Chapter 27 · Collapse of the Trust

The diamond dug into my throat, and I still didn't move.

Marcus had me against the hotel door with his forearm flat across my collarbone. Close enough to count the gray in his jaw. Fifty-four years old, and he still breathed like a man who'd never lost a thing.

“Choose,” he said. “Me, or letting him burn you to the ground.”

“Move the ring before I swallow the setting and make you explain the insurance claim to a surgeon.”

His mouth twitched. Marcus didn't smile. He just stopped looking homicidal for half a second, which from him was basically a sonnet.

“Helena.”

“Neither.” I put my palm flat on his chest and pushed. He gave me an inch. From that man, an inch was a gift. “Those aren't the only two doors. You don't own me this week, and Caspian doesn't get to set me on fire to save himself. I'm your attorney. Sit down and let me work.”

The ring came off my throat. He didn't apologize. He never apologized. He just looked at the red mark it left and dragged his thumb across it once, slow, like he was signing something.

“Three hours,” he said.