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“Because,” I pause to let out a heavy breath. “I want to see what you look like when you finally realize that nothing you do matters. That your morality is just a pretty cage you built for yourself. And when those walls come down, Sophia—and they will—I want to be there.”

“I hate him,” I grouse to my empty kitchen as I set my Thai takeout on the counter, unable to stop thinking about standing toe-to-toe with the devil in a Tom Ford suit a few hours ago. Gripping the edge of the counter, an annoyed grumble rattles from my lungs as I stare back at my reflection in the microwave’s door.

The confrontation plays on loop in my head: Vance’s voice both soft as velvet and sharp as a knife, while I stood there like an idiot, thinking my moral outrage mattered to men who built an empire on broken bones. I know I did the right thing. Someone had to say something. Yet, I feel like I’ve painted a target on my back.

My phone buzzes against the counter, Kierra’s sweet face lighting up the screen. “Hey, Kiki,” I answer on speakerphone, forcing cheer into my voice. “I was just about to call you. How’s my favorite college freshman?” My little sister is my whole world. She’s the reason I had accepted the position at The Ashford Group shortly after our parents died, chasing every promotion I could to keep a roof over her head and a future in front of her.

“Please, Soph. Like you know a lot of college freshmen!” Her voice bursts through the speaker, bright and bubbly. “How was your big meeting? Did you get the promotion?”

I close my eyes and lean on the counter. The promotion. The VP position Roman Ashford has been grooming me for, hinting at, and dangling like a carrot for the past year. The meeting. A no-show that put me in a room with the Ashford brothers instead of Roman.

“It was…” I shrug out of my blazer, draping it over a kitchen chair as I carefully chose my next words. “Ya know what? We can talk about it later. Tell me about you. How is the dorm? Are you still getting along with your roommate?”

“Harper’s amazing. She bought an espresso machine. A Breville. Her parents are loaded, or something.” Kierra laughs, and I can hear the happiness in her voice almost as clearly as I can picture her in a Crestwood sweatshirt, sprawled across the twin bed in her dorm. “And she apparently has an in to pledge with Alpha Chi Delta.”

“That’s great, Kiki.” I pop the lid on my drunken noodles and rummage blindly in the drawer for a fork. “You’re not going to overload yourself, are you? A sorority and classes?”

“Nah. I’m managing. And classes aren’t that bad. My bio professor is kinda cute, actually. Older, like forty-something, but distinguished. Real silver-fox energy.”

“Kierra!” While I try to make myself sound stern, I smile despite myself. “You’re there to study, not flirt. And definitely not with your professor. Or any professor, for that matter.”

“Fine.” She sighs. “No hot professors. But one of us has to date. And we both know that’s not you.”

The grin fades from my face. I open my mouth to deflect with a lame joke about being married to my career, but the truth lodges in my throat. Kiki… I don’t date because I can’t afford the distraction. Unexpectedly raising a teenager while climbing the corporate ladder doesn’t leave a lot of room for dinners and romance.

“Soph?” Kierra’s voice softens as though she can sense the shift in my mood. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean⁠—”

“I know you didn’t. I’m fine,” I lie before taking a bite of my noodles. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Yeah, a long day surrounded by hot, tattooed, eligible bachelors,” she teases lightheartedly.

I freeze with my fork halfway to my mouth. “How do you know about the men I work for?”

“I needed your work address for some medical form, so I Googled it. They are kind of terrifying. Like, legitimately, terrifying. There are articles about them, too. Rumors about all of them.”

“Rumors are just rumors,” I remind, but it sounds hollow even as it echoes through my own ears.

“They’re hot, though,” Kierra continues, oblivious to the way my stomach drops. “In a villainous, convict kind of way. Like, if you had to be kidnapped, you’d want it to be by one of them.”

“Kierra! No more romance books for you. Stick to textbooks.”

“I’m just saying.” She giggles. “They’re all single, apparently. No kids. Never married. It’s either the hottest set of gay brothers or a bunch of deeply damaged men. See? Psych is paying off already.”

Deeply damaged.

I laugh, pinching the bridge of my nose and laughing at her. “They’re…” I stop. “They’re my bosses,” I say finally. My thoughts drift unwillingly toward Vance towering over me, his eyes falling to my lips as the rich tobacco of his cologne flooded my nostrils. “He’s dangerous. Don’t romanticize him, Kiki. Them,” I correct myself. “Don’t romanticize any of them.”

“You’re no fun,” she teases.

“I’m loads of fun!”

There’s a pause on the line, filled with distant sounds of her dormitory. The exciting clatter of young life is a sharp contrast to my empty apartment and takeout-for-one being eaten over the kitchen sink.

Yes… Loads of fun.

I look around my kitchen—the cracked tile beneath my feet, the dripping faucet, and the stack of bills on the counter I can’t quite afford to pay despite my position at The Ashford Group. On top of that, the $40,000 tuition bill is due by the end of the month. Even if I find a way to pay it, another $60,000 will be due for the spring semester. Mom and Dad’s meager life insurance ran out about a year ago. Rent for this less-than-lavish apartment eats away half my salary.

“Tell me more about your classes. About everything going on with you.”