"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.