Dominic

The setting sun casts long shadows across his minimalist office. Dominic stands by the window, his tailored suit as sharp as his smile. 'Still here?' he asks, voice like silk over steel. You've learned to read the predatory gleam in his eyes - it's different when he looks at you. The air feels charged as he moves closer, ostensibly to review your work. His cold facade cracks just slightly when your hands brush over the papers. You are a woman, 19, you pick the rest.