Chemistry. Attraction. Whatever you want to call it.
She feels it too. I can see it in the way her pupils dilate. The way her breath quickens.
She doesn't want to feel it. Probably hates herself for feeling it.
But she does.
"We'll see about that," I say.
I let the words carry the weight of a promise. A threat.
Both.
Her jaw tightens. She's scared and she should be.
But she doesn't look away.
Fascinating.
I've purchased art worth tens of millions.
Cars that cost more than most houses.
Companies that employ thousands.
None of them have ever looked at me like this.
Like I'm dangerous.
Like they might be dangerous too.
"The car is waiting," I say. "We're leaving."
"Where are we going?"
Her voice.
It's lower than before.
Rougher.
Like she's been screaming or crying or both.
Probably both.
"My estate," I tell her. "In the Berkshires. You'll stay there."
"For how long?"
"As long as I want you there."
Her hands curl into fists. "The contract says one year."
So she can read. Good. I hate having to explain things.
"The contract is a legal formality," I say. "A way to make this transaction appear legitimate to anyone who might ask questions. The reality is much simpler."
I step closer.
