<h2 id="id__798_63_" ss="heading_s3gn">AN HOUR EARLIER</h2>


    I’m standing in the frozen section, trying to decide between the low sugar ice cream or a pint of Death by Chocte.


    Considering I almost experienced death by assassination less than twenty-four hours ago, I think I’m entitled to a full-fat, full-sugar treat.


    I’m resigned to drowning my problems in Ben & Jerry’s when something worse than death whispers in my ear.


    “Miss me, sunshine?”


    I know that voice all too well.


    Drew fucking Anton.


    My ex materializes behind me like the ghost I can’t shake, his heavy breathing tickling my skin. I whirl around to face him, my heart jackhammering against my ribs.


    He’s got a ck hoodie pulled low over his white-blonde hair, but it doesn’t hide the brutal purple-blue bruise blooming across the bridge of his nose.


    I take an instinctive step back, my spine hitting the cold ss of the freezer door. “Absence really must make the heart grow fonder. Because every time I see your face, I remember I hate your guts.”


    He clicks his tongue, closing the distance between us. “Now, now. Is that any way to talk to the man who’s here to save your ass?”


    “The only thing my ass needs saving from is this conversation.” I try to slip past him, but he blocks my path with his body. Same game, different day. Drew always did love ying cat and mouse.


    “Does your new sugar daddy know you’re out shopping alone, Sut?” His eyes flick to the store entrance. “Well, almost alone. Uri’s still ying watchdog in the parking lot, right?”


    The casual mention of Oleg’s security detail makes my blood run cold. Drew’s been watching me.


    Of course he has. Some habits die harder than others.


    “What happened to your face?” I ask, deflecting. “Karma finally catch up with you?”


    “Wrong ce, wrong time.” He shrugs, but there’s tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before. “Speaking of wrong ces… you’re in deep shit, sunshine. Deeper than you know.”


    Given the shootoutst night, I think I know just fine the kind of shit I’m in.


    But Drew doesn’t need to know that.


    “Thanks for the warning. I’ll add it to my collection of things I never asked for from you.”


    “Still got that smart mouth.” He reaches out, his fingers brushing my cheek. I jerk away like his touch burns. It does, in a way. It burns with memories I’ve spent a year trying to forget. “I always loved that about you. Even when it pissed me off.”


    “Don’t,” I snarl. “Don’t act like we’re reminiscing about the good old days. There weren’t any.”


    His eyes darken. His hand slides to my wrist, squeezing to sight he’s in danger of cutting off my cirction. “No? What about that night in Vegas? The one where you?—”


    “Finish that sentence and I’ll scream so loud they’ll hear me in Miami.”


    He hesitates, like he might call my bluff. Then he shrugs and rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m heading back to Vegas,” he says, switching tactics. “Thought you might want to know, considering who I’ll be working for.”


    My heart stops.


    Restarts.


    Stops again.


    Paul Lipovsky. The man who owns my sister’s soul.


    “Who would’ve guessed you’d go crawling back to Paul? I’m not sure why you ever left. You were always his favorite pet.”


    Drew’s eyes sh with a violence I remember well. “You know why I left, Sut. You don’t get to walk away from me so easily.”


    “Except I did. And I will.” I dart forward to move past him, but he shoulder-checks me back against the freezer door.


    “Walk away if you want, but I’ll be seeing a lot of your sister.” He hisses the words against my neck. “Might even be able to keep an eye on her. If you’re interested.”


    It’s a promise.


    It’s a threat.


    And just like that, the bastard has me exactly where he wants me.


    I haven’t heard from Sydney since the day she called to ask me about my engagement and I hung up on her. I’ve been too busy to think too much about why she hasn’t reached out again, but silence from her is never a good sign.


    Usually, it means she’s going through it with Paul. I doubt this time is any different.


    “Have you heard from her?” I can’t quite stop myself from asking the question, and I hate myself for it when a smile spreads across Drew’s face.


    That smile used to melt me. Now, I know better.


    It also doesn’t hurt that the full effect is lost in the rapid swelling of his nose. Whoever decked him, I’d like to shake their hand. I wish it had been me.


    Then he reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls out a small, ck phone. A burner. Old school. Untraceable, I’m sure.


    “Take this and I’ll let you know.”


    I stare at the phone like it might bite me. It probably will, in the end.


    “What’s the catch?” I ask, because there’s always a catch with Drew. Always strings attached, always a price to pay.


    He has the audacity to look wounded. “Can’t a guy do his ex a favor?”


    “A guy? Sure. You? Never.”


    “Maybe I’ve changed.”


    “And maybe I’ll sprout wings and fly to the moon.”


    But my eyes keep drifting to the phone. To the lifeline it represents. To Sydney.


    Sweet, beautiful, disaster-ma Sydney.


    My sister, my protector, my constant source of worry.


    Drew is a lot of things—mostly terrible—but he paid attention. He knows all of that. He knows Sydney is my weakness, and he knows that no matter how much I want to walk away from him and this offer…


    … I can’t.


    “If you’re worried about your n to shake down the Beast, don’t be. I won’t tell—as long as you share some of his millions with me.”


    I blink up to him, beyond confused. Mostly because I can’t imagine anyone having the power to “shake down” Oleg Pavlov.


    “Excuse me?”


    “Come on, Sut. The sexy photoshoot that ‘leaked’ to thepany chat, the shotgun engagement… It adds up.”


    “Not to me. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”


    He rolls his eyes. “Don’t bother lying to me. I respect the hustle, babe. I mean, why else would you tie yourself to that scarred monster unless he’s paying you boatloads?”


    Because he’s ten times the man you’ll ever be.


    As much as I want to throw those words in Drew’s face, I don’t. My loyalty to Oleg is just another thing he could use against meter.


    “I don’t need any help from you, Drew. Not now, not ever.”


    Drew dangles the phone between us. “Last chance, sunshine. I’m wheels up to Vegas tonight.”


    My hand twitches at my side. “Why are you really doing this?”


    “Because contrary to what you might think, I did care about you. Still do.” He steps closer, invading my space with the practiced ease of someone who used to own it. “And maybe I don’t like seeing Pavlov’s hands all over what used to be mine.”


    The possessiveness in his voice makes my skin crawl. “I was never yours.”


    “Keep telling yourself that.” He presses the phone into my palm, his fingers lingering against my skin. “But we both know different, don’t we?”


    I snatch my hand back, but I keep the phone. Guilt sits heavy in my stomach like lead.


    Oleg would hate this. Hate that I’m taking anything from Drew. Hate that I’m keeping secrets.


    But Sydney…


    “Weekly updates,” I demand, my voice hard. “And if anything happens to her?—”


    “You’ll be the first to know.” He backs away, that infuriating smirk still ying on his lips. “See you around, sunshine.”


    I watch him disappear down the aisle, the burner phone scorching a hole in my pocket. The weight of it feels like betrayal.


    I should’ve bought the ice cream.


    All of it.


    Something tells me I’m going to need it.