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I arced a brow, the alcohol giving me courage. “Why do you care?”
His gaze narrowed. “I thought we were past that.”
“You keep forgetting that you kidnapped me,” I said.
His forehead creased. “I didn’t kidnap you, I borrowed you. Accidentally.”
My drink was halfway gone. He’d barely touched his, he was just holding it on the counter.
“So put me back,” I said, but I didn’t sound very convincing.
He shook his head. “I set out on this business trip with the intent to secure that shipment. I’ll bring you home once I have what I need. I have to do my job before I do you.”
“Do me?”
“I meant, bring you home.”
I leaned forward, letting him see the line of my cleavage. His eyes flicked down and his lips parted.
“Really? Because you look like you want to do me,” I whispered.
He raised his glass, watching me over it. “Are you teasing me with the intent of letting me fuck you?”
I shook my head. “I told you I wouldn’t fuck you.”
“You must not be very afraid of me, princess,” he said. “You’ve refused me more than once and you’re confident I won’t overstep.”
My stomach flipped. “Overstep?”
He cocked his head. “You know I won’t touch you without consent.”
My throat was dry. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but it wasn’t the raw emotion in his dark gaze.
“Who kept you from becoming a monster?” I murmured.
He took his wallet out and flipped it open, handing it to me. Gingerly, I turned over the worn leather to reveal a photograph of a tired woman in her thirties. She was pretty, but there was something so haunted in her eyes it sent a shiver down my spine.
His mother.
She looked like she wanted to die. My stomach felt like ice. A slow realization settled over me and my lashes went wet. When I looked up at him, his face was unreadable.
“You feel guilty too,” I whispered.
He winced. “Sometimes.”
“You were a child when she died,” I said. “Right?”
He shrugged. “I was a minor, yes.”
“What did she die of?”
He cleared his throat. “She had an official diagnoses, but that was just the final straw. She died of abuse and neglect. She just broke and stopped wanting to be alive. No one ever came to save her.”
I folded the wallet and handed it back to him.
“I’m really sorry, Duran,” I said. “You should consider seeing a therapist because you aren’t in any way responsible for what happened.”
His brows shot up. “A therapist?”
