“It’s temporary,” I say a little too quickly, yanking my hand from hers. I don’t want to sound defensive, but I hate that she knows. It’s humiliating.
She clears her throat and places her palms neatly onto her lap. “I also know that you were in deep shit with the Sidorov family. You borrowed money.” She repositions her body so she can stare at me directly in the eyes. “What I don’t know is how you paid them back. Because last I heard, you were no longer in debt to them or on their radar. Details?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t pay the loan back,” I answer, not lying since I’m not sure it actually is paid back. I’m still alive, and I haven’t seen any of the Russians come for me, but how it all seemed to quiet down, I’m not really sure. I’ve been waiting for them.
Sasha tilts her head and sighs. “Come on, Lyriope. Be honest with me. Did Nick Hudson pay off the loan for you?”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. He didn’t pay the loan back. Did he? And how does Sasha know all this?
“Yes, I know you met Nick at the Morelli party. I hear all the gossip in this town. I’m also a Morelli, and I know how to get information when I want to. But I shouldn’t have had to hire someone to dig up all the dirt on you. You should have told me.”
“I wanted to tell you,” I say softly, looking down at my hands, still holding the cookie. “I just didn’t want to make my shit your shit. My family is—well, it doesn’t need to be your concern.”
“You’re my family now,” Sasha says. “I know our blood that flows through our veins is the same. That connects us forever. So yes, your problems are mine.”
“My mother doesn’t need to be anyone’s problem but my own. Trust me on that.”
“Your stepfather is a scumbag,” Sasha says as she inhales deeply. “And a conman. From what I hear—you got into a lot of trouble because of them.”
I focus my eyes outside the window. I’m too ashamed to look at Sasha. I should have known that I couldn’t keep all of my past and present secret from her. At least not for long.
“Yes. And my mother goes along with every scheme.” I look out the window for several moments, fighting the urge to completely shut down and not say another word. Sasha is right. She does deserve to know the truth, but I’ve never been good at opening up. “I’ve spent my entire life cleaning up their messes. But this last one was a disaster. A costly one. We were all in over our heads.”
“I would have helped you, you know.”
“I didn’t want you to get involved.”
“You need to start asking for help when you need it. You can’t fix everything, and you aren’t alone,” she lectures softly. “I know we’ve only recently connected, but… We’re family.” She raises her hand to stop me when I turn to face her, prepared to argue. “Let’s talk about Nick Hudson now.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you owe Nick now that he’s paid off your debt? No way would he have helped you—a complete stranger—without expecting something. He’s notorious for bailing people out of situations but for a price. Nick Hudson is the collector of favors and debts. His power lies deeply within the men and women who owe him one. So what is it you owe?”
I take a deep breath, not wanting to sound like the whore that I feel. “He wanted to fuck me at the Morelli mansion in return for my safety. And I would have, but… he stopped us before it got that far.”
“He wanted to fuck you for safety?” Sasha’s look of disbelief makes me feel dirty.
“He said he wanted to fuck me before I died,” I confess.
“Asshole…”
“But the safety was just for the night at first. I negotiated that he help me figure out a way to have safety beyond that,” I add. “He said he’d help me, but never said he’d pay off my debt fully. I’m not sure that he has.” I pause to drum up more courage to continue. “But I’m still alive, so maybe he did.”
“So there’s my answer. Nick saved you,” she states with a nod of her head. “Fuck.”
“Fuck?” I repeat, my heart seizing as I do. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you just got yourself into a debt that even the Morelli money can’t buy you out of. And you don’t know Nick Hudson.”
Chapter Seven
Nick Hudson
“I’m not impressed with your six-figure suit.” I walk over to the bar and pour myself a whisky, ignoring the bartender who would have dutifully done it for me. “At least come to me reeking of cheap fabric if you want an extension of the overdue loan.”