Rae Bennett sat on his bed, "Wyatt, do you like lions?"
His hair was still dripping with water from the rain, and his eyes were moist, "How did you get in?"
Rae Bennett sat on the bed without shoes, swinging her legs, the black skirt spread on the white sheets, the contrast of colors stark and distinct. The skirt was voluminous, layered over one another, with red embroidery on the lace that spread out like a vivid black rose.
"I told the landlady I wanted to buy this place, and she could name her price."
She paid a deposit, and the landlady happily handed over the keys.
Wyatt Wright frowned, usually polite, he was rarely this cold, "I'll move out as soon as possible."
Rae, as if she hadn't heard him, continued to ask, "Wyatt, do you know about Benson International?"
"I know," the young man stood upright, rigid, "And then?"
She watched the hunting lions on the TV, "It doesn't matter where you move to."
Money is a beautiful thing, it can push the relentless.'
