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"Come on," the voice urged.
I opened it and blinked several times. The number 2500 on the other side of the dollar sign stared back at me.
Pete has run it all ever since.
There were soft clicking sounds while he spun the numbers on the lock and when the latch released. He lifted the lid and held up a set of metal handcuffs, putting the box on top of the ottoman.
Beneath my back, I fisted my hands, willing myself to hang on. In addition to trying to avoid speaking, I was trying to avoid coming because he hadn't given permission.
"I have a proposition. Please, hear me out?" "Of course.
Only you. " "Good.