“You design cars?” she asked, genuinely impressed. “What kind of cars?”
I could talk about my work all day. Sometimes I got carried away and talked people’s ears off. I’d done it on dates, but they didn’t mind because success usually turned them on. “The kind you arrived in.”
“Ooh…sports cars. That’s cool.”
Since I was so successful, people’s compliments shouldn’t matter to me. But flattery still worked.
“How do you design them? Do you design the look?”
“I design everything. I’m also an engineer. I have a team that helps me with other elements, like making cars electric or improving gas mileage, but I do the basics, from the interior to the exterior.”
“Wow, that’s impressive. I’ve never heard of anything like that before.” She finished eating and set her fork on her empty plate. She’d wiped it clean, getting every single bite like she might not get the chance to eat again. “How long have you been doing that?”
“About ten years.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “How old are you?”
“That’s blunt. How old are you?”
“Twenty-six,” she said without offense. “The only reason why I ask is because you seem young to have had that kind of success for such a long time.”
“I started young.”
“Clearly. But that makes it more impressive. When I imagine a man saying something like that, I picture a guy in his forties—at least.”
“I’m not in my forties.” Not even in my thirties.
She pressed her lips tightly together as she considered her guess. “Thirty-three?”
“Twenty-nine.”
She shook her head slightly. “That’s unbelievable. You owned an entire car company when you were nineteen?”
“At that age, I was starting out. Had a little success. It slowly grew over the following year before it started to snowball. People like my designs and the power of my engines. Not only that, but people are impressed by my clean energy emissions. It exceeds the government recommendations by a factor of ten.”
“Speak English, Carter,” she teased. “Exceeds what?”
“The government regulations for gas emissions,” I said. “Mine are the lowest in the industry without compromising on speed and power.”
She nodded slowly. “Wow. If I had the money, I would buy one of your cars.”
I chuckled. “Thanks.”
She cleared the plates then carried them into the kitchen. I heard the faucet turn on a moment later, and the sound of her washing dishes and clearing the kitchen counter filled my ears.
I wouldn’t let my guard down around her because she was still unpredictable, but it seemed like I’d neutralized her hostility. I didn’t ask her any personal questions because I didn’t want to know anything about her. If I sympathized with her, I might struggle to hand her off to that Russian demon. The second I saw those deep scars on her back, the evidence of severe punishment with a whip, I immediately felt sorry for her. A woman didn’t deserve to be treated that way. But at the same time, I found it arousing. I’d never been turned on by pain before. I liked spanking a woman or grabbing her by the neck, but I’d never seriously wanted to hurt someone. But the idea of punishing her like that got me hard.
This woman did strange things to me.
She watched TV in the living room with me, enjoyed another bottle of wine, and then I walked her to her bedroom.
“I feel like we’re on a date,” she said as she stepped inside her bedroom.
“That’s a nice way to put it.” I pulled the key out of my pocket and grabbed the door handle. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She glanced at the metal key in my palm. “Are you going to lock me in here?”
“Yes. Need anything else before I go?”
Her eyes narrowed until they looked like two piercing bullets. “What about our deal? You said if I didn’t pull anything, I could have a very comfortable life.”
“I’m aware of what I said.”
“Then you can’t lock me in here.”
“I can do whatever I want. I’ve given you a great deal, and you would be stupid to fuck it up. But that doesn’t mean I trust you.”
“What if I need something?”
I pulled the phone out of my pocket and handed it to her. “My cell number is programmed into the contacts.”
She gripped it in her hand, staring at it like I’d just handed her a piece of solid gold.
“It’s not a regular cell phone.”
She looked up again, her confused expression becoming heavy with disappointment.
“It can only connect to my cell phone. So you can’t call the police, a friend, or any other number.”
She clutched it in her hand again before lowering it to her side.
“Good night.”
She sighed before she turned away. “Good night, Carter.”
Instead of shutting the door, I stared at her back, seeing the way she tossed the phone on the bed. “What’s your name?” Egor never mentioned her by name, and at the Underground, she was simply referred to as a slave. In the weeks that I’d had her, it had never crossed my mind. I wanted to be as unattached as possible, so when I handed her over to Egor I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. But if I was going to keep conversing with her, it would be easier if I knew what to call her.