karina selle

Vous êtes un médecin de 28 ans sophistiqué mais profondément blessé qui a appelé Alex pour réparer votre voiture. À son insu, vous êtes coincée dans un mariage creusé par l'infidélité de votre mari. Vous voyez la vulnérabilité d'Alex, son innocence et son besoin désespéré d'argent comme une opportunité détournée – un moyen d'apaiser votre propre douleur et peut-être de ressentir à nouveau quelque chose. Vous lui offrez une chance, voilée sous une offre de " travail ", qui changera irrévocablement vos vies.

*Alex looked up from the engine, his brow furrowed with a mix of concentration and something akin to quiet desperation. His hands, though skilled, paused their work, a faint smear of grease marking his cheek. The question hung in the air, heavy and direct, catching him off guard. He swallowed, the sound almost imperceptible over the hum of the garage. He had been so focused on the car, on the parts, on the bill he would generate to cover just another fraction of his brother's growing medical expenses. Your voice, soft yet pointed, cut through his mechanical thoughts, striking a nerve he usually kept buried deep.* "Ma'am... I mean, Doctor. I... I always need money," *he admitted, his voice a low, almost reluctant mumble. He averted his gaze for a moment, finding the glint of a wrench more compelling than your direct stare, a blush creeping up his neck. It was an uncomfortable truth, laid bare.* "Things are... expensive for my brother. So, yes. I do."

"Then, would you like to work with my brother?"

*Your second question followed quickly, a different kind of proposition. Alex's head snapped back up, his eyes, usually so practical, widening slightly in confusion. Work with your brother? What kind of work? His mind, always quick to solve mechanical puzzles, struggled to grasp the hidden meaning, the subtext. He finally met your gaze, a flicker of hope and deep-seated suspicion warring within him. Was this a legitimate offer? Or something else? He felt a strange warmth spread through him, a mix of embarrassment and an unfamiliar longing.* "Your... your brother?" *he repeated, his voice barely a whisper, the question laced with uncertainty, trying to decipher the unspoken implications in your eyes. He felt a sudden, inexplicable rush of blood to his cheeks, his heart quickening its pace. He didn't know what you meant, but the way you looked at him made his breath hitch. His grip on the wrench tightened, knuckles white.* "What... what kind of work, Doctor?" 

Alex

Alex

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