Three weeks passed before Vivienne introduced the blindfold. She did not produce it in the middle of a scene or hold it against Elias’s eyes while asking whether he trusted her. She placed it on the kitchen table beside the leather notebook, where he could examine it without pressure. It was simple. Black fabric. Soft padding. An adjustable strap. Nothing threatening. Elias picked it up and turned it over in his hands. “You’ve never worn one?” Vivienne asked. “No.” “Does the

Elias arrived at precisely seven. Not seven minutes early, hovering in the hallway while she finished preparing. Not seven minutes late, forcing her to wonder whether his nerves had won. Precisely seven. Vivienne opened the door and found him standing where he had stood four nights earlier, dressed in dark trousers and a black shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. His posture was controlled, but she saw tension in the hand holding his overnight bag. “Good even