Page 143 of The Kingpin's Call Girl

“What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you money.” I throw the stacks of bills on the couch.

“What the hell? Why?”

“In case something goes wrong.”

“What do you mean, ‘In case something goes wrong’?”

“Exactly what I said.” I pull a backpack from the closet and stuff it full. “Unmarked and un-sequenced. Even so, don’t spend it all in one place, if you get my meaning. There’s also an offshore account in your name at the First Royal Seashield Holdings in Monaco. I’ll text it to you.”

She looks at me in alarm. “They’re going to come after you for impersonating royal blood, aren’t they?”

“I got this.”

“What does ‘I got this’ mean?”

“It means I got this.” I go to her and kiss her. I can’t get enough of her.

“Fuck off,” she whispers into the kiss. “Tellme what it means.”

I carry her to the bedroom and set her on the bed. “Let me help you off with these.” I start unbuckling her belt.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

I kiss her belly. I kiss her mound under the denim. She hisses out a breath, shoving her fingers into my hair. “What was the text?”

I’ve got her belt undone, and I’m undoing her zipper. She helps me, wriggling out of her pants.

I take down her panties. “God, you’re so wet for me.”

“Talk, Luka. You need to tell me things.”

“It was Orton. He wants to meet later on.”

“Did the results come through?”

I kiss the inside of her thigh. Up, up, and up toward her core. Goosebumps flare across her skin. “Presumably. It’s probably why he wants to meet.”

I kiss higher. Higher.

“So... the results. Did he say what they were?”

I press apart her legs. “I think we know what the results are.”

“What the fuck?” She snaps her legs back together and sits up. “You can’t go meet him! You said yourself he’d kill you if you weren’t of true blood, and everybody who knows anything thinks you’re not. Including you.”

“This is my world, Edie. Trust me.”

“You just gave me all your money! Not a good sign!”

“My world, my code,” I growl, pushing her back down on the bed.

She rolls away. “To walk into a meeting where a guy probably wants to kill you? That’s what I call a shitty code!”

She’s wrong. A guy doesn’t want to kill me. It’ll beguys—plural.

This is the choice I made. I protect what’s mine.