“I just have one question,” I said, shifting on my feet. “I need to get out of this apartment as soon as possible. Is there any way you can front me some wages?”

Holding my breath, I met his dark gaze. It was a bold request. In any other circumstance, I’d never ask something like this, least of all from a new boss. But nothing about this was normal. He’d asked me to work for him in exchange for pretending to be his girlfriend. If there was ever a time to be bold, it was now. The sooner I could get out of Serena’s apartment, the better.

His lips curled, and a strange expression flickered across his face. “I can do one better than that. I have a guest room in my penthouse. You can stay there as long as you work for me, which will benefit our blooming relationship. It will be good for people to see us leaving the building together.”

“Um. Say what now?” Surely I hadn’t heard him right.

“It will be better if you’re in Manhattan, too,” he continued as if I hadn’t said a word. “That way, you don’t have to take the subway home late at night.” His voice dropped to a lower octave. “The streets are dangerous right now.”

Shivers stormed across the back of my neck.

“Yes, they are dangerous,” I said, boldly striding up to him. “A psychopath is out there killing girls, and you just expect me to move in with you, a stranger? And pretend to be your live-in girlfriend?”

His face turned to stone. “I see. Well, Mia, if you think I’m a killer, then this ends here. My business is built on trust.”

Shaking his head, he stepped around me and made a move for the door. I turned to watch him go, panic blooming in my gut. He was just going to let this go, as easily as that. I needed this job more than he needed me to do it, and he knew it. Plenty of girls would line up to be his fake date. He had options. I didn’t.

Damn him.

Could he really be the killer? He was a massive dick and brimming with danger, but he’d had me alone last night. Nothing had happened. If he’d wanted to kill me, he’d had a chance.

“Wait,” I said with a sigh when he reached the door.

He turned toward me, eyebrow raised.

“You understand why I’d be wary.”

“Of course I do. But I am no killer, Mia, and just because my club is in Hell’s Kitchen does not mean I’m involved.”

“I mean, that is probably what the actual killer would say.”