“Yes, well… thank you for that,” she repliedcurtly, avoiding further eye contact and looking down at hershoes.

When the man reached into his pocket, Elsaflinched and backed away.

The man cocked his head to the side and itwas hard to miss the amusement in his eyes. “A little gun shy?” heasked as he casually held out his business card. Her stiffened bodyrelaxed and spots invaded her vision from the adrenaline rush. “I’dhate to see such a lovely piece of clothing go to waste. Allow meto pay for the dry cleaning,” he remarked as he thrust the cardtoward her.

“That’s really not necessary,” she pushed thecard away as she tried to move past him without appearing asnervous as she felt.

Stepping in front of her, he blocked herpassage, his solid frame an ominous, hulking presence. He stood soclose she could feel the heat from his body and feel the movementof his breathing, but she forbade herself to look up into his eyesfor fear of what she would see looking down at her. She took in asharp breath and held it as she listened to his slow, steadybreathing. Holding the card up in front of her face, he gripped itfirmly at the corner and flicked it with his middle finger.

“I insist,” he growled.

Elsa’s breath hitched and she froze. Hismasculine scent mixed with the hint of a woman’s perfume and sexassaulted her senses, dizzying her and kindling a fire deep withinher core. She couldn’t resist inhaling once more to savor hisessence, feeling overwhelmed with a myriad of emotions. Excitementand something else – something she didn’t dare admit to herself; anaching desire to taste him… and dread. It was a heady and confusingcombination.

She had to get away from him and fast beforeshe did something she would regret. Squeezing past him, she shookher head. She didn’t want his card. She didn’t want anything to dowith him. She just wanted to get as far away from him as possible,content to assign the handsome and frightening stranger to the listof mysterious knight in insidious black armor status and leave itat that.

2: Intentions

Returning home from The Brewery, Victor’s mind was buzzing with thekind of energy that came only from a new test subject. He reachedfor his journal, eager to plot out his course for her when hisphone rang out. Fucking, Seven. Would he never be free from her?Rolling his eyes with irritation, he promptly blocked her numberand laid his phone on the couch next to him. His eyes closed onlybriefly when Elsa’s face flashed across his eyelids.

Grabbing his journal, he turned the page andbegan anew.

“Hello Chapter 8. I met you tonight at theGrace Street Brewery when I was least expecting it. I simply wentthere to discuss the state of my ventures with my realtor and tosign the last of the paperwork on the sale of C7’s habitat. I’mglad to be done with it and her. She proved to be more trouble thanshe was worth and I gleaned nothing of any value from ourshort-lived liaison. I do so hope your chapter is longer than thatof 7’s.

It was your voice that first caught myattention as I became mesmerized with the anxiety exuding from it.How I love fear and anxiety; it’s what makes the world go aroundand the tides ebb and flow. It makes my blood hum and my cock hard.Yes, I’m a sick and depraved fuck like that. But that’s what I getpaid to do. It takes one to know one, after all. And so my journeyto study and learn how to read people continues and you, C8, arenext on my ‘to-do list.’

Elsa. What a lovely name. What fun we’llhave. I anticipate learning much from you on my quest to discovereverything I can about human interaction in all forms. Yourminiscule but important role in my life will help not only me, butall of law enforcement as I learn how to break down the walls thatpeople build up in order to hide their secrets and deepest, darkestdesires.

I wish for wanton decadence and wickedthings for you and me. For pain, pleasure, humiliation, anddebauchery beyond anything you or I can imagine. I long for you toopen my mind and allow me to explore all the possibilities of mydark side.

I’ll most likely dream of you this eveningand your ember-colored hair, crimson lips, and that taut, fuckablebody.

You didn’t recognize me. It was a nicechange. But you rejected me tonight and very soon, there will be nomore denying me. You wanted me. I could sense it. I could smellyour arousal on you, as well as your fear. You need what I have tooffer just as I require what you have to give.

Now for the first step in this little game:where to place you. A high-rise penthouse like my darling,over-privileged C3? Maybe a little out of the way bungalow on theedge of town so no one can hear your screams of pleasure and painlike my masochist C5. Or how about a condo in the next county overlike Mr. Machismo in the real world and a dirty whore behind closeddoors C4? Or perhaps a sleazy hotel room like my filthy C6? Sheliked her surroundings seedy, but that’s because she was a dirtygirl. But that’s not you – or is it?

I’ve got you pegged. I could see it in youreyes and the way you moved. You’re little Ms. Professional,everything in its right place, aren’t you? But you have a temper. Ilike that. I like a fire that burns brightly when stoked. Are you adirty girl, Elsa? We’ll soon find out. Along with how out of sortsI can make you feel while I fuck your mind and body until you can’trecognize your own image when you look in the mirror. What secretsare you hiding, my sweet fuckable little Elsa? What filthy thingsare you willing to do for me? What can you teach me that I don’talready know? What can I teach you about yourself? I will know allyour desires and secrets, I promise you, I will.

For you, I’ll find a place that is unique.Somewhere you feel at home. Something on Grace Street.”

3: Calculated

For more than two weeks, Elsa’s dreams hadbeen haunted off and on by the man that smelled like sex and priceycologne and his penetrating eyes. It was a welcome change from herusual tormented dreams of Patrick. She was desperate to be over himbut still, she lingered on what could have been. It was patheticand she hated herself for her inability to let him go. It had beenover six months since their break up. Why couldn’t she just moveon?

Directing her attention to the task at hand,she worked diligently in the silence of her office. Solitude waswhat she had wanted but now faced with the unnatural quietness, hermind and thoughts were scattered and often times bordering on theridiculous. She needed a distraction. Cueing some music on herphone, she let the sounds of People Help the People by Birdycrash against her body. The somber words somehow soothed heranxieties of her past failures, and urged her to finish herwork.

Walking past the large window, she spottedthe car that had been parked out in front of her apartment foralmost a week. She had just assumed someone new had moved into thebuilding, but seeing it here and now was a bit disconcerting. Sheopened the blinds to get a better look and saw a man sitting in thevehicle peering up at her. The sun was bright in the sky and theangle of it nearly blinded her, making her unable to make out anyrecognizable features other than his dark hair. Was it coincidence?Alarm bells went off in her head telling her that it wasn’t.

As she stood staring down at the parking lot,unbidden thoughts of her family came to her mind. She had promisedto call and let them know she was safe. It had been five weekssince her move to Richmond and she had only texted them, stillunable to find the nerve to call them. She didn’t want to hear thecynicism in their voices or their lecturing about how wrong she hadbeen to move away from Boston instead of simply finding anotherjob. But who was it wrong for? Not for her. It had been the rightthing to do. She was sure of it.