Page 33 of Kane

“I mean…” I shrug. “You don’t have a lot of options, babe. You have no ID, no money, no car, no clothes. You’ve never had a job, I assume.” I hold her gaze. “I’m not judging. You were never given a choice. But that’s the reality. Going it alone…it’s not impossible but…”

“What other choices are there?”

“Go back and obey—marry Jiwan.”

She shakes her head vehemently. “No. That is not an option. Iwill not. No matter what.”

I sigh. “Well, you can contact your parents and make it clear you’re not gonna marry him, but you don’t want to cut them out, either. See how that goes.”

“But…what will I do in the meantime?” she asks, eyes watering. “Where do I go? What do I do? How do I live?”

“You’ve got me.”

She blinks hard. “But how long can I live on your kindness and generosity, Kane? Surely you have your own life, your own job.”

“Yeah, I do. But I can take some time.” I take her hands in mine. “I’m not gonna abandon you.”

“You do not owe me this.”

“No, I don’t.”

“So…why? Why do you take care of me?” She swallows hard. “I can offer you nothing.”

“I’m not asking you for anything.”

“We are alone. We are going to share a bed.” With what appears to be great difficulty, she meets my eyes. “You kissed me.”

“Anjalee.” My voice is stern. “I told you. I don’t expect anything.”

“Expect? Perhaps notexpect.” She lifts her chin, proud, stubborn. “There are things you want, however. I know this much.”

Ah, here we go. I knew we had to broach this topic, at some point. But I wasn’t sure how to angle into it.

I’m still not.

“Anjalee.” I twist to face her, shuffle closer. “Listen to me.”

She shakes her head. “No, Kane. First, you listen to me.”

I let out a breath. “Okay.”

“There is something you must understand about me.” She licks her lips, looking at the mattress between her crossed legs, rubbing her palms on her knees. “I have never…” She struggles for words. I can’t find them for her, can only wait and listen. “Pappa is the only man in my life. Ever. His men, the ones who work for him, they are like…servants, I suppose.”

“I know, Anjalee.” I try to communicate with my eyes what I mean.

She shakes her head, frowning, biting her lower lip. “No, you do not.” She lets out a shaky breath. “When you held my hand, it is the first hand I have ever held. When I rode your motorcycle, it is the closest I have ever come to any man who was not my Pappa. When you kissed me…” She swallows, shaking all over. “It was my first kiss.”

She can’t look at me. Won’t.

I cup her chin. “Anjalee, look at me.” Her big dark eyes slowly lift to mine, shaking, wet, embarrassed, afraid. “Iknow.”

“It was poor.” She jerks her chin away. “The kiss. It was a very poor kiss, for you, I imagine.” She shakes her head again, angry. “Twenty-three years old, and I have never even held a man’s hand. How embarrassing.”

I have to control myself, push need and desire down hard, putting myself on a very tight, very short leash. Even so, my instincts push past my control—I gather her in my arms and pull her into my lap. Her shoulder is against my chest, her head ducked. She’s breathing so hard she’s close to hyperventilating. Fighting tears.

“Anjalee.”

She just shakes her head. “No. Do not lie to me.”