“Wait, you’re still married?” “I didn’t even read the prenup. I trusted Matt. He flipped through page by page and told me what each one said, only he left out a few things.”

Valerie thought seriously about simply leaving. Lucca’s outburst had not been, precisely, violence directed at her; but it felt like a threat, or at least a danger. It was, at least, not a strong indicator that she was safe with them. She reflected blackly that it at least helped settle the tension between her concerns about how they had treated her, and her arousal and attraction to them. Despite whatever other ways her mind was twisted and broken, Lucca’s demonstration did not in any way draw her interest.

Valerie swallowed, watching Lucca’s back for the few seconds it took them to cross the kitchen, heading toward the basement.

Valerie and Lucca spent Friday wiping, reinstalling, and configure one of Lucca’s old laptops. The old laptop turned out to be several generations newer than the one Valarie had previously owned, now stashed wherever Dana had stored all of her things.

“Pai—” Valerie coughed, almost choking on the bite of sandwich that she had been in the middle of chewing. She took a swig of water, swallowing down the half-eaten lump of bread and peanut butter.

Valerie’s driver politely and professionally refused to give any meaningful answers to the questions she asked. Some of his responses were monosyllabic yes or no in the least informative way possible. The rest he deflected, doing so clearly, directly, and steadfastly.

The following day was uneventful, and it passed in a haze of melancholy and uncertainty. Valerie and Dana shared no more deep conversations about her feelings, only polite pleasantries. Valerie wished she knew how to break the ice that seemed to be forming between them, but she could never seem to draw Dana out when the woman did not want to speak; and being honest with herself, she still felt hurt and wary.

It was most of an hour before Valerie was able to speak coherently. She was huddled under a blanket— an expensive one, presumably, but itchy wool against her bare skin. She barely noticed.

“Please… Not— not like this?” Dana paused, holding the latex hood. Valerie’s expression was sad— grieving. Dana could tell that the feelings were genuine, that the girl was not bratting. She did not understand why that day was so different from past days, in honest did not understand the plea— not like what?— and she felt heat rising in the back of her neck.

The evening before. Dana and Lucca were in an unremarkable cocktail bar, the closest spot to their client’s office, where they could sneak off for a celebratory drink. They sat facing each other across a small two-seat table, leaning in to hear each other more easily over the din of tech workers drinking their after-work drinks.