"No," I say.
His eyebrow raises. "No?"
"You can lock me in this house. You can watch me on cameras and test me with unlocked doors. But you can't make me talk."
"Can't I?"
There's something dangerous in his voice now.
Something that makes every instinct I have scream at me to back down.
But I don't.
"The contract says I have to stay here," I say. "It says I'm your companion for a year. It doesn't say I have to tell you my life story."
He sets his glass down and stands.
I force myself not to step back as he approaches.
He stops a foot away.
Close enough that I can smell him—expensive cologne and something underneath it.
Something that makes my pulse spike.
"You're right," he says quietly. "The contract doesn't specify the nature of our interactions. It's quite vague, actually. Room and board in exchange for companionship."
He reaches out.
I flinch.
His hand hovers in the air between us.
Then he lowers it.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Eden."
"You already did. You bought me."
"Isavedyou."
I laugh. Can't help it. The sound is bitter.
"Saved me? From what?"
"From whatever would have happened if someone else had won that auction. There were forty-seven other men in that room. Some of them..." He trails off. "Let's just say you're safer with me than you would have been with them."
"Safe," I repeat. "You think I'm safe here?"
"Safer."
"You don't get credit for being less terrible than you could be."
Something flickers in his eyes. Anger? Respect?
"Fair enough," he says.
He turns, goes back to his chair, and picks up his glass.
