“Violet!” I shook her hard until her eyes rolled forward in their sockets, slowly returning to normal.

“What’s wrong with her?” Emma asked from the couch, suddenly way more sober than she’d been a minute ago.

“I don’t know, Emma,” I snapped. “I’m not a doctor.”

“I’m okay,” Violet moaned. She was still on the floor, but she was trying to sit up now, and I reached down, hauling her up and helping her onto the sofa.

“What happened?” I asked. I sat down next to her, stroking her hair and trying not to look away from her face in horror. Her bottom lip was split, and the blood had begun to dry and crack. The bruise under her eye was yellow and green, with a tinge of purple that made it clear she was going to have a black eye.

Emma handed Violet the glass of water she’d been drinking. “Here. Have some water.”

Violet looked at it doubtfully.

“It’s fine,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not sick or anything.”

Violet took the water and had a sip, her fingers gripping the glass tightly, her hand shaking.

“Can you tell us what happened?” I asked gently.

Violet took in a shuddering breath. “Conner and I came back to the city.” Her hand wandered up to her shoulder, where the top she was wearing – a black cotton sweatshirt that dipped low over one shoulder – had been ripped. “He had to work, and he wanted me with him.”

I tried not to react to her statement. He wanted me with him.

I resisted the urge to ask her what she wanted, knowing that now wasn’t the time.

“But then as soon as we got back, Conner got called to LA for a meeting,” she said. “He told me I could stay at his apartment while he was gone.”

He told me I could. Jesus, what was with these Sheer brothers and their bossy, controlling attitudes? I felt myself getting annoyed, and I tried to control my emotions. Getting all worked up wasn’t the way to help Violet.

“He left this afternoon. So I worked out at the gym in his apartment, and then I was on my way out to the bodega on the corner.” Violet’s fingers twisted together, her hands shaking. “I wanted some ice cream, but before I could get there, I felt like someone was following me.” Her hands twisted tighter. “A man, wearing a black leather jacket.”

A black leather jacket.

Landon.

Bile rose in my throat and my stomach knotted.

“He was behind me, and he just…he was making me uncomfortable, you know? And so I crossed the street, hoping he would pass by. But he didn’t.” Her eyes filled with tears and her voice cracked.

“It’s okay,” I soothed, rubbing her back. “It’s okay.”

“I ducked into a bar,” Violet said. “Because I wanted to get away from him, and I figured if he wanted to do something, he wouldn’t do it in front of a bunch of people. But he kept following me all the way through the bar, until finally we were in the back, by the restrooms.”

Her eyes went glassy now, remembering, and my heart squeezed. I reached for her hand. It was cold and limp in mine, and I rubbed it, trying to warm her up.

“I was trapped. So I ducked into this door marked employees only. I thought there would be people in there, but it was a women’s room. A bathroom.” She licked her bottom lip, wincing as she tasted the blood. “He followed me in there, and he… he slammed me up against the wall. He had a gun.”

Emma gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, but I stayed silent, biting the inside of my cheek, fighting to stay calm.

“He pushed it into my back, and then he slammed me to the ground. He put his foot on the back of my neck, and he told me to stay away from Conner. He said ‘Stay the fuck away from him, or next time, you won’t see me coming.’” Her voice caught at the last part, and her eyes filled with tears.

I rubbed her back, feeling sick.

“He pulled me up by the back of my hair, and slammed me into the paper towel holder.” Her hand went to her eye. “I think that’s how my eye got black and blue.” She began to cry now, and I rubbed her back harder, feeling helpless.

“We have to call the police,” I said.

Emma nodded and pulled her cell phone out from inside her left boot, the place she always kept it when we were out. Apparently being faced with Violet’s crisis had sobered her up enough to remember where it was.

“No!” Violet said, shaking her head. “No police.”

“We have to,” I said.

“No. I didn’t… I mean, we can’t. I don’t want the police involved.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “We have to call the police.”

“Let me talk to Conner first,” Violet said. “Please.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, the sick feeling I had deepening. “Violet, did Conner do this to you?”

“What? Of course Conner didn’t do this to me!” Violet sounded outraged, but

Emma and I exchanged a worried glance.

It would make sense. I knew nothing about Conner Sheer except for the fact that he’d been involved in some kind of stalking case when he was younger, and that he apparently thought it would be a good idea to ferret Violet off to Vermont when he found out that they might be brother and sister.

