I hate that he can be so f*****g calm, while I feel like I’m about jump out of my skin. Even now, he looks at me without giving anything away. It makes me feel like I’m close to tears or tearing my hair out half the time.
“Perhaps. It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“I’m not like the women you’re used to, you know,” I tell him, trying to get to a place where I feel like I’m solid ground.
“Oh?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. “And what women are those?”
“Women without a moral compass. Women who care about money and power.”
“You don’t care about money or power?” he asks.
I know already that he’s trying to lead me into a trap but I can’t help walking into it anyway. “No, I don’t.”
“That’s because you’ve always had it.” He runs a hand through his thick hair absent-mindedly.
“Okay, yes,” I
