“I am not a hostage,” I said.

Victor chuckled softly from the corner, tapping his cane against the floor.

“You do not have a choice, child,” Victor said.

“I do,” I said, looking directly at Roman. “You like numbers, Vescari. What is the exact number my father owed?”

Roman opened his notebook.

“Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars,” Roman said.

“Then I want a contract,” I said.

The room went very quiet.

Even the rain seemed to quiet down outside.

“A contract?” Declan asked, his brow furrowing.

“A legal, binding contract,” I said. “I will work off the balance. Every cent. But I want it in writing.”

“And if we say no?” Roman asked.

“Then you can shoot me right here,” I said. “Because I will not move an inch for you otherwise.”

Declan laughed, a loud, barking sound that echoed off the concrete walls.

“She has steel in her,” Declan said, looking at Victor.

Victor leaned forward, resting both hands on his silver-topped cane.

“And what skills do you have to offer that are worth half a million dollars, Maeve?” Victor asked.

“I ran my father’s business,” I said. “I kept the books. I know how to find money that people try to hide.”

Roman looked down at his notebook, then back up at me.

His dark eyes were empty of emotion, but I saw a faint twitch in his jaw.

“Our businesses are complicated,” Roman said.

“I can handle complicated,” I said.

“We have a property,” Victor said, rising slowly from his chair. “A neutral estate on the north ridge. The records there are… disorganized.”

“Disorganized is putting it gently,” Declan muttered. “The books are a bloody disaster.”

“You will go there,” Roman said. “You will audit the combined ledgers of our three families.”

“If you find the discrepancies, we will credit your debt,” Victor said.

“And if I do?” I asked.