That, "I know." Her eyes burned. She blinked fast, furious at herself. Great. So, I'm violent diner trash now in front of the whole internet.
Marco's voice dropped. "You're not trash." She forced out a laugh. "Yeah? Tell that to the comment section."
"I don't care about the comment section." "I do," she snapped louder than she meant to. She swallowed and dropped her voice. That's my face. That's my job.
That's my life. You walk into places and people shut up. People don't do that for me. I don't get to just exist in the background anymore. You understand that, right?
You lit up a spotlight on me. Something dark flickered in his eyes. Not anger at her. Anger at himself. He nodded once.
"You're right." She blinked. She hadn't expected him to agree. He leaned back in his chair and said in that same quiet, controlled voice, "Then we adjust." Her breath caught.
"Adjust how?" "You're not going back to the diner." Her heart lurched. "What?" It's not safe, he said.
Then it's not done. He'll either try to scare you again or pay you to lie or set you up to look like you're unstable so nobody believes you. I'm not letting you walk into that. Her pulse hammered. "You can't just tell me to quit my job."
That job pays my rent. "It did," he corrected. "Past tense." Her face heated, anger flaring. Oh, I see, right.
So now I'm just what? Some girl you're going to keep in an apartment so you feel big? Am I supposed to sit on your couch, look pretty, and shut up? Something flickered in his expression. Luca, if he'd been in the room, would have warned her.
Don't poke him like that. But Luca wasn't in the room. Marco stood slowly, palms flat on the table, and leaned over until his face was inches from hers. His voice, when he spoke, was low, even, and devastating. "Listen to me very carefully, Lisa."
I am not paying you to be quiet. I am not putting you in some little glass box because you look good in my apartment. I am keeping you alive because I like breathing in a world where you exist. Do you understand me? Everything inside her went still.
He didn't blink. He didn't smirk. He didn't look away. He meant every single word. Her lips parted.
Nothing came out. When she didn't answer, Marco pushed away from the table and straightened his sleeves again, pulling his control back on like a jacket. You'll stay here for a few days. We'll get this handled. We?
She whispered. Yes, he said. Her voice shook. Marco, you keep saying it like I belong to you. His eyes met hers again.
Calm, direct. No apology. "You do." Her breath stuttered. That was too much.
It should have made her push back, scream, run, tell him he was insane. Instead, heat flushed low in her stomach. Marco, she whispered, almost afraid of her own voice. You can't just claim people. "Watch me."
Her heart tripped so hard she had to steady her hand on the table. He watched that. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, like holding himself still took effort. Then, for the first time, his voice softened. "You haven't asked me anything yet."
She blinked. "What do you mean?" "You haven't asked me who I am, he said quietly. What I do. What it means if people see you with me.
Her throat felt dry. "Should I be scared to ask?" "No," he said. "You should be scared not to." Her pulse climbed.
He didn't make her ask. He just told her. I run things in this city that men like Bennett pretend they don't know about, he said calmly. Clubs, money, security, favors. I decide who gets touched and who doesn't.
I decide whose daughter gets to walk home alone and whose daughter gets dragged into a car. I don't allow certain business. I don't tolerate certain behavior. Men like Bennett call me a criminal in public and ask me for help in private. Lisa stared at him.
You think I don't know what his daughter's been doing? Marco continued. You think I haven't seen the videos? Olivia and her friends record service girls, humiliate them, get them drunk for sport, live stream them crying. Your face isn't the first one they've posted.
It's just the first one anybody cared about because I was standing in the frame. Her stomach twisted. "They've done this before?" "More than once, he said. You weren't their first target.
You were just the first one who had someone to stand up and say, ""No."" She felt sick, angry, hot, humiliated, grateful, all at once. She swallowed. So, that's why Bennett's coming after me. He's not defending his daughter's honor, Marco said. He's covering his campaign.
He slid another page toward her. This one a printout of some political headline with Bennett's face beside words like family values and protecting our girls. Lisa let out a humorless laugh. That's disgusting. That's politics, Marco said.
Disgusting is the brand. She looked up at him, feeling small and furious and strangely steady at the same time. "And what are you?" He held her gaze for a long beat. "Honest," he said.
It wasn't the answer she expected. It was better. She sucked in a slow breath. "And what am I to you?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Something shifted in his eyes. Not softer. Deeper. He stepped closer. Not touching, but so close she felt the warmth of him.
You, he said quietly, "Are something I don't let people ruin." Her heart pounded so hard it almost hurt. Something about the way he said it. Not you're pretty. Not I feel bad for you.
Not I'm a good guy, see. Went under her ribs and stayed there. Lisa swallowed. "Marco." He leaned down just enough that his breath brushed her cheek.
From now on, you sleep where I know you're safe. You eat. You don't lie for anyone. You don't apologize for existing. You let me handle anything that comes through that door.
That's the deal. Her voice broke. "And if I say no?" He didn't smile. He didn't back off.