“Like a whore,” I shot at him. “All I have to do is spread my legs open like a whore.”

He tsked, stepping closer and closer, and once again, I was pressed to the tree. This time, he came even closer until there was barely any space between our bodies, and I could feel his body heat, his muscles.

“Why use such foul words?” he whispered, leaning in until his face was so close to mine. His eyes dropped to my lips and lingered. “Hmm?”

“Your son thinks I'm a whore.”

“Does he? Or is Alexander just being Alexander?”

“And what about you?” I asked in a whisper. “What do...