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mine.
    My skin prickles beneath his piercing glare.
    When he leans in closer, he rests his hand near the tray and his fingers brush against my inner thigh, making me sigh. His casually positioned hand mesmerizes me as I take a few more mouthfuls and sip water in between each one, as instructed.
    “Why did you agree to do this for me, Amelia?”
    He shocks me again. “Do you care why, or is this another way to make me squirm?”
    “I’m interested.” He shrugs. “Although, I’d rather you didn’t squirm. It’s your false beliefs, not me, which make you feel shame. Remember?”
    “False beliefs? Ah yes, silly me. The obvious reason is I need the money. Why else?”
    “You need it or you want it?”
    “I want to visit Europe, I need money. Unlike you, I know the difference.”
    “There’s a difference?” He does something wild with his eyebrows, something saying he’s cheeky and inquisitive.
    I laugh. “You know there is; you asked the question.”
    “So?” he asks.
    “So what? What difference does it make to you?”
    “Every difference. Answer me this: What makes you need it, not want it?”
    This guy loves doling out the humiliation, huh?
    I blurt, “Oh, I dunno...perhaps because you propositioned me right outside an employment agency after they rejected me for another job, which means I’m about to lose my apartment and everything in it. And all because some creep took off with my hairdresser and left me with nothing but debts as a thank you for two years of my time.”
    He stands and clasps his hands behind his back, his mouth forming a thin line. “Bastard.”
    Sympathy from the rich kid? “Yes, quite.”
    “Your sadness drew me to you,” he states firmly.
    My what did what? “And you thought you’d like to tie up the sad girl and feed her steak? Sorry, you make zero sense.”
    “Of course not.” He gives me some more water. After taking a few gulps, I give him the bottle. “I merely hoped we could make each other smile.” He takes the napkin and wipes the corners of my mouth. “This happened recently, the thing with your boyfriend?”
    “Two months ago, but as hard as I’ve tried since, I still can’t make a dent on his debts. So I’m here.”
    “Yes, you made a good decision today. Doesn’t that make you happy, to know you’ll be free of him and his debt?”
    It will, but the way I’m getting the cash makes me feel cheap and angry, in spite of the huge payoff. I shrug. “Sorry, I’m full. No more steak, thanks.” I push the tray away, along with Bryce’s hand.
    He frowns as he takes the tray. “You’ve hardly touched it.”
    “Sorry, but this isn’t how I like to eat.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Um...not sure about you or your rich friends, but in the normal world, we wear clothes and can move all my limbs when we eat.”
    His eyes darken. “You don’t like me much, do you?”
    We search one another’s face for a sign of humanity, of something to hold on to.
    I’m vulnerable enough as is, and I’m reminded—as if I need to be—that I’m broke and desperate.
    “I don’t know you, Bryce.”
    “Fine. Lie back, arms raised.”
    I comply, but ask, “Can you loosen the ties on my feet too? They’re almost blue again.”
    He glances at them. “If you stop tugging at the ties, they’ll be fine.”
    He reties my hands and moves to my feet, where he loosens the sashes again.
    The rush of blood to my feet gives me pins and needles, so I wriggle my toes and groan at the discomfort.
    When I open my eyes, relief sizzles through me, and he’s gone again.
    ‘Your sadness drew me to you?’
    I think of his words, his awkward glances and the questions, and a small part of me wonders if Mr. Bryce Morgan, gorgeous billionaire entrepreneur, is just a lonely, lonely man.
     
     
     

Chapter 9
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
    Another hour passes, and I still lie in complete darkness listening out for footsteps, unable to relax at all.
    Don’t most things happen in the