And the worst part? She's right to hate me. Everything she said was true.
The dinner party is tonight. Three buyers. Full evaluation access.
And I’m expected to watch every moment of it.
At six-thirty PM, I summon Camilla to my study.
The soft click of her heels echo down the hallway before I see her, every step sounding like a countdown to hell. She stands in my doorway, assessing me with those sharp eyes.
The lamplight hits her first, sliding over the silk of her dress.
My throat tightens. I shouldn’t be looking at her like this, not tonight, not ever. She’s wearing a black silk dress that fits her perfectly, elegant, expensive, appropriate for a woman being presented to potential buyers.
"You look..." I start, then stop.
"Appropriately presented?"
"Beautiful."
We stare at each other for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us.
"Tell me about tonight," she says finally.
There’s no good way to tell a woman she’s about to be handled like inventory, but I’ve run out of lies soft enough to hide behind.
"Cocktails at eight, dinner immediately after. Conversation, wine, civilized discussion."
"And after dinner?"
"After dinner, they'll want to... evaluate... their potential investment."
"Stop with the fancy words. You’re doing that same old bullshit. What happens after dinner?"
"They'll want to examine you. Physically." The words cost me something.
"All of them? At the same time?" she asks.
"Probably not simultaneously. But yes, all three will want their own assessment."
She nods as if this makes perfect sense. "And you'll be present."
"Yes. I'll be there for every moment. I won’t leave you alone with them."
"You’d better not." She moves closer to my desk. "Any last minute information I should know about the men?"
"Viktor Kozlov. He'll want to test your mind as much as your body."
"How?"
"Conversation. Questions. He likes women who can think, who can challenge him intellectually before he breaks them."
"And physically?"
For a split second, I imagine Kozlov’s hand on her skin and grip the edge of my desk to ground me.
"He'll want to touch you. Check your muscle tone, your skin."
She doesn't flinch. "And the others?"