At the very least, his judgment was dodgy. At the very worst, he was dangerous.

“If he did, Violet, we can talk about it, we can figure out – ”

“Conner and I might have a complicated relationship, but he would never lay a hand on me, he would never hurt me.” She glared at me, the pain and fear in her eyes that had been there just a moment ago now replaced with anger. “In fact, if we want to worry about one of the Sheer brothers, don’t you think Landon is the one we should be talking about?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“Conner told me the kinds of things Landon’s into,” she said. “So if we should be suspicious of anyone, it should be him.”

My mouth went dry. The kind of things Landon’s into. The punishments, the whips, the cuffs. Conner had told her. My cheeks flamed.

“Violet, Aven just wants to make sure everything’s okay,” Emma piped up helpfully from the couch, saving me from having to say anything. It was the right sentiment, but the wrong tone. The alcohol was still flowing through her veins, and she was still very buzzed. “My friend Marcella was in an abusive relationship, and now she’s married to a doctor.” She delivered this information almost gleefully, and I closed my eyes.

Violet stood up and shot a dirty look at Emma. “Why are you even in this conversation?” she asked. “When I got here, you were sprawled out on the couch drunk, and now you’re suddenly giving me advice?”

“Sorry for worrying about you,” Emma shot back. “Sorry for trying to help.”

“You’re not helping,” Violet said. “You’re just being…” She trailed off, apparently deciding that Emma wasn’t worth it. She turned back to me. “Look, Conner would never hurt me. And if he had, I certainly wouldn’t have lied about it, and made up some story about a guy accosting me in a bar.”

“What did the guy look like?”

“He was big,” she said. “Like I said, black leather jacket.” She shook her head and sat back down next to me. “I didn’t get a good look at him, he was mostly behind me.”

Landon.

I hated myself for thinking it, but I kept thinking back to the conversation I’d heard him having with his father, the one where Victor Sheer had instructed Landon to take care of it.

I’d thought he was talking about making Conner break up with Violet, not assaulting her.

That old familiar feeling came back, the feeling I’d had the first night I’d met Landon, the night I saw Violet’s scarf behind his bed. Stay away from him. He’s dangerous.

Deep down, I didn’t think there was any way Landon would hurt anyone.

But I had marks from his cuffs on my wrists, and marks from his belt on my ass.

And how could I really know anything about him, or believe anything he said? He’d told me he was falling in love with me, and then he took off.

“What?” Violet asked, seeing the look on my face. “What are you thinking?”

“We need to call the police,” I said.

“No!” Violet stood up again, still wavy on her feet. “We can’t. I need to call Conner first. I need to just wait until –”

“You need to call Conner first?” I shook my head. “Violet, that’s ridiculous.”

“Brothers and sister need to band together in times of heartache,” Emma said from the couch, and burst into giggles.

Violet shot me a dirty look. “You told her?”

“Both of you just stop!” I said. “I need to think.” But before I could decide what to do, my phone rang..

Landon.

His name burned across the screen, almost accusatory. He’d programmed it in, and every day he hadn’t called, I’d run my finger over the delete button, wanting to erase him from my phone hoping it would erase him from my heart. Of course, in the end, it wouldn’t have mattered, because I already had his number committed to memory.

“Who is it?” Violet demanded, looking over my shoulder. “Landon? Answer it!”

“Hello?” I stood up and walked into the kitchen, out of earshot of the two of them. It was a risk leaving them alone, with Emma in her drunken state and Violet in her weakened one, not to mention their history and how they’d already starting sniping at each other. But I needed to figure out what the hell was going on, and I needed to do it away from the two of them.

“Aven.” His voice was low, melodic, and my core tightened, my breath hitching in my chest. With just one word, I could already feel his hands tightening around my waist, could feel his lips brushing over my neck, his fingers pushing up inside of me. My hand tightened around the phone.

“Are you calling to tell me who it was that accosted my sister in a random bar and left her with a bloody lip and a black eye? Because if not, I’m hanging up.”

“I am downstairs. Buzz me in.”

“You’re what?” Sure enough, the sound of the buzzer echoed through the apartment, just like it had the other night, the other time he’d shown up here unannounced.

