The Argentine's Price. Maisey Yates

Nothing.”

      “I know that,” she said, her voice fading. She did know it. She knew the cost of duty over desire better than he realized. Pickett Industries wasn’t her dream; Craig Freeman had never been her dream. But running the company, marrying Craig, were what she was supposed to do. This was her duty to her father, to Thomas’s memory. And duty was something she’d embraced rather than turning away from. It had taken strength to do that, to deny whatever else she might want in order to preserve her father’s respect for her. In order to preserve the Pickett family legacy.

      “These are my terms, you can take them or leave them.”

      Vanessa felt as though the world had just rocked beneath her feet. But it hadn’t; the paper lanterns above her head were still steady, the people around them were still talking, unaware that her life was crumbling around her, that everything she had always believed about herself lay in ashes before her.

      She’d never thought she would stoop so low. Had never thought she would be the one willing to do whatever it took for the sake of money and power. And maybe if it were only money and power she wouldn’t. Regardless of what Lazaro said, this did seem different from the friendly, family-made arrangement she had with Craig. This seemed mercenary. It seemed … It felt in some ways that she was selling herself. Her body.

      But this was her reputation. It was all she had worked for. It was her relationship with the only family she had. If she didn’t have that, she would have nothing. Breaking the unofficial engagement with Craig was one thing, losing Pickett, letting it fall into someone else’s hands … that her father would never forgive her for. And she would never forgive herself.

      She couldn’t face that. And it was time to step up. To do what she’d been doing all her life—make the choice that would best benefit her family legacy and all of the employees who depended on her family for their paychecks.

      “I’ll take them.” Her words sounded flat and harsh in the silent night air.

      “A very wise choice, Vanessa.” Lazaro’s expression didn’t change, his eyes remained flat and dark, latent heat smoldering there, his square jaw still set firmly. But she could feel a change in him, a subtle shift in the energy radiating from him. It resonated in her, caused a response she couldn’t ignore or deny.

      She looked at the cool, hard man standing in front of her. To him, this was business. Another way for him to climb to the top. She just had to see it the same way. She couldn’t afford to involve her heart.

      “I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?” she asked.

      “Not one that had a better outcome. And you’re a smart woman. You know that the end result is all that matters.”

      She wanted to be that woman. She tried to be that woman. Because that was the woman who was going to pull Pickett out of the red.

      “Pickett Industries is all that matters,” she said slowly, feeling the virtual shackles tightening on her wrists even as she spoke the words.