Page 86 of The Bratva King

“Those are things I can provide.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point, Gabby?”

She works her jaw while she chooses her words. “The point is that I need to be able to take care of myself and my son without relying on someone else. I’ve already told you that I’ve done the dependent thing before, and I know how it ends.”

“I’m not him.”

Her eyes flash. “Who?”

“Whoever made you feel like you can’t accept kindness.”

I see her chest heave. She’s struggling to accept the facts of her life. She needs me.

“I can’t.” Her voice is filled with fear.

“You can. You’re choosing not to.”

She makes a sound of frustration. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m practical. Luke needs stability. He’s settling in here. He likes his routine. Kylie understands him. You have a job. You have support.” I stand and move closer to her. “What are you going to find out there that’s better than what’s here?”

She looks up at me. I see her wavering.

“This isn’t a prison,” I say quietly. “I’m not demanding you be my sex slave.” I pause, searching for the right words. “I don’t want or expect anything from you that you don’t want to give. Last night happened because we both wanted it to happen. If it happens again, same reason. If it doesn’t, that’s fine, too.”

“You’re doing this for Luke,” she says.

“For both of you.”

She looks away. “I need to pay rent.”

“Yes, you do. Five dollars a month. Non-negotiable. Utilities included.”

“Nik.”

Fuck. I like when she calls me that. It’s so… intimate.

“Take it or leave it.”

She glares at me. “Cazzo.”

She’s cursing in Italian. That’s new information. Or maybe it’s not new. Maybe I just haven’t been paying attention.

Instead of acknowledging it, I step closer. Close enough that she has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.

“Is that a yes?” I ask. Then I narrow my eyes. “And since when do you speak Italian?”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I’ve been told.”

She’s breathing faster now. I can see her pulse jumping in her throat. I lean down and kiss her. Not like last night. A quiet reminder. A promise, maybe.

When I pull back, her eyes are still closed.

“Oh,” I say, remembering. “There’s something I meant to give you.”