Chapter 33 · Bayanihan Shift

"Don't sell that." Jae's grip stayed locked around my wrist, thumb pressed hard against the bone. "Say it back to me. In English. Tell me you didn't hear a word."

"Let go of me first." I twisted, and his hand tightened instead of loosening.

"Answer me, Lila."

"You want an answer, stop crushing my wrist like I'm a suitcase."

That got him. He dropped my hand like it burned him, but he didn't step back. The service corridor behind the kitchen was barely wide enough for a laundry cart, and he filled the rest of it, close enough that I could smell coffee and something sharp underneath, cologne gone stale from a twelve-hour shift.

"Fifteen million dollars," he said, low. "That's what walks out the door if the word gets to Whitfield before Friday. You understand what that means for people like you?"

"People like me." I laughed, and it came out uglier than I meant it. "You mean people who make your bed and hear you talking business in the hallway like the walls don't exist? Yeah.