Chapter 8 - NOT FOR MONEY
Narin stared down at the check in her hand, her eyes widening in genuine shock.
“This is too much,” she whispered, looking back up at him. “Our agreement was four thousand for one week.”
“Four thousand was for sweeping floors and polishing brass,” Declan said quietly, his gaze locked onto hers. “Fifty thousand is for saving my life when every other coward in my employment fled for the hills.”
Narin stood silent, holding the slip of paper between her fingers.
Fifty thousand dollars meant her debt was completely erased. It meant her rent was paid for two full years. It meant she could walk out of this high-rise penthouse right now, take a taxi back to her apartment, and never have to see another gun, another drop of blood, or another violent criminal for as long as she lived.
She was free.
Declan watched her closely, his expression guarded, his jaw set in a rigid line. He was waiting for her to leave. He was expecting it. In his world, everyone had a price, and once that price was paid, they vanished into the night.
Slowly, deliberate in every movement, Narin set the check back down on the corner of his desk.
Declan’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m staying,” Narin said plainly.
Declan’s face hardened. “Narin, you have the money. You’re clear. You don't owe me anything. Go home where it’s safe.”
“I don't stay because I owe you, Mr. Graham,” Narin said, her voice softer now, yet carrying an unshakeable weight. “And I’m certainly not staying out of pity.”
Declan went utterly motionless. “Then why?”
Narin stepped closer to his chair, looking down into the dark, stormy eyes of the man who had tried so desperately to push the entire world away so no one could see his weakness.
“Because you’re a terrible boss,” she said, a faint, rare smile touching her lips. “And if I leave, you’ll hire some poor girl who won't know how to handle you when you throw your whiskey glasses at the wall.”
Declan stared at her, his lips parting slightly in pure amazement.
Slowly, his hand reached out, his long fingers wrapping gently around her wrist—not with the violent, commanding grip of a crime boss, but with a quiet, desperate warmth.
“Narin...” he murmured, his voice thick with unexpressed emotion.
“I’m staying until the job is done, Declan,” she said softly, using his first name for the very first time.
May you like
He closed his eyes for a second, letting out a long, ragged breath, his thumb gently caressing the warm skin of her inner wrist.
“Then God help the Rossy family,” he whispered.
