Page 51 of The Photograph

“Gab—” He narrows his impenetrable eyes on me, and I straighten my back. “I’ll stand, thank you.”

My chest constricts as he pulls a binder from a drawer and slides across his desk toward me. I flip it open and …what?My heartbeat, already fast stops before racing into a gallop. I flash my eyes at him and sift through the pages with shaking hands. It’s a file on me. Everything’s in there, from my date of birth to my credit score. There’s even a picture of me coming back from the market. But nothing about Leslieville, nor Cara.Dear God, what is this?I close the yellow file—my favorite color—and steady my fingertips on the cold cover.

With his legs braced apart, his hands in his pockets, and his gaze burning with anger, Gabe’s presence fills the room to the brim. I fasten my hand tighter around my clutch, flick my hair back, and lock my eyes onto his.

“Why do you have a file on me?”

His lip curls in … disgust?

“I wanted to know what your price was.” He scoffs and raises a brow. “Turns out you’re pretty cheap.”

My throat is clogged so tight, I’m suffocating, but Gabe is not done. “Didn’t take much to get you under me.”

When he pans his gaze over me, I lock every one of my muscles.Please, don’t do that.

“A necklace and a dress you lectured me about but are wearing now.”

For your birthday.I finally find my voice. “Gabe, I didn’t ask for those. You—”

His smile is cruel. “No, you didn’t have to, but this is how the game is played, isn’t it? I pay, and you do your little dance.”

My what?I fist my fingers around my clutch. “Gabe, what’s going on? Why are you doing this?”

His dark gaze fastens on mine, and I hold my breath. “Because you fucked with the wrong man.”

I want to scream and yet my voice is barely above a whisper. “Gabe, you’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?”

When he rounds the desk and advances toward me, I instinctively step back. “Gabe,

wh—?”

He tilts his head to the side as if to study me and cocks a brow. “I’m curious. Does that usually work with the other poor schmucks you’re conning?”

My God, he’s not making any sense.“Conning? Does what work?”

The bewilderment must be written on my face because he edges closer, but this time, I stand my ground.

He stares at my mouth. “Sweetheart, you’re too good with a cock, so fucking drop the innocent act.” He leans in. “I would have paid a lot more for a mouth like yours.”

Heat floods my face, and I curl my fingers into fists. When he gets closer, I step back again, so we’re both standing in the middle of his cold office.

Tears press behind my eyes. “Gabe, you were my first—”

He gets to me so fast, I freeze. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Is that how you’re going to play this? You’re a fucking virgin?”

I must have nodded because his expression turns scarier. He laughs but the sound is ugly.

“You must think I’m a fucking idiot. How exactly do you explain there was no blood on the condom?” He leans in further and my heart shatters at his expression. “Sweetheart, your pussy’s tight but not that tight. You’re no virgin. Stop lying to me or this will get real ugly.”

Because it’s not already?I won’t cry and I won’t be made into this again, even by Gabe. Bile churns in my stomach and I swallow hard to stave off my rising nausea.

He stalks behind his desk then slides a document toward me. “I want you to sign this, take the money, and leave this city.”

I’ve heard a version of those words before, but tonight, they shred a part of myself it took me years to build. And I still have no idea why. I don’t know how but my wooden legs manage to take me across to the desk, and I stare at the neon post-it flags on the document.

“Can you at least tell me why you’re acting like this or am I supposed to know what this is about?”

He pulls something out of his wallet and hands it to me. “I’m talking about this.”

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