Adelia poured two glasses of scotch in her private lounge. The liquid was amber and smooth.
"I have a rating system for my men, Chris," she said, handing him a glass.
Chris took it. He propped his feet up on her marble coffee table, crossing his ankles. "Is that so?"
"A 10 is a perfect gentleman. A 1 is a boring drone. You..." She circled him, trailing a finger across his shoulders. "You're currently a zero."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "A zero?"
"Because you're too arrogant," she whispered, leaning over him until her hair brushed his cheek. "You haven't tried to please me yet. You haven't earned your score."
Chris set the glass down. He reached up and grabbed her wrist. His grip was firm, unyielding.
"I don't play games where the rules are set by someone else," he said.
He pulled her down. She landed in his lap with a gasp. He held her there, his arm like a steel band around her waist.
"In my world, Adelia," he said, his face inches from hers, "you're the one who earns the rating."
Adelia's breath hitched. Her heart did a traitorous flip. She was used to men jumping through hoops for her. This... this was different. This was raw.
Meanwhile, at the airport, Elizabeth was waiting at the arrivals gate. Greg was returning from a two-day "business trip."
He emerged from the crowd, looking tired. He spotted her and smiled, opening his arms wide.
"Liz!" he called out.
Elizabeth watched him approach. She saw the sweat stains on his shirt. She saw the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
He went to hug her. Elizabeth flinched. She took a step back, her body reacting before her brain could stop it.
Greg froze, his arms still open. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Elizabeth lied. She rubbed her temples. "Just a headache. The lights are too bright."
She felt sick. Physically repulsed. The thought of his hands on her made her skin crawl.
"Let's go," she said, turning and walking away without waiting for him.
In the car, Greg tried to hold her hand. She kept both hands on the steering wheel, her knuckles white.
"I heard Chris moved in next door," Greg said, his voice whiny.
"He's trying to provoke me," Elizabeth snapped.
"We should move. Back to the city," Greg suggested.
"No," Elizabeth said. The word was sharp. "I won't let him drive me out of my home."
She realized, with a sinking feeling, that she wanted to stay. She wanted to be near the wall. She wanted to see the Lamborghini in the driveway.
Back at the villa, Chris was in the gym. He was doing pull-ups, the muscles in his back rippling with every repetition.
Adelia watched him from the doorway. She had forgotten her rating system. She was just watching.
Chris dropped to the floor. He wiped his face with a towel and looked at her.
"Go home, Adelia. I have work to do."
"We have a dinner with the Mayor tonight," she reminded him, her voice softer than usual.
"I'll be there," Chris said. "But don't expect me to play the doting boyfriend for the cameras."
He walked past her to his computer. He opened an encrypted channel.
He typed in a code. The screen flashed green.
Transfer Complete: $50,000,000 sent to Blackwater PMC.
He picked up the phone. "Send the team," he said. "The Olson cleanup starts now."
He looked out the window toward Elizabeth's house. He saw her silhouette in the bedroom window.
"You chose the wrong side, Elizabeth," he whispered.
