She stood with her mouth parted in astonishment as she listened to the load of shit he was spewing in her direction. If it was something as simple as work related he never would have reacted with such volatility the first time she brought it up. He never would’ve said the horrible things he did. Mr. Black wouldn’t have made a damned appearance if the only thing that happened was some suspect got out of hand.

Furious with herself for crying in front of him and giving herself up so easily to him, she fisted her hands. How could she have been so stupid to believe that he would ever play the game her way, despite having signed his name? A sudden burst of courage coursed through her veins as she stomped towards him and pointed a finger in his face.

“You forced me to make the most difficult decision of my life and you never had any intention on playing the game any other way than your own. Did you?” she blared. “You think I’m stupid? That I was born fucking yesterday and can’t tell when you’re lying? I told you I would do anything you wanted and I meant it. I would’ve crawled through glass for you and this is what I get in return? Some made up story after you just told me you’ve dreamt of my tears?” Victor’s eyes widened and his jaw gaped, his silence and idiotic look only riling her more. “Is that how you plan on answering all of my questions? With lies? You signed that piece of paper knowing damned well you were never going to follow through. Well guess what? It goes both ways. If you’re signature doesn’t mean anything, then neither does mine.” Her breathing came out ragged as she backed away, “I should’ve known better than to believe you,” she whispered, “I thought this time maybe…” she felt the tears welling up again. “I thought…” she swallowed hard and put everything on the line. “If you can’t follow the one simple rule I gave you while expecting me to follow your multitude of them, then I’m out. I quit. You can find someone else to put up with your crap because it won’t be me.” A sudden look of panic made Victor bolt upright. “No amount of threats will ever get me to play willingly either,” she yelled when he stood and moved toward her.

With the speed of an Olympic athlete, she bolted from the room, leaving her bag behind. When she arrived at her car and realized she was shoeless and keyless, she screamed an obscenity into the freezing night air. She would rather suffer hypothermia than go back into that house. Hugging her body, she began jogging up the street toward the bus stop, hoping the driver would show her mercy and give her a lift home where she had a spare key hidden.

The wintry air bit through the thin layer of clothing she was wearing, making her nipples tighten and her body shiver. She made it two blocks before she ran out of stamina and began walking with the frigid wind to her back. Eying the street, traffic was slow and there was no bus to be seen. In the distance, she could see the light of the café she loved so much and broke into one last winner-take-all sprint to their door. Bursting inside, a horrified waitress came to her rescue, bringing her a hot cup of coffee and her own coat to warm her, as well as some linen from the back to warm her feet.

Not even then did she break down as her body shook uncontrollably. It was over. Done. And she was glad for it. There would be no more damned tears for that fucked up, delusional, sadistic man. He had screwed her over for the very last time.

She had done her best all day to pretend like what was happening wasn’t really happening. She had allowed Victor to have that piece of herself that Nate wasn’t interested in, all the while telling herself that everything was okay, when it was anything but. She had followed his orders and let him pleasure her while convincing herself that he was really going to follow through when deep down, she knew it would end up like this. Damn her for letting him back into her life. Damn him for making her do what she did Nate and break his heart.

As she stared at the table top, pouting, and sipping on her java, she knew without looking up when Victor slid into the seat across from her by his tell-tale smell.

“You’re so damned impulsive and unreasonable,” he muttered. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Go away. I mean it. I won’t have you. Ever again,” she refused to look up.

“Okay. I get it. I fucked up. Again.” the sound of his lips being moistened and a loud swallow made her eyes flicker upward. “I’ll play by your rules,” his rough, pained voice swept over her.

She drew in a deep breath and held it, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But it’s not a simple rule like you think,” his lips thinned in displeasure. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, but on my terms. On my terms,” he repeated with emphasis as he sat unmoving. “I’ll give you one chance, and one chance only, to come up with a list of questions you want to ask me. You have until tomorrow to present them to me. There’s no adding to the list…” his eyes drifted to his hands as he rubbed his palms together. “There’s no changing the list.”

Elsa’s body sagged with relief because she knew, this time, he was telling the truth by the way his body spoke to her; slumped shoulders, a look of defeat. It was a fleeting moment as he straightened himself up and his eyes darkened to near black.

“Be careful what you choose to ask me, because once you know everything, you may wish you didn’t,” the muscle in his jaw quivered. “...and I don’t know what the consequences will be of your forcing me to tell you my secrets.”

"I'm not afraid of Mr. Black or what secrets he holds. I've already seen him at his worst.”

“Trust me when I say, you haven’t.”

She leaned forward, setting her cup down and held his gaze. “I knew what the consequences would be by agreeing to play your game again. I could've said no, but I accepted them.”

A condescending half-smile touched his lips. "No, you couldn't have."

"Who's ultimately in control?” she glared at him, putting him on the spot. “You or Mr. Black?"

"We’re one and the same.”

She shook her head. Nothing he ever said would convince her of that. “Who, Victor? Who’s in control?”

Giving her a frustrated look, he sighed. “I am. Me. Victor."

"Are you sure about that?” her voice trembled unintentionally. She needed to know if she was going to continue with this.

"No.”

The misery in his eyes said more about his intentions than any words he had spoken.

She reached over the table and laid her hands on top of his, unable to stop herself. No amount of hurt he had put her through would make her hate Victor. Mr. Black, yes, but not Victor. This man. The one sitting in front of her, exposed and unsure of himself. The one conceding when it wasn’t in his nature. This imperfect man agreeing to abide by her one condition.

Her touch made his body stiffen, but she held his hands tighter. "If you want me to play this game, I need to know you're really the one in control."

Slowly and mechanically, he turned his palms up to take her hands into his.

His eyes roamed over her face, his lips forming some silent word before he spoke, "I’ll do my best to be in control. That’s all I can promise. Nothing more.” He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and shook his head. “Nothing I ever do or say is ever going to make up for what I did to you, is it?"

"That’s an impossible question to answer." And it was. There was no telling the future. She hoped he could make up for it, though she doubted he could. Part of her didn’t want him to even try because all it meant was he would put her at risk of having her heart shredded; something she doubted she could recover from again. And she wasn’t ready for that; there was still too much anger and too many other mingled emotions to deal with, including what she was struggling with in regards to Nate.