"You took me at gunpoint. And now you stand at a stove and won't even ask me to stay."

A perfect smile no one looked past.

At the end of the evening a courteous driver takes a few odd turns and lets her see the gun. A few dread hours, and she is in a house deep in a winter forest, nobody for miles.

Then a car key is left on the table between them. She has only to ask, and he will drive her home. He holds a key of his own craft — yet he wants her to be the one to turn it.

All her life she has decided what others are allowed to see, so no one thinks to look beneath. He has looked. He is exact, unhurried, and she should be afraid of his method.

She is. She still doesn't ask.

For readers of The Collector, You, and The Phantom of the Opera.

A slow, talk-driven book: two people in one house. Not a fast read, and the ending is open. Explicit, for adult readers.