Page 87 of Cruel Demands

“Taylor.”

I fold my arms. “You seem to think you have a lot of say over who gets to touch me.”

“I’m looking out for you.”

I actually laugh. “By monitoring which men put their hands on me?”

“By recognizing that you do not always make good decisions.”

My smile disappears. “Excuse me?”

“You are twenty years old, alone in another country, and you behave as though consequences are things that happen to other people.”

“That is unbelievably patronizing.”

“You send money home when you can barely afford your own expenses.”

For a second, I just stare at him. The argument disappears. So does the room. “What?” Mikhail goes still. “How do you know that?” He says nothing. My stomach turns cold. “How do you know I sent money home?”

“Taylor—”

“No.” I shake my head. “I sent my parents two hundred dollars. Three weeks ago. How do you know that?” His eyes remain fixed on mine. I feel suddenly exposed in a way that has nothing to do with the distance between our bodies. “Did you investigate me?”

“I had you vetted.”

“That is not vetting.”

“I am responsible for the people who work around me.”

“You know my bank account.”

“I know enough to recognize when someone is putting herself in a vulnerable position.”

I stare at him. “You went through my finances because you were looking out for me?”

“I did not say I went through them personally.”

“Oh, that makes it so much better.”

His mouth tightens. “I am trying to keep you from becoming vulnerable to people who might take advantage of you.”

“Like who?”

“Anyone.”

“Men at bars?”

“If necessary.”

“Coworkers?”

His eyes harden.

I almost laugh again. “Dima?”

“This is not about Dima.”

“It is absolutely about Dima.”