Page 3 of Willing Prey

Her eyes dart to me. They’re big and brown, so big they look like they belong on a horse. Or a deer. She’s gorgeous. There’s no way he doesn’t sleep with her.

“He got rid of them. The first after a week, the second after one hunt.” She misreads the horror on my face. “He fired them, Claire. He didn’t hurt them.”

Her reassurance doesn’t do much for me. Maybe my first thought should have been fear that he’d killed them, and would therefore kill me, but it wasn’t. It was that I might not make the money. I saw the clause in the contract for early termination. It didn’t bother me because I thought it was my out. Not his.

“Why did he get rid of them?”Swallowing hard, I add, “I need to know. I have to make it the full thirty days. You have no idea how much I need that money.”

Margot worries her bottom lip with her teeth. For a second, I think she won’t tell me. Leaving with only a few thousand dollars is sobering thought.

Please.

“You need to be hard to catch. He wants an actual hunt. I think that’s the part he wants the most, honestly. If he catches you too easy, he’ll get bored. He didn’t tell me, but I think that was the problem with the others. They were professionals, but I don’t think they realized he was serious about wanting a real hunt. He needs a challenge.”

Great.

A challenge.

First off, he’s huge. A beast of a man who has to outweigh me by at least sixty pounds. And I’m a sturdy six-foot, so that’s saying something. I met him once before he reached out with this offer, at the Christmas party where Keith overshared.

My first thought upon meeting him was so that’s how Khal Drogo would look shaved and in a suit. The second was holy shit, he is bad at small talk. He’d been intense to the point of awkwardness, focused on my sweater, complimenting the meowy Christmas pun with a seriousness that made me wonder if he thought I came up with it myself. The cerebral, earnest way he’d spoken had been at odds with his rugged, imposing presence, leaving me curious what he was like in the courtroom.

Margot keeps talking. I try to focus. “You know those nature documentaries where there’s a pack of wolves hunting an elk, and the elk won’t go down?” The corner of her mouth twitches like she wants to smile, but she doesn’t. “Even though you know how it’s going to end, you still wonder if the elk might make it. It never stops fighting.”

I nod again, biting the inside of my cheek. There’s a look in Margot’s eyes like maybe we’re not talking about wolves and elk. I’m used to being hunted, but that was by my husband, not a stranger paying for the privilege. Fear makes my chest tight.

What if I’m boring to hunt, or worse, when he catches me, boring to fuck? All the insecurities awakened by Keith’s affair try to swim to the surface, but I hold them underwater. They won’t help me here. Not when I need to be strong. I can do this. I have to do this.

“Treat the hunt like life or death, and he’ll keep you the full thirty.” After that bit of advice, she rises from the bed. Smoothing her hands down the front of her skirt, she gives me a smile that’s 100 percent customer service mode.

“Shane told me to be sure you make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, and there’s a bar in the library. Feel free to use the pool and the gym. Wi-fi and streaming service passwords are in the folder, along with a copy of his STI panel and your safe word.”

“What about his safe word?” I wonder. “Shouldn’t he have one too? Just in case?”

She arches a well-groomed eyebrow at me, and I wonder if I should have already known the answer to that question. “It’s the same as yours, but don’t expect him to use it. I assume he told you that he doesn’t do aftercare?”

I nod.

“Good. Otherwise, it’s jarring to just be … left there.” She looks like she might say more.

Pushing my luck, I ask, “Does he hunt you?”

“Once. I wanted to see what it was like.” She holds my gaze. “And I will never do it again.”

“Why?”

Quiet hangs between us so long I think she won’t answer. When she speaks, her voice is low, the cadence clipped like each word is fighting its way past her teeth.

“It scared me. He scared me.” Shaking her head, she adds, “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying anything against him. Shane is an excellent employer, never anything but professional and fair. I’ve been his personal assistant for years. My little sister will be staying here next month while her apartment gets painted, I’d never let her do that if he was a pervert. Day-to-day, he’s a good guy, safe.” Clearing her throat, she clarifies, “But he’s different in the woods.”

I should take her words as a caution, but an unexpected flicker of excitement stirs. “Did you know he’d be different? Did he warn you?”

A grim chuckle slips out as she shakes her head. “He didn’t proposition me. Truthfully, I had a little crush on him, so I offered. I thought it would be hot sex in the woods with my gorgeous boss. It wasn’t.”

“Doesn’t it make things uncomfortable?” I’m being nosy, but this dynamic is too interesting not to explore. “Still working for him?”

“First week or two we tiptoed around each other.” She shrugs. “But we’re fine now, strictly professional. I’m actually engaged.” Wiggling her bare left hand, she adds, “My ring is getting resized.”

“Congratulations on the engagement,” is all I manage to say. I don’t know how to respond to what she’s told me. It sounds like an absurd employee-employer relationship, but I’m not about to judge. Technically, I’m his employee now, or maybe an independent contractor.

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