The work on the desk in my study at home barely had my attention. My thoughts were divided between the peace of the past four weeks, and Riley.

Always Riley.

The growing tension between us, the words that we’d said, the fact that every night I came home late and she was there. Waiting for me. She’d make dinner for me too, even though I’d insisted it wasn’t necessary, and then after… we’d have the best fucking dessert imaginable.

“Shit,” I said, and switched off my PC, put my hands behind my head. I’d already told her she was the one, but I was still hesitant. She wasn’t ready. Carly needed a stable home, and I couldn’t provide it for her by springing the surprise nanny relationship on her.

I had no idea how she’d react. She hadn’t seen her mother since before she could properly remember her, and what if Riley decided that it was too much for her? She’d walk out, and Carly would be the collateral damage.

We had to be responsible adults about this.

My cellphone buzzed on the desk, and I lifted it, shaking my head slightly to clear it of Riley and all the shit.

“This is Rome.”

“Roman.” The voice that traveled down the line brought back the rage from four weeks ago.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“It’s nice to hear from you too, Roman,” Marcus said, laughter in his tone. “It’s been too long.”

“Not long enough.” I lifted my thumb and moved it toward the red phone icon. Fuck, I’d known this shit was too good to be true. Ten million down, and the fucker hadn’t backed off after all. “What do you want?”

“I think you know what I want.”

“Spit it out, shitbag.”

Marcus chuckled again. “Oh come on, you didn’t think you could keep her to yourself forever, did you? You know, Riley is mine. She’s always been mine. I know you’ve enjoyed keeping that pussy warm for me, but now, your time is up, and I want her back.”

“Fuck you. Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Or what, buddy, you gonna call the cops?” Marcus inhaled, likely toking. “So, I’ve been thinking about this long and hard, see, and I don’t like the fact that you stole her right out from under me. You paid your debt, but you made another one when you decided to start fucking my girl. You know, that’s an unforgiveable offense. You gotta pay blood for that.”

I didn’t reply, let him talk it out, because clearly that was what he wanted to do. He wanted to threaten and cajole and fucking enjoy himself. This was bullshit. He wouldn’t touch her on my watch.

“You gotta pay, or she’s gotta pay. So it’s your choice. Give her up to me and let me deal with her, or you can lose everything you love. Including that sweet little girl of yours. Carly.”

“Threaten my daughter again, and I will hunt you the fuck down and kill you, understand? I will fucking kill you.”

“That’s cute. The decision’s yours. You have until the end of the week to make that decision. Riley or you or your daughter. Fuck it, I’ll kill all three of you if I have to.”

“Motherfu—” The line went dead, and I swore again, clutched the phone, hefted it, and threw it against the wall. The back cover split off it, the battery flew in one direction, the phone’s casing in another. “Goddam it.”

I’d known this would happen from the start. That paying this dick would only lead to him coming back for more. That was how men like him operated. He had no honor, no integrity. Calling in old debts was fine, but going back on that debt? Abhorrent, something Griphon would never have done. Not that the old president had been a saint.

This couldn’t happen.

If I paid him off again, he wouldn’t go away. If I gave him Riley… Gave him Riley? Like she’s a package? Like she’s a thing? The very concept brought heat to my veins and iron to my spine.

Ending this would have nothing to do with money and everything to do with power.

I pushed out of my chair and walked over to the phone, picked it up, put it back together. I switched it on again, and waited a minute, kept a tight rein on my emotions. I dialed the number, pressed the phone to my ear and exhaled.

“Changed your mind already?” Marcus asked, a smile in his voice.

“How much do you want?”

“How much?” He cackled at the question. “I don’t want money, asshole. I want the girl. She belongs to me.”

I gritted my teeth. “I want to meet to talk about this,” I said, and let a little of my frustration through. “Come to my—”

“I’m not going anywhere. You want to talk about the deal, you’ll meet me on my turf.” Marcus sniffed. “Trent Street Warehouse, tomorrow night, eight o’clock. You come to see me, and we’ll talk about how much Riley is worth to you.”

“I thought you wouldn’t accept money.”

“I won’t,” Marcus replied then hung up.

Fuck, it itched having to talk to him, even if it was for a grand double-cross. I pulled the phone from my ear and switched through to my contacts, scrolled down until I found Clint’s number. Clint and I went way back—he’d been the officer who’d arrested me, shortly after Janine had left, and the guy who’d helped set me straight.

I hit dial and waited through the three rings. “Roman?”

“Clint,” I replied. “I need to talk to you about something important. Are you alone?”

“Give me a second,” he said, and muted footsteps came through on the phone. A door clicked shut on the other side, and the rush of voices cut out. “All right, Roman, what do you got for me?”