I hear his footsteps, but I don’t turn around.
All I can do is breathe. Breathe, despite the searing pain in my chest, the fear and despair eating me from the inside.
I have to…
It’s not hard. Probably…
But as soon as his breath touches my neck, I involuntarily whisper:
— You shouldn’t have chosen money. Sex with me isn’t the best offer. Believe me—you seriously miscalculated.
— We’ll see, he says coldly.
And the little snake on my dress begins to slip down, relentlessly, under the pressure of his hard fingers.