Richard S. Trager, R&D

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"Nah," he said, "Something better."

He put his free hand on her bare knee and slid it up her thigh as well, not nudging them further open just yet, but the insinuation was far from subtle.

"When's the last time someone took good care of you, huh?" he purred, leaned in and kissing one of her knees, his eyes staying on her face, "Let me make you feel good tonight, Kitten. Help you forget for a little while."

He kissed further up and started to move his hands up enough to start to hike her skirt. While he had to handle her with care, the fact that she hadn't dumped wine on him or smashed a glass on his head was green light enough for him.

If she left here with a heavy conscience and told her husband about how nasty ol' Rick Trager tried to seduce her in the hopes that her beating would be less severe if she came clean, it would all crumble. He wasn't used to this, wasn't used to being ten steps ahead or reassured that his bank account could bail him out.

Once he got a grip he crouched down in front of her, making himself lower and less threatening. He did, however, put a hand on her knee. A comforting one. More or less.

"I can get you out of this if you let me help," Rick said, his voice low, "Get you away from him. Get you back out there. You could talk to your family again, Kitten. And date a way more handsome guy."

He winked at her, the flirtation incredibly chaste considering his actual mindset. Right, date.

"You don't have to make a decision tonight," he said gently, "Tomorrow night, before he gets back, that’s when you have to decide. We can stop talking about it for now, if you want. I know it’s a lot to process, but I can take care of everything."

He rubbed a thumb against the inside of her knee and smiled at her.

"Shh, it's all right," he said, "Sorry, Kitten. I just don't like thinking about how long he's been doing this to you. I wouldn't do that. I'd get arrested, and I'm pretty sure there's no waltzing in prison. Not the kind I'd enjoy, anyway."

Rick stopped dancing and gently cupped her face. It was like holding onto a butterfly. No matter how careful you were, you were bound to scrap off dust or crinkle a wing.

"Sorry," he said again. He was only sorry that he'd upset her. Beating Mark to death with a baseball bat was one of his top fantasies. Maybe she'd appreciate it when she was still partially under his control. For now, though, it was too overwhelming, "I don't want you to go back to him."

She had a shipping container of baggage and there'd be a mess to clean up at work but he wasn't the wife beater and properly coached, she could sink Mark without it ever really impacting his own life. It almost felt like a setup, like a trap with the softest, sweetest, most irresistible bait. He was going to swallow it whole.

"I can take care of you," he said, "I can even fly you out to New York. You could stay with my sister while I deal with the legal shit."

Nadine would probably be pissed but unlike himself, she felt obligated to perform selfless acts. He was making a lot of promises here but his reticence had melted away and he was letting something else, something more primal, steer the situation. He'd made it as far as he had in his life by being calculating, by never taking unnecessary risks. Business and Law instead of Medical school. Staying single instead of risking his family fortune for a passing infatuation. But he'd stalled lately, hadn't he? He'd been in the same position for years now and he was starting to think maybe they were trying to bury him under the mountain with the rest of the sick shit they did down there. Rick knew he wasn’t exactly a popular guy, just one they had to tolerate because he was so good at his job.

There wasn't a ton of room for waltzing in the living room, but there was enough. He moved the hand on the small of her back just a fraction lower.

"That's when I realized he didn't deserve you," Rick said. The words were impulsive. He'd caught himself off guard and he blanked for a moment, unsure of how to finish that thought. Unsure if he even should finish it, "That was when I realized I wanted you."

He didn't stop dancing, but the steps were automatic, his attention zeroed in on her. Maybe he'd drank more than he should have, but it wasn't like he was exaggerating or feeding her lines. Not now, anyway. It was easier to sleaze and scheme about her sober and at a small remove, but all this was about was getting something he knew he deserved. That he'd known he wanted for years but never acted on.

And now she was here, with him. She'd given him a loaded gun, and while she couldn't pull the trigger on it, Rick wouldn't hesitate. And he wouldn’t miss. Point blank in the back was hard to dodge.

"I'll sic a team of lawyers on that asshole so vicious he'll be lucky if they let him keep his own fucking blood," Rick didn't mean it to come out so heated, but it did. Sure, he was a dirtbag himself, but not all the time. He didn't have to be one, he just enjoyed it. In the right circumstances. This was different. This was more than an assistant or a coworker. He'd fucked her and instead of losing interest, he'd become almost pathetically obsessed. Rick was a covetous man by nature, but this was out of character for him. Or at least it hadn't happened before. Not so intensely. Rick pulled her closer, his voice very low, "If he hurts you again I'm gonna crack him in the ribs a few dozen times with a bat and see how he likes it."

"It's not as fancy, though!" Rick protested, attempting to do one of the positions she'd showed him and failing completely, "Good thing I have other talents, huh? And I'd look great in a leotard, so I've got that going for me."

Rick paused to take another drink and started to go through the music again, his expression sly.

"I don't know swing," he said, "But I do know how to waltz."

He offered her his hand and his sly expression bloomed into his most charming, toothy grin. Rick waggled his eyebrows.

With it’s mutilated face out of her sight, it was easy to feel deceived by the sound of his voice. What had previously been a source of comfort now made her skin crawl with frigid terror. Frightened as she was there was a heavy stone of guilt that sank in her stomach. Shutting her eye, she swallowed hard and tried to keep convincing herself this is not the person you think you know.

It had been almost easy getting out of the strapped chair and diving under the most concealed bed in the area. She had to suspect that he was making it easy for her. Was this some sort of game that they were playing now? See how far she could get before he catches her again? Nicolette considers running for the nearest door again but he’s close. She’s not sure where, but from the coaxing words she figured he was nearby. Fast as she was, could she risk running right into him?