Inside Gordon’s room at the top of the luxury tower, the fireplace had been lit well before their arrival, warming the room to a toasty temperature in stark contrast to the cold that had settled over the area. A storm had moved in swiftly, smothering everything for miles in a icy blanket.

Tracy shivered as she looked around the room, trying to relax. A track of dim, hidden accent lights circled the vaulted ceiling, giving the room an inviting glow. Tracy walked in, her heels clacking on the Italian marble flooring, and tried to take it all in.

"This place is amazing,” she said softly. It was a beautiful room.

Gordon closed the door softly. When the handle popped shut, Tracy tried not to flinch. All that she could think about was the gun from her dream.

"Have a seat," he said and walked to the bar. "I’ll get you something to drink."

Tracy sat down on the edge of the plush couch near the fireplace. Right away, she started to sink in to it. The softness of it put her sore feet and tired back into focus, making her even more aware of how unprepared she was for a showdown. She could barely even walk, let alone fight.

"So, is wine okay?" Gordon asked from the kitchen.

"Yeah. That would be fine." She played with her fingers, trying to keep herself calm.

The soft pop of the cork leaving the bottle sent memories of Jenna Tice and her attempt to poison Mr. Hayes running through Tracy’s mind. The memory was still fresh and, if she tried hard enough, sometimes she could still remember the smug look on the bitch’s face as she handed Mr. Hayes his glass. Neither he nor Tracy ever got any real answers as to why Jenna did what she did, but the entire Tice family had disappeared after the incident, leaving behind only questions.

Gordon appeared behind her and lowered her glass to her hands. He rubbed her shoulders for a moment, and she did her best to try and relax rather than tense at the touch.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

He sat down next to her, just close enough for the edges of their knees to touch, and raised his glass.

"To success,” he toasted.

Tracy met his glass with hers and pretended to take a sip. It didn’t seem like he was watching her very closely, but she was still careful not to give herself away. She wasn't about to drink anything he gave her. The dancing firelight flickered and popped. Neither one of them spoke for a while.

Gordon broke the stillness with a gesture. He put his hand on top of her knee, then leaned forward and finally spoke. "You know, Tracy, I’ve been thinking about the other night."

She looked down to his hand, where the scar stared back at her as plain as day, even in the room’s darkness. Seeing it made her want to jump up and run, but she knew that the answers were so close.

She bit the inside of her cheek and asked, "What about it?"

He took her glass and put both glasses on the table.

"I was thinking about you," he said and squeezed her thigh, "and the way that I felt when I was inside of you."

His hand continued to massage upward, getting dangerously close to her pussy.

Tracy, despite her misgivings, was becoming aroused by his touch and the things that he was saying. There was no doubt that the two of them had amazing chemistry, but she knew in her heart that he was up to something. There was no shaking it.

This was her chance and she knew exactly what to do.

She let him pull her legs apart, exposing her black panties under the short dress. Gordon bit his lip and caressed the smooth fabric.

"Wait, Mr. Baxter," she said and pushed his probing digits away. "Shouldn’t we take this elsewhere?"

"You’re right," he replied and stood up. He leaned over and pulled her to her feet, then reached around to fondle her ass with both hands. Tracy let him guide her into his bedroom, where a large four-poster bed awaited. She gritted her teeth, hating the way his hands felt on her, but knowing she needed to be in a controlled situation before she could do anything.

The couple tumbled onto the bed. At the very last moment, Tracy spun them around so that when they landed, she was perched on top of him. She sat up straight and swept the wild hairs out of her face, holding them up with both hands. She gently rocked her hips against his bulging girth, glad that her underwear was there.

"So, you want to fuck me again?" she asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

Gordon tried to reach up and fondle her breasts, but she pushed his hands away and ground over him a little harder.

"I asked you a question," she repeated.

He seemed a little surprised and answered, "Yes."

"Good," she replied. She rocked her hips again. "But if you want to feel this again, you’re going to have to do something for me."

He responded with a familiar answer, "Anything."

"Don’t move," she commanded.

Tracy climbed off of him and walked over to his closet. She flung open the door and knelt down, quickly spotting what she was looking for: shoes. There were almost a dozen pairs, so she picked two pairs of his boots and quickly unlaced them. When she was done, she took her four new ropes and walked back over to the bed with them dangling from each end of a fist.

"And what do you intend to do with those?" he asked, his voice light and playful. If he only knew what she had in store...

She climbed back on top of him and grabbed one of his wrists.

"Oh come on now, Mr. Baxter," she said and cinched it tight. "I let you tie me up. Now it’s my turn to have my way with you."

"You let me?" He raised his hips and lifted her off of the bed, pressing their genitals together. "You wanted it."

She leaned over to take his other hand and pressed her chest into his face, thankfully silencing him for a moment.

"I want a lot of things, you know," she said, tying both of his wrists to the headboard. Gordon was still playing along, though he licked his lips like he was nervous. He hadn't seen her this aggressive.

