Page 258 of Hate Mates

The desperation in her voice tugs at something inside of me. Maybe it’s because we’re not so different, Rachel and I. We both got caught up in something bigger before we had the chance to think it through.

After all, breaking legs for a living was never my dream. But hey, when there’s a need you can fill—a need that pays as well as this one—it’s hard to say no.

She’s getting to me. I kind of hate myself for bashing in her glass cases. But it’s my job. I’m an enforcer. I’ve broken legs, though I never hurt women. I only hurt their property.

Truth is, I could pay off her debt with a week’s wages from Malcolm.

Not something I’ve ever considered.

Not until her.

Her body is luscious, with gorgeous perky tits and a succulent ass. Plus, she’s damned beautiful with her dark hair and eyes. Her leggings hug her thighs and ass, and her simple T-shirt covered with a chef’s apron…

Not the things a wet dream is made of, but on her?

Fucking delicious.

I can’t help but respond to her. It’s not just physical either. There’s something about her spirit, her resilience against the odds, that appeals to me.

“Work for me?” I echo, raising a single brow. “And what exactly would that entail?”

She bites her lip. “Whatever you need. Cleaning, cooking… I can be your personal baker.”

“Let me get this straight.” I run a hand through my hair. “You’re offering to work off your debt by working as my…maid? My cook?”

“I–I guess you could put it that way,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing a deep red.

Fuck. She’s hot.

I narrow my eyes. “And how would you keep this place running? You’d be with me all day. Who would do the baking?”

She presses her lips together. “Bessie can bake. Not as good as I can. But I can come in early to start each day’s bread, andwe could slim down the menu, you know. Just until the debt is paid.”

“Just how much do you think maids make, Rachel?”

“I don’t know…”

“You owe another twenty large plus interest. That’s close to thirty. You’d be lucky to get that in six months.”

A strangled laugh escapes her lips. “Six months?!”

I tilt my head. Her eyes are wide and fearful, and her chest rises and falls with each shaky breath she takes. But there’s a determination there, a fire that refuses to be extinguished no matter how dire the circumstances. It’s compelling.

And hot.

“Six months,” I say. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

She swallows hard before giving me a curt nod. “I don’t have any other choice, do I?”

I walk toward her, resisting the urge to touch her porcelain cheek. “Rachel,” I say, “there’salwaysa choice.”

Chapter Three

RACHEL

What the hell does he mean? I havenochoice.

The thought of working for this asshole makes me want to puke. He destroyed my counter. My day-old goods. My…

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