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Nestor paid off my mother’s medical debts and every single one of the debts my father dumped onto me.

But the amount—the money I owed—was more than I could have earned in nine years. I know because I did the calculation so many times, it’s embedded in my brain.

Nine years.

Working three steady jobs and extra odd jobs and staying in that shithole apartment and hardly eating anything. Being hounded day after day by debt collectors and living a stressed, lonely life because I wouldn’t have time for friends or anything but work.

Nine years and suddenly it’s all cleared.Everything.

My body spins through a series of emotions. Changing from shock, to confusion, to anger, back to shock—the overwhelming chaos inside me. I toss the blankets off and slide out of bed with my new phone gripped tightly in my hands. I storm straight to Nestor’s bedroom, knocking loudly on the door once before bursting into the room.

“How did you do it?” I demand.

Nestor is standing next to his bed wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, and for a moment, I’m just staring at things I should not be staring at.

“How did I do what, Lara?” he asks calmly.

I tear my eyes off his package and back up to his face.

“Um. How. How did you—um. The debts. How did you know who they were with? How did you get access to my mom’s medical debts? How did you know the right people to contact toget in touch with the debt collectors? I know what kind of people they are—"

“Lara, what does it matter? The debts are paid,” he shrugs.

“Why was Charlie so scared of you, Nestor?”

That is honestly the only question I need him to answer. That question would probably answer all of my other questions at the same time.

Nestor smiles tightly.

I stare at him, waiting for him to give me something that will ease my worry about who he is. My mind is screaming that I should be grateful that I no longer have to worry about the debt—that I am free of those collectors—but another part of me is worried about who I am in debt to now. Who I promised to live with them as part of the agreement. Did I sell myself the same way my father sold me for money? Did I do the same thing to myself?

“You should just be happy that you don’t have to worry anymore. And you don’t have to live in that dangerous neighborhood. Okay?” he says gently, walking towards me.

He reaches out and touches my cheek.

In that moment, I become very aware that I’m only wearing a very short pair of silk boxers and a cropped silk top. Oh my word. I was in bed. I wasn’t planning on being seen by anyone dressed like this.

My eyes trace over his toned torso, and I bite down, clenching my jaw and trying to focus.

“You’re right,” I stammer, stepping away from him. “Um. Thank you.” I take another step back, and his hazel eyes watch me as I walk backwards until I am out of his room. “Goodnight,”I murmur hurriedly before running down the passage back to the privacy of my own bedroom.

Chapter 9 - Nestor

Lara’s questions are still bothering me the day after she asked them.

She wants to know who I am.

I’ve been toying with the idea of telling her the truth, but I don’t think she will take it well if she finds out I am the leader, the boss, of a complex crime syndicate running theentirecity of San Francisco.

She probably won’t enjoy hearing that she is living with someone in charge of the Russian mafia in this city.

I remind myself that she isn’t even aware of her father’s bratva connections. He’s obviously hidden it from her.

Finding out from me would be a complete shock.

Totally unexpected.

I don’t think she’s ready for it.