But as I walk down the hallway toward her room, I find myself halfway hoping she does try something. The verbal sparring, andthe way she looked me in the eye and said 'fuck you' without flinching has awakened something I haven't felt in years.
The thrill of an actual challenge. And from a woman no less.
I unlock her door and step inside without knocking. She's sitting on the bed, shoulders slumped in fake defeat, playing her role perfectly. But when she turns to face me, those dark brown eyes are as perceptive as I expected them to be.
"You’ve done quite the thorough search," I say. "I particularly enjoyed watching you test the window locks. Very systematic."
"You've been watching." She stands slowly, and I catch the way her hand brushes against her pocket. Touching her makeshift weapons.
"Of course I've been watching. Did you think I'd leave six million euros worth of merchandise unsupervised?"
The words hit their mark. She flinches, but she doesn't break. "Did you find it entertaining?" she asks.
"Actually, yes." I move into the room, closing the door behind me. The soft click echoes in the silence. "Most women in your situation would spend their time crying or trying to negotiate. You've been planning."
"What do you possibly think I’ve been planning?"
I walk to the writing desk, trailing my fingers across the surface where the fountain pen used to be. "I don’t know and that's what makes it interesting."
She's watching me with the intensity of a cat tracking prey. Every micro-movement catalogued and analyzed.
"Missing a fountain pen, I see. And some nail files from the vanity. Strategically placed there of course. By me."
She goes perfectly still, but I catch the slight dilation of her pupils. Fear response, even though her expression remains controlled.
"Smart choices," I continue, genuinely impressed. "The pen especially. Remove the nib, sharpen it properly, aim for the right spot." I meet her eyes directly. "Could do some real damage with enough force behind it."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
The lie comes out smooth. But her pulse is visible at her throat, faster than it should be.
"No?" I step closer, testing her reactions. She doesn't back away. "Empty your pockets. Show me what else you’ve got."
"No."
The word hangs between us like a challenge. She's pushing back, establishing boundaries, showing me exactly how far she's willing to go. It's either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.
I'm starting to think it's both.
"No? An interesting choice of word for someone in your position."
"You want to search me, do it yourself."
Her suggestion shocks me. Images flash through my mind. My hands on her body, searching for weapons, finding excuses to touch her. The way she'd tense under my fingers, the sharp intake of breath when I found what I was looking for.
Jesus Christ.
"Careful, Camilla. You're not in a position to make demands."
"I'm not making demands." She stands up, straight into me, forcing me to step back slightly. The movement brings herclose enough to smell her sweet shampoo. "If you think I have something hidden, prove it."
The challenge in her voice lights something inside me. She’s playing with fire and doesn’t even realize it.
"You know what I like about you?" I reach for the camera remote, needing something to do with my hands. "You've got balls hanging to the fucking ground."
I press the button, killing the surveillance cameras. "There, the cameras are off and we have privacy. Now empty your fucking pockets."
She doesn't move. Doesn't even flinch at my tone. Just stands there looking at me like I'm the one trapped in this room.
