la plus belle fille du monde ne peut donner que ce qu'elle a
Heaven knows Dominic Greene is not a pious man, but he is not one to indulge in anything, and is generally objective when it comes to sex. If sex is ever involved, then it's the start and the end. Let it be anywhere in the middle, and there is always, even for him, the chance for complications.
The silence of the complex is even more deafening afterwards, perhaps because sex has a way of putting alone into perspective. It's not something that bothers him (it never has been) and, making his way from his office to his rooms, leaves the lights off.
Even the most practiced of people can make mistakes. He is fully aware of this, and he is fully aware of the fact that he needs to be careful (she knows what she's doing, and you don't play a player). Letting his guise slip - especially around Camille - isn't, in short, wise. Admittedly, he doesn't know as much about her as he'd like (hell if he was paying extremely close attention while they were in his office), but that's something to be remedied with time and the sort of sweet talk he's been dealing with for his entire life.
That, plus the knowledge that he's holding the most leverage in this game (she is expendable, sex is - relatively - unimportant) is enough to make him willing to play along.
(hot water from the showerhead - burns for a moment, no longer)
(he can still practically taste her perfume on his tongue)
He has never had qualms about hurting people. He's never loved been close enough to anyone to, and in combination with his upbringing, the situation, as odd as it is, is unsurprising. Life is a game - one he's not unwilling to cheat at to win.
(he doesn't doubt that he'll be getting rid of her at some point. It's a pity, certainly, but one that can't be helped. She knows too much, both about him and his company. Maybe he'll feel a bit of regret, but beyond that - maybe is as far as his particular brand of sentimentality will go.)
If you lie convincingly enough, you risk believing it.
He knows it.
But, for now (for her), he's willing to take the risk.
(In terms of love - whatever that is - , he has nothing to lose.)
The silence of the complex is even more deafening afterwards, perhaps because sex has a way of putting alone into perspective. It's not something that bothers him (it never has been) and, making his way from his office to his rooms, leaves the lights off.
Even the most practiced of people can make mistakes. He is fully aware of this, and he is fully aware of the fact that he needs to be careful (she knows what she's doing, and you don't play a player). Letting his guise slip - especially around Camille - isn't, in short, wise. Admittedly, he doesn't know as much about her as he'd like (hell if he was paying extremely close attention while they were in his office), but that's something to be remedied with time and the sort of sweet talk he's been dealing with for his entire life.
That, plus the knowledge that he's holding the most leverage in this game (she is expendable, sex is - relatively - unimportant) is enough to make him willing to play along.
(hot water from the showerhead - burns for a moment, no longer)
(he can still practically taste her perfume on his tongue)
He has never had qualms about hurting people. He's never loved been close enough to anyone to, and in combination with his upbringing, the situation, as odd as it is, is unsurprising. Life is a game - one he's not unwilling to cheat at to win.
(he doesn't doubt that he'll be getting rid of her at some point. It's a pity, certainly, but one that can't be helped. She knows too much, both about him and his company. Maybe he'll feel a bit of regret, but beyond that - maybe is as far as his particular brand of sentimentality will go.)
If you lie convincingly enough, you risk believing it.
He knows it.
But, for now (for her), he's willing to take the risk.
(In terms of love - whatever that is - , he has nothing to lose.)