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I hang up before he can get another word in.

I press the accelerator down hard, my hands tightening on the steering wheel as the engine roars to life. I don’t know what the hell my brothers want to talk about, but they just texted me out of nowhere minutes ago demanding an emergency sit-down. I had actually planned on having an early night for once, so my mood is already in the gutter.

When the phone rings again, a dark streak of rage hits me. I swear to God, if this is Malachi or any of my brothers calling to nag me again, I’m throwing the damn phone right out the window.

I glance down at the console display, and the name flashing on the screen makes my foot ease off the gas.

Alexis.

I swipe the screen and take the call fast.

“Hi, doll,” I say, a smirk already tugging at my lips simply because I know how much she hates the nickname. The second I realize I’m smiling, I wipe it clean off my face.

“Don’t call me that,” she mutters instantly, her voice tight.

Then she lets out a ragged sigh that cuts right through my annoyance. “I... I need to talk to you about something. Can I come over?”

Without a single second of hesitation, I crank the wheel, whipping the car into a hard u-turn and turning completely away from the road leading to Eden.

“Yes,” I tell her, my tone serious. “You can come.”

“Okay,” she whispers, and the line goes dead.

I hit the accelerator again, pushing the car to its absolute limit as the needle climbs. I know I should probably call my brothers and let them know something urgent came up, but they’ll just rage and demand answers I’m not about to give them.

So instead of dealing with their noise, I reach over, power my phone completely off, and toss it onto the passenger seat.

I race toward my house, the tires squealing against the asphalt. I have no idea what Alexis wants to talk about, but I heard the raw, desperate worry suffocating her voice.

Alexis walks into my living room barely five minutes after I pull into the driveway. I’ve just had enough time to throw my jacket over the couch, kick my feet up, and turn on the TV, pretending like I’ve been sitting here casually watching it the whole time.

When I look up at her, a tight, forced smile graces her face, not quite reaching her eyes.

"Sorry to disturb you," she says, her voice strained.

I wave her off, keeping my voice smooth. "Please sit. What would you like to drink?"

She doesn’t sit. "I’m accepting the offer you made me in my bedroom the other night. Sex for money."

It’s in moments like this I appreciate how blank my expression is. If it weren't for years of keeping my face a stone wall, she’d see the sheer shock and annoyance hitting me like a ton of bricks.

Not at her, clearly.

I see the painful, rigid tension in her stance, the embarrassed flush burning across her cheeks, and I know right then and there I can’t do this. I don’t want to.

Honestly, when I made that original proposition in her bedroom, I would have taken her up on it without a second thought. But now? Now it feels completely different.

Yes, I want to fuck her—she’s sexy as fuck, and the thought of her in my bed drives me insane. But only if she wants me the same way.

She scoffs impatiently when I don't move, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well?"

"What happened, Alexis?" I ask quietly, my dark gaze locked onto hers.

She shifts under my eyes, reluctantly spilling out the whole mess—the clinic's text, the held treatments, the immediate need for Milly's new prescription stack.

I stare at her, the jaw muscle in my cheek flexing hard. "I don’t think we should do this. It’s⁠—"

"Why are you acting righteous; you’re the one who made the offer in the first place?" she snaps, her eyes flashing with hot anger. "Men like you have no morals, Cain, so let’s just do this and get it over with."