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15

Minutes later, Athos and I were sitting in the backseat of his chauffeur-driven luxury car, driving through the quiet, sunny streets of SaintClair City, with me perched on one end of the seat and him sprawled out on the other side.

As seemed to be his habit, he fought fiercely with one of his employees over his cell phone. As he ended the call, he focused his attention on me, probing me, making me feel his weight, even though I did not turn my face to look back.

"Are you always this quiet?" he asked in a neutral tone of voice.

“I have nothing to talk to you about,” I said as firmly as I could.

— He hardly speaks, but he has a sharp tongue.

“Only with people like you.

"People like me, how?" What do they denounce when they are sexually abused and victims of a scam?

Finally, I turned to face him and felt that thud inside me that came over me whenever I met his icy gaze, fixing me with scrutiny, alerting me to how dangerous I was and, at the same time, waking me up. Something else reminde
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