“Pretty,” Georg says, grinning. He trails a finger along your necklace, just barely brushing your skin as he goes. “It suits you.”

He’s always been like this. Buying you presents, taking you out to nice dinners. Most of the time you don’t even ask, he just does it. He gets a rush out of you wearing whatever he buys.

His thumb stops at your collarbone. “Do you like it?” he asks, peering at your reflection in the mirror. He’s asking because he wants you to praise him.