"What do you want, Mr. Grant?" Freya asked, her voice steady despite the fact that she was pinned to the hot asphalt by two of his men. She stared up at him, her eyes burning with a fearlessness that seemed to surprise him. Mr. Grant threw his head back and laughed, a mocking, dry sound that sent chills down her spine. "What do I want?" he repeated, smoothing the front of his pristine white suit. "You know exactly what I want, Freya. I want what is mine, and right now, you are my property." "I already told you, I'm not working for you anymore, Mr. Grant," she spat, struggling against the heavy hands on her shoulders. "Really?" He leaned down, his face inches from hers. The smell of his expensive cigars and minty breath was suffocating. "Then how are you going to pay me back? You owe me thousands, and the interest is growing every hour you spend wasting my time." "Just give me some time! I'll find a way to pay you back every cent," she pleaded, though she knew it was a lie. "No, y
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