Shhh…
Don’t fight back.
You owe me.
You’re trapped.
You’re mine.
Four letters—four chains locking up.
I force a step back,
breaking his touch,
breaking his grip,
breaking the spell.
“This isn’t about me,” I snap.
“It’s about them.”
I pluck a pen from the holder
and drop it on the folder.
“Sign off on the transfers, Raymond.”
He sees the shake in my hand I can't hide.
He sees the clench in my thighs,
the crack in my control.
Of course he can spot it.
He put the cracks there himself.
His fingers trail the edge of the desk
before taking the pen.
He spins it while staring at me,
the seconds ticking by,
the walls closing in.
Then—finally—he flips the folder open
and leans over the desk.
I turn away,
face the window,
close my eyes,
