Luke bought a plane ticket for this evening, but when I get to the airport, they tell me that I’ve been rescheduled to an earlier flight. I assume that it’s also his doing. He probably thinks if I put it off any longer, I will lose the courage to go back. To smile for the cameras and pretend.

The flight is short. The ride to the hotel is short. Everything is happening too fast, and I’m right where I don’t want to be again.

I feel sick. So, so sick.

I find myself wishing the power in the building would go out, and I’d get stuck in the elevator, just for the peace it would give me.

I’d welcome the blackness. I’d welcome it with open arms. But I have no such luck.

The elevator goes up without a hiccup. The keycard I had from before works without a hiccup. And everything in the hotel suite is as it was two days ago.

Only it’s not.

Because this time I catch sight of Luke across the room, fucking Megan over the sofa.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he’s dripping with sweat. It isn’t until the door falls back against my foot that they hear me.

Both of them freeze. Megan smiles. Luke looks horrified. And then angry.

He shoves Megan away.

He’s already zipping up his pants and preparing to give chase as I flee to the elevator bank. I press the button frantically, but there isn’t time. He’s coming down the hall. So I make a run for the stairwell, but I don’t reach it.

Luke snags me by the arm and whirls me around.

“It’s nothing,” he tells me. “Isabella, please. I don’t even think of her. I only think of you.”

I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“That doesn’t make it better, Luke,” I tell him. “I don’t want to know what you think of. And I never want to see that again. It’s disgusting.”

“Disgusting?” he repeats. “Is someone jealous?”

God, the man is so conceited that’s the only possible explanation that would make any sense to him. There is no arguing with him, so I get straight to the point.

“I want my own room. One where I’m the only person who has a key.”

He laughs, and it’s cold.

“Yeah sure thing, baby. How do you plan to pay for that? An IOU? It’s a long wait until your check is cut.”

“You’re a pig.”

He tries to drag me back down the hall, but I pull away from him and stand my ground.

“I’m not kidding, Luke. Either you give me my own room, or I go home. I don’t care about the money anymore. You want to sue me? Go ahead. I’m not as stupid as you’d like to believe. There are ways out of this contract.”

His jaw works and his eyes narrow as they fix on my face. I’ve never called his bluff before. But I really don’t care anymore. He can bankrupt me. Ruin my life. Tell the media whatever he wants. I refuse to cave on this.

“You want a world tour?” I gesture back down the hall. “Then take Megan.”

“Megan isn’t the goddamned winner of American Star.”

I cross my arms and refuse to budge. The tension is almost too much. But I can’t do this anymore. I legitimately cannot take one more second in that room with the two of them, and I think Luke knows it.

He slides a hand through his hair and sighs. Then he turns on the charm. The same charm he used to get me into a contract with him in the first place.

“Fine, baby. Fine. I get it. You’re pissed. You need to cool off. I understand. I fucked up, okay. I fucked up. I just… I want you so much.”

“It’s never going to happen, Luke.”

My words roll right off him. He refuses to believe it.

“It will,” he says. “Just give it time.”

“Hotel room,” I tell him. “I want it now.”

“Okay.” He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Just tell the front desk to charge it to my account.”

I turn towards the elevators, and Luke takes a step towards me.

“Don’t follow me, Luke,” I warn him. “Not tonight.”

For once, he listens.

I ride the elevator down to reception and check into a new room on a different floor under Luke’s account. It is quiet and simple.

I lock the deadbolt behind me and turn the shower to scalding hot, stripping off my clothes before stepping into the spray. I stay there until it goes cold. Until my eyes are red and my skin is raw, and my feelings are numb.

I’m exhausted when I brush my hair and put on some face cream. I’m bare. Naked- emotionally and physically. I don’t know how long I stand there staring at myself in the mirror. Hating the reflection of the person staring back at me. Wishing that girl never had any aspirations at all. Wondering if what they say about her is true. Wondering if her father is still alive. If anything will ever be good again.

I snag a pair of shorts and a tank top from my bag and pull them on before dragging myself to the bed.

I may not be able to count on the power in the building going out, but I welcome the blackness that sleep will provide.