Him and his damned game. There was no gettingthrough to him and Elsa was too tired to try. “You know nothing,only stupid, useless facts,” she turned her face away.

“I know your precious Patrick likes to fuckhis sexual partners in the ass,” he shot back.

His cruelty knew no bounds and she rose toher feet, ready for another fight.

“I have some footage of that, too, if you’dlike me to show you,” one side of his mouth curled upward revealinghis amusement in her annoyance.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she blaredat him.

“Did he fuck you in the ass?” he plunged on,his voice low and composed.

Feeling the blood rise to her cheeks, sheseated herself and fidgeted with the hem of her robe. “No,” shewhispered, trying to avoid eye contact.

Sitting on the edge of his seat, Mr. Blackgave her a pointed stare. “I’ve already told you once that ifyou’re going to lie to me, then make it convincing.”

“You want me to lie to you?” she askedwith incredulity. What person in their right mind wanted to be liedto?

“No, but if you’re going to play my game andcontinue to do it, then put some fucking effort into it and make mebelieve what you’re saying,” he snapped. “Here’s another littlefact for you, Ms. Cassidy: despite what everyone says about themerits of truth and honesty, lying can be an extremely useful skillto master. It can get you out of a helluva lot of shitty situationsand it may even save your life someday.”

There truly was no talking to this manlogically or otherwise and she sat slack-jawed staring at hisridiculousness. Is this what they trained him to be in the FBI? Anegomaniac who touted the virtues of dishonesty?

“Now shall we try this again? Did Patrickfuck you in the ass?”

She wasn’t going to play his game. Not thistime. “Yes,” she answered without blinking an eye.

His blazing eyes seethed with fury at herhonesty. “Did you like it?” he continued to badger her.

Pushing her chin out, she answered truthfullyagain. “Yes.”

Seemingly resigned, Mr. Black sank back intothe chair and folded his arms back over his chest. Elsa felt pridein having won this round against the inscrutable Mr. Black untilshe saw the light in his eyes return as if he was ready for thenext go round.

“I’ll have to keep that little fact inmind.”

She gave up. It wasn’t even noon and she wasready for a nap. She curled into the chaise and turned away fromMr. Black. She couldn’t stand to look at him one more minute. Theroom darkened when the curtains were drawn on the bay window andwithout warning, the tears came again. But they weren’t forPatrick, they were for the loss of the last little bit of innocenceshe had retained over the years. Mr. Black had annihilated it andshe felt used up.

“Peach,” she heard from above her.

She wasn’t anyone’s sweet anything. She wasjust plain old, used-up Elsa with a broken heart and a battered andbruised spirit.

The small chaise could barely hold her, butMr. Black squeezed his body in behind her and crushed her with hisarms.

“Don’t touch me,” she tried to shrug himaway.

“Stop fighting me, Elsa,” he cooed into herear.

She needed his warmth and grudgingly gaveinto his embrace. He tugged her closer yet until her bodyached.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” he breathedagainst her neck. “That was never my intention. I just wanted…” hesighed. “Just let me hold you.”

*

Elsa woke hot and sweaty and with Mr. Black’slimbs wrapped around her. She freed herself from his grip and movedto the window. She had no idea what time it was, but she wasguessing it was late afternoon. She peered over her shoulder to seehim slumbering soundly.

She was still feeling the effects of hisreprisal, both physically and emotionally. Would she ever forgivehim for what he had done? Could she? She wanted to. The desperationheard in his voice as he held her close spoke more to hisintentions than his actions.

Kneeling by his side, she pulled her fingersthrough his thick hair and he mumbled “Cambridge” before rollingonto his side. The skeleton key hanging on the long chain aroundhis neck jangled and dipped off the edge of the chaise. Skimmingher fingers over the old silver ridges of the key, she had an ideaof what door it might open after looking it over closely – the doorto the room she had been trying to gain access to during each ofher visits to 2500 East Grace Street.

She fretfully chewed the corner of her lip,pondering what to do. She lifted the key to see if she could slipthe chain over his head but when she tried, he stirred and nearlywoke up. Instead, she slid the necklace around until the clasppresented itself. Slowly she opened it and released the chain fromaround his neck.

Quietly, she climbed the stairs and put thekey into the opening. She took a deep breath and turned. The loudclick of the door unlocking startled her and her eyes darted to thestaircase, positive she had woken Mr. Black. When she was convincedshe hadn’t, she tip-toed in. Flipping on the lights, she was facedwith a wall of small televisions and a computer on a desk. Sheimmediately knew what she was looking at. Surveillance monitors.Her stomach dropped. He had been watching her all along in thehouse. It was no wonder he knew that she had masturbated. But whatwas the purpose of watching her? What exactly was his agenda?

She glanced out the door one more time andlistened carefully to make sure there were no signs of life frombelow before booting up the computer.

One by one, the monitors came on, revealingeach of the rooms in the house except the surveillance room and thehall to the bedrooms. She could see clearly that Mr. Black wasstill in the same position she had left him. She punched severalbuttons randomly on the computer and was faced with a panel ofoptions, one of which was to view recorded video. Undoubtedly herpunishment had been recorded, but she couldn’t bear the thought ofseeing that horrible fiasco played out and her reaction. Or Mr.Black’s.

Remembering the slap, she touched her cheek.She wasn’t going to make excuses for his heinous action againsther, but he did warn her. She had no doubt that no matter how harshhis response had seemed at the time, he had most definitely heldback and that he could’ve hurt her far worse than he did. Actually,her cheek wasn’t even sore and she suspected there was no trace ofit. She shook her head of the thought. He hit her and she wouldnever allow it again. Like she had been allowed one for free – sohad he. She vowed at that moment to never raise her hand in angeragainst him again, but not out of fear of reprisal but out ofrespect, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Sitting on the floor next to the desk sat hisbriefcase. She opened it and reached a hand inside, pulling out thefirst thing her fingers clamped onto - a thick, leather-boundjournal. When she opened it to the page that was bookmarked, herpulse skittered when she read the heading.

Chapter 8: Elsa, age 28. Profession:Biomedical engineer.

She only got halfway through the distressingpassage when something on one of the monitors caught her eye andshe saw Mr. Black rising from chaise. She stuffed his journal backinto his satchel and turned everything off quickly, panic coursingthrough her body. She reached the door and looked back to see hisbriefcase wide open. She forgot to latch it, but there was no time.She quietly closed the door, locked it and hoped that he didn’thear the noisy old latch when she did. She heard her name calledout and sprinted into the master suite across the hall and into thebathroom, planting her ass on the seat.

Hearing footsteps on the stairwell, shesuddenly remembered she still had the key and necklace in hand. Sheflung both out into the bedroom near the chair facing the wall andprayed he believed it had fallen off during their physicalaltercation.