The intercom next to my elbow buzzes from the team I have waiting next door. “She’s here. Shall I take her in and explain the procedure to her?” Fionnella Smith, the team leader asks.
“Not yet. I want to talk to her for a minute. I’ll send her out when I’m done.”
“Okay.”
I slide my voice distorter into place and wait.
She’s shown into the room five minutes later. She pauses at the door. Her eyes warily assess the room, her body poised with more than a hint of self-protection. Intrigue heightens.
She’s scared of something. Or someone.
The urge to bloody myself with her secrets escalates.
I cross my legs and wait for her to enter. When she doesn’t, I speak, “It’s good to see you again. Come in, Lucky. No one’s going to bite you today.”
The provocative words achieve the desired results. She steps in and shuts the door behind her, while one eyebrow spikes. “No one’s going to bite me any day.”
“Is that your definitive view on the subject of biting?”
She drops her tiny backpack and pulls out the chair in front of the camera, a frown crawling over her exquisite features. “Do I get docked points if I say no?”
“This isn’t a game show, Lucky. I merely want to assess your boundaries. I bite sometimes when I fuck. Will that be a problem?”
Heat engulfs her face, and her fingers drum on the table before rising to curl around the ends of her ponytail. One shoulder lifts. “I’m okay with it, I guess, as long as you don’t draw blood.”
“Noted.”
Her gaze flickers for a second, then she does what I’ve wanted her to do since she walked in. She stares straight into the camera. She’s better composed now than she was in my executive restaurant on Friday. She’s had time to prepare for this meeting whereas then, her reaction to me was raw and unfettered.
I muse over the possibilities as I stare back at her.
Eventually, the question spills out, “So, I’ve got the gig?”
I pause for a long minute. “Yes, Lucky, you have the gig.”
The sharp breath she takes is curious. Her expression isn’t one of happiness or the ecstasy of gluttony satisfied. It’s overwhelming relief that stems from abated terror, like a person snatched back from the jaws of certain death.#p#分页标题#e#
Her whole body trembles with the release of the paralyzing feeling. Her lower lip quivers, but she kills the telltale action by catching it between her teeth and gnawing on it.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me just yet, Lucky. There’s a reason I’m paying you a million dollars for your time. You will be fucked with, and not always in ways you’ll find…pleasant.”
Her fingers find her hair again. “But, you won’t hurt me, physically?”
“Not intentionally, no.”
She clears her throat. Decision made. “You chose me, and I don’t intend to fail.” Determination born of self-preservation.
Against my will, pique digs in a little deeper.
“No. You won’t. I won’t allow it.”
Her lashes sweep down for a moment as she gathers herself. “What happens next?”
“Next you get prepped.”
“Prepped?”
“A minor ground rule, Lucky. Don’t make me repeat myself. Don’t ask for explanations for things that are out of your control. A million dollars buys me unlimited access to your body and a button on your lip, barring further ground rules to be hammered out. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That said, you have questions. I’ll allow a few. Make them count.”
I sit back and sip the whiskey at my elbow. She doesn’t instantly launch into questions. She takes her time, considers. I approve of that.
“Am I going to meet you before we start?”
“No.”
“But aren’t you worried we might not be compatible?”
I recall the flicker I felt when she served me on Friday. She almost succeeded in piercing the outer layer of the seething blackness with her unexpected presence. At her initial interview, I overestimated what a wall of bricks and glass could achieve. Sensing her close in the restaurant, looking into her eyes afterward, I’m almost certain the flicker turned into a daring little spark. “I’m not worried.”
Cynicism twists over her face. “You sound very sure about that.”
“I have a cock, you have a cunt. We’re compatible.”
Her nostrils flutter at the uncouth words, which surprises me in light of the hardened look I’ve glimpsed in her eyes.
“Does my language offend you?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve heard worse.”