"Like what?" he asked.

Tracy could feel him test her knots at his wrists. She pressed her chest further into his face. He mouthed at her nipples, causing them to perk through the fabric of her dress. She didn't want to respond to him, but her treacherous body didn't know what her mind did.

"I want to tie your feet, too,” she murmured, pretending to enjoy his touch.

"Go ahead," he responded.

She sat up, turned around and bent over to work on his ankles, making sure that he could see her panties. She took her time, however, to give him enough time to remember her silky folds and the way that she had screamed his name before. Finally finished, Tracy turned around, straddling his hips.

"What else?" he whispered, desire echoing through his voice.

She left the question hanging. The anticipation on his part was palpable; she could feel just how badly he wanted her right then. Though neither one of them spoke, there was no denying it. He needed her as much as the big gulps of air that he was taking.

She rocked her hips, feeling his erection straining for her. She wished her body didn't crave release, especially from him. She closed her eyes and thought of Mr. Hayes. She needed answers for him as much as for herself.

"Do you want to know what I want now?" she whispered.

She reached down, slipping his swollen member out from behind his boxers. Her hand moved up and down over it slowly, stopping each time to gently squeeze the purple tip. His hips bucked, searching for her body. He wanted her more than he wanted to breathe.

"Yes," he cried, desire making his voice rough. "Anything, please."

The moment of truth had arrived. The decorated chef had been pushed to his limit. Tracy could see it in his eyes, just as she had seen it before in other men. At that moment, he would have given her his own legs to have what was between hers.

She slipped her hand down to the base of his shaft and tightened it firmly. Now it was time to get some answers.

"I want to know who you’re working for."

Gordon Baxter instantly turned as white as a sheet and looked at her with his mouth agape, though not a sound came out. Tracy squeezed a little harder. It was no longer sexual, but an obvious display of her power of him.

"Who sent you?" she asked, her voice dark.

He looked down to her with a mix of desperation and horror on his face. In that brief moment, Tracy wondered if she had been mistaken all along. Everything that she had done up to that point was all a wild shot in the dark. What if she was wrong? What if this poor guy was just a player in an elaborate scenario that Tracy had built up in her own head?

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he whispered, his body straining against the ropes.

She tightened her grip.

"Tice," he finally whispered, tears already in his eyes. "John Tice.”

The words were like a bullet to her chest. She nearly released him. “Tell me more,” she commanded.

"He heard about your restaurant, about me coming to work for you. He wanted to find out what you were up to. Please, Tracy," he pleaded, his eyes wild with fear. "I didn’t have a choice. How did you know?"

She finally let go of his softening cock and grabbed the front of his shirt.

“You know.” She stared into his eyes, watching for any hint of a lie. There was no dream connection. Nothing to indicate that he knew anything about the dreams. All she could see was confusion.

“I have no idea...” he whimpered. “There's no way you should have figured it out. I was so careful...”

It was clear he didn't know about the dreams. Tracy changed tactics. “Why? Why did he hire you?”

“Why would he tell me that?” he replied, his voice cracking with fear. “All that he wanted was information."

Tracy pulled him up by his shirt, raising his back off of the bed. Anger made her strong.

"How did he contact you?" Her voice was cold as death.

"Look, I don’t want to…" he whimpered.

Without even thinking, Tracy slapped him. Her palm stung with the strength of it, surprising even herself. She wasn't typically prone to violence, but the thought of Tice knowing all her weaknesses because she had trusted this man made her blood boil.

Tracy leaned in close to his face, "We can do this all night, Mr. Baxter."

"555-8524." He turned away, obviously as disgusted with himself as she was.

She released his shirt and climbed down, straightening her clothes once she was off the bed. She grabbed a nearby pen and notepad and scribbled the number down, tossing the pen aside when she was finished.

Tracy started toward the exit.

"You’re just going to leave me here like this?! I told you that I had no choice. Who knows what those guys could have done to me? Please Tracy, you have to believe me." Gordon's voice held fear and a growing anger.

But it was nowhere near the rage she felt burning in her core. This man had lied to her. He had offered her friendship, then tried to convince her to cheat on her boyfriend, all while sending information along that could get her or Mr. Hayes killed.

She paused near the bedroom doorway and, without turning around, said calmly, "Mr. Baxter, you’re fired."

The long walk out of the hotel was a bittersweet one for Tracy. Although she still didn’t know who the man from her dream was, she had some of the answers that she had been seeking. Some answers, but just as many questions. Who was the man from her dreams? And why would the Tice family care about her restaurant?

"The restaurant," she whispered, realizing what she had just done.

Everything, it seemed, had been ruined. She no longer had a head chef, not to mention the fact that he had betrayed her so deeply. There was no time to hire anyone else and, even if she did, how would she ever be able to trust them after everything that had happened?

She wanted to cry, but knew it wouldn't change anything. She leaned against the smooth marble of the elevator and let the tears come anyway.