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The dryer cycle was finished.

I dropped my hand and stepped back, my heart thrumming faster than it should’ve. “I can get?—”

I was interrupted by a knock on the front door. My brow furrowed. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I’d lived in the city long enough to be wary of unannounced visitors.

However, Vuk’s presence made me braver than I would’ve been otherwise, so I checked to see who was at the door while he fetched his shirt.

My stomach bottomed out when I peeked through the peephole.

Slicked-back hair. Tanned skin. A shiny Rolex on his wrist.

What the fuck? When did my agent start making house calls?

I debated leaving him in the hall and pretending I wasn’t home, but that would only put off the inevitable. It was better to rip off the Band-Aid and get this over with.

I steeled myself and opened the door. “Hank. What are you doing here?”

I didn’t have it in me to feign politeness. My home was my sanctuary, and I did not appreciate him ruining it.

For once, he didn’t insult me with fake platitudes about how he was checking in on me because he wassoconcerned about my well-being, but his unsmiling face sent a cold sensation crawling down my throat. “We need to talk.”

CHAPTER14

Vuk

While Ayana answered the door, I went to the dryer and retrieved my shirt. I pulled it over my head, my mind seething with the mistakes I’d made today.

Offering Ayana a ride. Agreeing to come upstairs. Telling her about my past with Jordan. Fuckinglaughing.

All perilous missteps that drew me closer to her orbit when I should’ve been keeping my distance.

I’d sold her a half-truth about the Brotherhood and what I needed Jordan’s money for, but if she’d asked me for details, I might’ve told her—not everything, but enough that she would look at me the way other people did. Like I was a monster in a man’s clothing.

In her eyes, I was a better man than I would ever be, and I was too selfish and masochistic to disavow her of that notion.

If I couldn’t have all of her, then I’d hoard the piece of her that still offered me a glimpse of hope for redemption.

The low murmur of voices from the entryway intruded into my thoughts. One male, one female.

Ayana and who? Jordan? An overly friendly neighbor? Who the fuck was visiting her in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon?

The possibilities dug under my skin.

I shut the dryer door and headed into the living room. Ayana’s back faced me, but I spotted the tension pouring off her body from a dozen feet away.

“I went there to consult on something for the wedding. That’s all,” she said. An edge ran beneath her calm tone.

“I see.” The oily response made my molars slam together.Hank fucking Carson.I’d recognize his sleazy voice anywhere. “I find that interesting, considering Brown, Kermit & Wells specializes in business contracts. Specifically, breaking them.”

“Marriage is a contract, and it’s certainly business for quite a large number of people.” Ayana’s voice chilled another degree. “I love Jordan, but I would be foolish not to protect myself.”

I love Jordan.

A vicious pressure swelled in my throat. I forced it down, but the toxic green residue lingered like a stain that refused to fade.

“That’s good to hear.” Hank’s tone smoothed enough to hide most, if not all, of his skepticism. “I simply wanted to check in and make sure we were on the same page. Emmanuelle would be upset if she heard you were planning to leave.”

I’d heard enough.