“How did you do that?” that’s a stupid question to ask a man who went to M.I.T. and owns a weapons company.
The more important question to ask is why he did that.
“That’s the kind of shit I can do.”
“Why did you keep the pictures?”
“Maybe I wanted to keep them for myself.” He swivels his chair around and moves mine out too so we can face each other.
“Why?”
“Maybe I like the idea of being the only man who sees you that way.”
I don’t know how to react.
I should be happy my information and images aren’t on that God awful website for the seedy club members to see and in the hands of men like Robert—even if he thinks I’m dead. At the same time, I don’t know what the hell to make of Eric’s words.
“I think it’s time to continue your punishment, Babydoll. I want to fuck you again.” He smirks and when he stands, I realize I’ve already been drafted into tonight’s game.
This is just the start of it. His goal was probably to throw my emotions off and paralyze my mind with the juxtapose of emotions. Just like last night.