GABRIEL'S POV
I watched Ava's face cycle through about fifteen different emotions in the span of ten seconds. Shock, confusion, anger, and finally, explosive rage. I'd been expecting this reaction, of course. I'd just hoped she might be a bit more... reasonable about it.
"What?!” she shouted, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. "You can't just decide we're living together without asking me!"
"I can, actually. It's my apartment." I kept my voice calm, which I knew would irritate her even more. "And according to our contract, I have the right to determine your living arrangements."
"That's not what the contract said!" She was pacing now, her hands flying around as she talked. "It said you'd provide housing, not that you'd be my roommate!"
"Technically, I'd be your landlord."
"Don't get technical with me!" Her cheeks were flushed red, and her hair was coming loose from the ponytail she'd tied it in. She looked beautiful when she was angry, though I doubted she'd appreciate me mentioning that right now. "This is crazy, Professor Thorne. This is absolutely crazy."
"Gabriel," I corrected automatically.
"I don't care what your name is!" She spun around to face me, her eyes blazing. "I care that you've apparently lost your mind and think it's okay to trap me in some weird living situation I never agreed to!"
"You're not trapped."
"Aren't I?" She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You bought me at an auction, made me sign some contract that gives you control over my personal life, and now you're telling me I have to live with you. How is that not trapped?"
I had to admit, when she put it like that, it did sound rather... problematic. But she didn't understand the bigger picture. She didn't know what kind of world she'd stumbled into, or what kind of people were watching her now.
"You don't understand the situation you're in," I said, settling into the leather armchair by the window. "The moment you stepped into that auction house, you became visible to a very dangerous crowd."
"What are you talking about?"
"The men who bid on you. Do you think they just forget about the ones who got away?" I watched her face carefully, seeing the moment my words sank in. "You were lot number seven, Ava. The final lot. The most expensive virgin they've ever auctioned. Do you really think they'll just let that go?"
Her pacing stopped. "They don't know who I am. The whole thing was anonymous."
"Nothing is truly anonymous in that world." I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. "Those men have resources, connections. They'll find you if they want to."
"You're just trying to scare me."
"I'm trying to protect you." The words came out sharper than I'd intended. "The fact that your sister suddenly came into enough money to pay off dangerous people will raise questions. Questions that lead back to you."
Ava went very still. "How do you know about that?"
I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral. "Experience."
"Experience with what? Buying college students at auctions?" Her voice was getting louder again. "How many other girls have you done this to?"
"You're the first."
"I don't believe you."
"Believe what you want." I stood up and walked to the kitchen, pulling a bottle of scotch from the cabinet. "The fact remains that you're safer here, with me, than you would be anywhere else."
"Safer?" She followed me, her voice rising to nearly a shriek. "You think I'm safer living with a man who paid over a hundred thousand dollars to buy me for sex?"
I poured two fingers of scotch into a crystal glass and took a slow sip. "I didn't buy you for sex."
"Then what did you buy me for?"
"To keep you away from the men who would have."
She stared at me for a long moment, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I don't trust you."
"Smart girl."
"Don't patronize me!" She slammed her hand on the kitchen counter. "If you want to sleep with me, why don't you just do that and let me go? Why all this elaborate setup with contracts and apartments and fake jobs?"
The question hit me harder than I'd expected. I took another sip of scotch, buying myself time to think. How could I explain that the thought of touching her while she was terrified and desperate made me sick?
That I'd rather cut off my own hand than take something she wasn't freely giving?
How could I tell her that I'd been watching her in my classes for months, fascinated by her quick mind and stubborn spirit, long before I'd seen her name on that auction list? That finding her there had made me want to burn the whole place down?
I couldn't. So I said nothing.
"Answer me!" she demanded.
Instead, I walked to the living room and flopped down on the sofa, stretching my legs out in front of me. The scotch was smooth, expensive. Everything in this apartment was expensive.
Everything except the girl standing in my kitchen, looking like she wanted to murder me.
"I'm leaving," she announced, marching toward the bedroom where she'd left her boxes. "This is insane, and I'm not doing it."
I heard her dragging cardboard across the hardwood floor, muttering curses under her breath. She appeared a moment later with a box in her arms, heading for the front door.
"Ava."
She stopped but didn't turn around.
"If you leave, I'll take the money back." I kept my voice conversational, like I was commenting on the weather. "Can you give me that?"
She went completely still, the box clutched against her chest.
"The twenty-five thousand you used to pay your sister's debt," I continued. "I'll need that returned if you're breaking our contract."
Slowly, she turned to face me. The color had drained from her cheeks.