Beatrice’s curls fall over her face as she answers the phone, her voice calm and sweet. The dim light brushes against her skin, revealing the slightest tremor beneath her composure. I watch her every move, caught between curiosity and the thrill of what’s unspoken. Each word she speaks feels like a secret meant only for me. The room grows warmer, the silence between her sentences louder. It’s a game of control, of danger, and I can feel every second stretching into something impossible to resist.