"Possibly? Come on, Renato. We both know that's exactly what he's going to want to do. He's going to want to spread my legs wide and finger-fuck me to make sure he's getting pure, undamaged merchandise."
"It's not—"
"What? It's not rape? Because that's exactly what it is." I back away slightly, giving him space to breathe. "When a man forces his fingers inside a woman without her consent, what do you call that? In your professional fancy words."
"It's part of the evaluation process."
"No! Say what it is."
"Camilla—"
"Fuck you, Renato! I hate you right now! Say it. When Kozlov puts his hands on my body and penetrates me with his fingers, what is that?"
"It’s a physical examination."
"Wrong answer. Try again."
"It's verification of a woman’s condition."
"Last chance. What is it when a man forces himself on a woman who can't say no?"
He's quiet for a long moment, staring at me with something that looks like pain. "It's rape," he says finally, the word barely audible.
"Right. So, you do know the right word. And you're going to arrange it, profit from it, and call it business. But here's what's going to happen. You're going to be there for every second of it. I won’t make this easier on you. I won’t let you hide from what you’re really doing."
"What do you mean?"
"You heard me. When they come for their little dinner party, when they want their detailed evaluation, you're going to stand there and watch. You don't get to delegate this to Matteo. You don't get to step outside for a phone call. You don’t get to send me to a private room with one of those assholes. You're going to stand there and witness every moment of what you've arranged. Of what you’ve done to me. You did this to me, Renato. You alone. And you’re going to pay."
"That's not necessary."
"It's absolutely necessary. You want to sell me? Then you get to see exactly what that means. You get to watch Kozlov put his hands on my body. You get to watch Al-Rashid examine me. You get to see their faces when they decide how much my suffering is worth in euros."
He blows out a long breath. "Camilla, you don't understand what’s happening here."
"I understand perfectly. You've been telling yourself this is just business because you can't face what you actually are." I stop directly in front of him. "What are you, Renato?"
"A debt collector."
"Wrong. What are you really?"
His breathing is ragged now, his control slipping. "I'm someone who got in too deep to stop."
"You're a man who arranges for women to be raped and tortured for money. Say it."
"No, I won’t."
"Say it, or I'll make sure they know exactly how much you don't want to sell me. I'll tell them about every training session, every moment you lost control, every time you looked at me like you wanted to keep me for yourself. The things I did to you, how I took your cock in my mouth. Wouldn’t that lower my worth considerably? How many millions would that little blowjob knock off my worth?"
"You wouldn't."
"Try me. I'll tell Kozlov how you kissed me. I'll tell Al-Rashid how your hands shook when you touched my breasts. I'll make sure they know you've handled me inappropriately."
The threat hits its mark. He goes very still.
"What do you want from me?"
"I want you to own what you're doing. Stop hiding behind euphemisms." I move closer again. "I want you to say what you are."
