Chapter 18 · Desk Rules

The edge of his heavy mahogany desk bit into the backs of my thighs. Wet silk slapped freezing against my skin.

"Code," Dante said.

He didn't yell. That was the worst part.

Rain still dripped off the sharp angle of his jaw, hitting my collarbone one icy drop at a time. His thumb hooked under my chin, holding my head tilted up like he owned every breath I took.

"Go to hell."

"Already there, sweetheart." His thumb dragged across my split lower lip. It stung viciously. My breath hitched, and I wanted to kill him for hearing it. "Your mother's vault. The cipher. Say it out loud."

My wrists burned raw where his goons had zip-tied me out on the pier. He'd cut the plastic himself in the hallway with a switchblade he didn't even need to draw, then hauled me up four flights of stairs over his shoulder like dirty laundry while I clawed the hell out of his neck.

Three angry red tracks sat above his collar right now, still leaking blood. He hadn't bothered to wipe them.

"You want the Moretti money," I rasped, glaring straight into his dark eyes. "Fine.