Page 59 of Porcelain Lies

“Like what?”

“Come to dinner tonight. Just you and me. We can discuss proper… repayment terms.”

The implication in his voice makes my hands shake. But Nick’s life hangs in the balance.

“What time?”

“Ten o’clock. My place.” Gianni’s voice carries the same commanding tone he used during our engagement. “Don’t be late.”

I rub a hand over my forehead. “Ten it is.”

“Wear the black dress. The one from Milan.”

My throat tightens. He means the designer dress he bought me — the one that fits like a second skin. Of course he’d want that specific reminder of when I belonged to him.

“Andcara?” His voice drops lower. “No underwear.”

Bile rises in my throat. “Is that really ne-?”

“Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.”

Shit.

“Fine.” The word comes out roughly.

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

I close my eyes, picturing Nick’s haunted face. “Yes. Whatever you want.”

“That’s my good girl.” The praise makes my skin crawl. “Ten o’clock. Don’t disappoint me.”

The line goes dead before I can respond. My phone slips from numb fingers, clattering on the hardwood floor.

The sound of my phone hitting the floor makes Nick stir. I quickly wipe my eyes, but when I turn, he’s already sitting up, watching me with that haunted look I’ve come to hate.

“Who was that?” His voice is rough from sleep.

“No one important.” I force myself to stand, my legs shaky. “Just following up on a lead for the money.”

Nick’s eyes narrow. Even strung out and exhausted, he catches the tremor in my voice. “Stella, what are you planning?”

“Nothing.” I busy myself straightening the throw blanket, avoiding his gaze. “You should try to get more sleep. You look terrible.”

“Don’t change the subject.” He grabs my wrist as I pass, his grip desperate. “I heard you mention three hundred thousand. Where are you getting that kind of money?”

I gently extract my hand from his grasp. “I told you I’d handle it.”

“Not if it means putting yourself in danger.” His face crumples. “This is my mess. I can’t let you—”

“We already discussed this. I’m not letting you deal with this alone. You said yourself, Tarasov won’t hurt me.” The name feels heavy on my tongue. “And I’m not watching you die because of your own stupidity.”

“But—”

“No buts.” I cut him off, channeling our mother’s stern tone. “I have connections from my event planning. People who owe me favors. Just… trust me, okay?”

The lie tastes bitter, but it’s better than telling him I’m crawling back to Gianni. There’s no need for him to know the real price of his salvation.

Nick’s shoulders slump with visible relief, and he pulls me into a tight hug. “I don’t deserve you, sis.”

---