CHAPTER THREE: ASSESSMENT
640 Words
Raymond POV
Lisa was quieter than I expected.
Most girls cried.
Some begged.
A few tried to bargain with promises they didn’t understand.
She did none of that.
She sat in the passenger seat like she’d chosen to be there, back straight, chin lifted, eyes fixed on the road ahead as if memorizing her escape route. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, but she didn’t fidget.
Interesting.
I’d bought people before. Assets. Debts with faces. None of them looked this… composed.
“She hates you,” one of my men muttered from the front seat, amused.
I didn’t look away from the road. “Everyone does. It keeps things simple.”
Lisa shifted slightly beside me, clearly listening. She didn’t pretend not to. That was another thing—no false innocence.
The gates to the estate opened automatically, steel sliding apart in silent obedience. The car rolled forward, gravel crunching beneath the tires.
She finally turned her head.
Her breath hitched.
I watched the reflection of her reaction in the window more than I watched her directly. The mansion had that effect on people. Awe. Fear. Greed.
She showed none of those.
Just shock.
“It’s… big,” she said before she could stop herself.
Dry amusement flickered through me. “That’s what money looks like when it doesn’t apologize.”
She shot me a look—sharp, unimpressed. “Must be lonely.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
The car came to a stop. One of my men opened the door for her. She hesitated, then stepped out slowly, eyes scanning everything with quiet alertness.
Like prey that refused to act like prey.
Good. Weak things bored me.
Inside, the staff stood lined up, heads bowed. Lisa noticed. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Do they bow because they want to,” she asked, “or because you scare them?”
I shrugged out of my coat, handed it off without looking. “Does it matter?”
She met my gaze. “It does if you expect me to do the same.”
There it was.
The defiance.
Not loud.
Not stupid.
Calculated.
I stepped closer. She didn’t retreat—but her pulse jumped at her throat. Fear lived under the surface, disciplined and contained.
“You won’t bow,” I said calmly. “You’ll obey. There’s a difference.”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m not a thing.”
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. “You are a debt.”
Her eyes darkened—but she didn’t look away.
Good. I hated cowards.
I gestured for her to follow. “You’ll stay in the east wing. You’ll speak when spoken to. You won’t touch anything you’re not told to touch.”
“And if I don’t?”
I stopped walking. Slowly turned.
The staff froze.
I looked down at her—really looked. Blonde hair pulled back loosely. Sharp mouth. Eyes that carried resentment like a weapon.
“If you don’t,” I said evenly, “you’ll learn why your parents were so eager to hand you over.”
She inhaled shakily.
There it was.
Fear—finally allowed to breathe.
“Understood,” she said quietly.
I resumed walking.
Her footsteps followed.
In my room later, I poured myself a drink and watched the security feed from the hallway camera. She stood outside the guest room, arms crossed, staring at the door like it might bite her.
She looked… furious.
And exhausted.
I frowned slightly.
This wasn’t guilt. I didn’t do guilt. But there was something inconvenient tugging at the edge of my focus.
“She’s trouble,” I muttered to myself.
Which meant she would stay.
I took a slow sip of whiskey.
Lisa wasn’t broken.
Not yet.
And something told me breaking her wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as everyone assumed.
- Writer
