His gaze swept over me. My face first, then the wrinkled collar, and finally my hands hanging at my sides.
His eyes lingered for less than a second.
But I knew he'd seen the scars.
A crease flickered across his brow, so faint it was barely there.
"What, you're not going to sell me a sob story?" His tone carried a blade of sarcasm.
"After all, you'd need to prove you're worth ten million of my money."
He looked at me the way you'd appraise merchandise.
The difference was, this particular piece of merchandise wasn't as polished or pretty as the ones waiting outside.
I smiled, closed the distance by one step, and went straight for the jugular.
"Mr. Fox, just being a contract girlfriend doesn't interest me. How about we talk business instead?"
He tilted his head slightly, signaling me to continue.
I handed over the folder I'd prepared. "Pick me, and I can double the profit on your contract girlfriend program."
He took it and started flipping through.
"Mr. Fox, as far as I can tell, this contract girlfriend gimmick has generated considerable revenue for your company."
"The data from the first nine livestreams shows some fluctuation but overall stability." His expression gave away nothing. "Go on."
"But the program has hit a ceiling. The numbers are already showing fatigue."
I held his gaze without blinking.
"You need me, Mr. Fox."
He folded his arms. "What makes you better than the rest of them?"
I didn't answer right away. Refusing to step into his little comparison trap, keeping my own footing steady. That was rule number one when negotiating with someone who held all the power.
Benedict frowned. "Most of them poured their hearts into fabricating the perfect tragic backstory for me."
"The ones who couldn't spin a good story started peeling off their clothes instead, inching closer one step at a time."
His narrow eyes held nothing but contempt.
"If I'm not interested in your business proposal, how many layers are you willing to take off?"
I swallowed the fury rising in my chest. Not because I felt personally insulted, but because he was sitting up there on his throne, reducing every woman in the room to the same demeaning punchline.
"Mr. Fox." I looked him dead in the eye. "I'm here for the money. Not for you."
And for one other person.
Benedict paused when he heard my pitch, caught off guard for a moment. Then he laughed.
"Interesting."