Page 19 of Beautiful Liar

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.”

I slot the info away, for what purpose, I don’t know. “Glad to hear it. Do you have any other questions?”

Green eyes probe the camera lens. “What…umm, do you have a name?”

“I do.”

She waits a beat, then I get the cocky eyebrow again. “Are you going to tell me?”

“No.”

She frowns. “Then what should I call you?”

“What would you like to call me?”

Her head tilts. “Mechanical Man?”

“That won’t suit.”

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