re fired,” he says.
My brows draw together. “Excuse me?”
“You’re fired,” he repeats casually. “Effective now.”
He takes a step closer. “You’re no longer my maid.”
Another step. “You’re my lover.”
“You can’t do that,” I snap.
He shrugs. “You’ll earn a bigger salary. Better benefits. I take care of my own.”
I blink. Once. Then I laugh—but there’s no joy in it.
“Why would I want a man like you?”
His expression shifts.
“I may be a maid,” I say quietly, “but I still want love. Real love. From a man whose heart is kind, whose hand is gentle. A man who doesn’t strike fear just by entering a room. A man whose hands are clean.”
He doesn’t flinch.
“I’m not that man,” he says. “I’m a con. A killer. That’s my life.”
“And you don’t care about the lives you end?”
“I do what I have to do,” he replies. “So do you.”
My throat tightens.
The words echo, cold and too close.
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it.
“If you had a daughter,” I whisper, “would you look her in the eye and tell her who you are?”
He straightens.
“I don’t have a daughter.”
“But what if you do one day?” I ask. “Will you tell her what you’ve done? Those you’ve hurt?”
He doesn’t speak at first.
Then his jaw tightens.
“She’ll be protected. Loved.”
“And terrified.”
“She would not!” His voice cracks like a whip. “I would raze the world to the ground to protect her. She would be safe, and she would be loved at all costs.”
