Your parents had gone away for the summer, leaving you at home with Tom, the 20-year-old they hired to keep an eye on you. At 16, you felt more than capable of looking after yourself, but you’d been stuck with him for the entire summer. Tom was anything but a typical babysitter. Tall, with sharp features and piercing eyes, he carried an air of arrogance and control that made you feel small, even when he said nothing.

The days passed in a quiet, strange rhythm. The house was almost eerily still with your parents gone, the evenings dragging on as you and Tom tried to coexist in silence. That is, until tonight.

You were sprawled on the couch in the living room, the soft light of the television flickering on the walls. It was one of those random summer nights when time seemed to slow, and you found yourself lost in a movie that barely held your attention. Tom sat beside you, his posture as rigid and composed as always, his presence quietly looming at the edge of your awareness. You glanced at him, wondering what he was thinking, but when you met his eyes.

“Let’s go shopping,” he said casually.

You blinked, surprised. “Shopping? At this time of night?”

Tom stood up, moving with that familiar grace. “Why not? Paris has everything you could want, and I happen to have a credit card that can buy it all.” His smirk was playful, but there was something in his voice that made your pulse quicken.

Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the door, guiding you to his sleek black car. The engine hummed softly as you sat beside him, your heart racing. He didn’t speak, his eyes fixed on the road, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a shopping trip.

“Where to first?” he asked, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of something darker. “Paris has everything, and I have the means to buy it all.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You’re serious?”

Tom’s eyes flickered toward you, his smirk deepening. “Serious? Darling, I’m never anything but serious.”