Chapter Forty Five
Laila’s POV
Zane cleared his throat, snapping his dark eyes back up to my face as if he hadn't just gotten caught staring at my chest like a hungry animal. He shifted his broad shoulders, pulling out a thick, black leather folder from the inner pocket of his jacket and tossing it onto the wooden counter between us.
"I am not going to hand you charity, Laila," he said, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly tone that cut through the cold air of the ruined bar. "I know your pride won't take it, and I know your brother would rather rot in a cell than take my money. So we fix this the proper way. On home turf."
I looked down at the sleek folder, then back up at his face, narrowing my eyes into tight slits. "What is this?"
"A private, off-the-books underground fight,"