“No.” I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “No way. I’m not letting you in until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Aven. Buzz. Me. Up.” His voice was more insistent now, and my nerve endings burst alive, already conditioned to respond to his commands. I hated him.

“No. I’m calling the police.” I hung up. Instantly, a wave of regret rushed through my body. But I ignored it.

This was serious. This wasn’t about Violet taking off with some guy, this was about people getting hurt.

I came back into the living room.

“I’m calling 911,” I announced, already starting to dial.

There was a sharp knock on the door.

Violet and I glanced at each other warily, and Emma, who’d been dozing on the couch, startled.

“Aven.” Landon’s voice barked through the thin door. “Open the goddamn door.”

Violet looked at me, questioning.

I shook my head.

“Aven, open the goddamn door or I will break it down!”

“He totally will, too,” Emma said, nodding. She wiped a bit of drool from her mouth, sounding completely unconcerned by the fact that there was a man outside who may have been responsible for hurting my sister and was now threatening to break down our front door. “I read an article about him in Forbes that said he’s totally ruthless, and he doesn’t give a fuck about anything.”

I sighed and made my way to the door.

“What do you want?” I asked without opening it.

“To talk. Now open the fucking door.”

I hesitated. My head and heart locked into the now-familiar battle, the one where my heart insisted that Landon would never hurt me, that underneath the demons and darkness that were his façade, there was goodness, a man who was capable of real love, who was capable of really loving me.

But my brain told me that was all foolish fantasy, the thoughts of a girl who wanted to believe in romance, not a woman who knew better than to be seduced by good looks and money and promises.

“Aven. So help me God, I will –“

I opened the door.

I stepped into the hall quickly, and shut the door behind me. If he was the one who’d hurt Violet, I wasn’t going to let him near her.

“What happened to Violet?” he demanded.

“How do you know something happened to her?” I shot back. My heart was hammering a staccato beat against my ribs, so hard I could feel the blood whooshing through my veins.

“Because my men called me and told me.”

“Your men?”

“The men watching your apartment.” He sounded impatient, as if this was something that had been explained to me a thousand times before, instead of information I was learning literally as he said it. “They called and alerted me to the fact that Violet was here, and that she appeared to be in distress.”

“You have men watching my apartment?” I glanced down the stairs behind him, even though I of course couldn’t see outside, not from here. But I imagined them out there, dressed in black suits, a constant stream of dark sunglasses and frowns, all of them watching me without my knowledge.

“Yes.” Landon stiffened, his shoulders pulling back, making his height even more intimidating than usual.. “And I must say that your activities tonight are not acceptable.”

“What activities?”

His gaze skittered up my body, taking in the dress I was wearing -- a short, body-hugging black number that I’d (of course) borrowed from Emma.

His jaw tightened in disapproval, and he steepled his hands together tightly before releasing them again, as if he was trying to keep himself from doing something else. Punishing me?

“You have some nerve, Mr. Sheer,” I spit. “Coming here and making comments about what I can and can’t wear. Sorry, but you lost that privilege when you didn’t call me after you – ” I stopped myself. There was no point. This wasn’t about him and I, or us, if there even was an us.

This was about Violet, and making sure she was safe.

I thrust my chin in the air. “Violet was followed tonight, she was pulled into a bathroom of a bar where she had a gun pulled on her. She was thrown to the ground, slammed into the wall, and told to stay away from your brother. Were you the one who hurt her?” I said it all at once, no hesitation.

Landon’s eyes widened. “Is that what you think?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Jesus, Landon, my sister is in there with a black eye and a swollen lip. Do you know who did it or not? Because if not, I don’t see the point of you being here.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Really? Because it seems a little suspicious that you would show up here right after she was hurt.”

“I told you I was –”

“Yeah, I know, you were having my apartment watched. That’s a great excuse, Landon. ‘I didn’t accost your sister and threaten her with a gun, because I was busy doing something equally creepy.’”

“Dammit, Aven, if I’d hurt her, why would I show up here? Does that make any sense whatsoever?”

He took a step toward me, his eyes imploring, and the scent of his cologne hit me. He looked every bit the part he did the first night I’d met him, the powerful executive who was used to getting everything he wanted – perfectly tailored black suit, crisp white shirt, cufflinks that sparkled even under the dim lighting outside my apartment.

“I need you to leave,” I said. “I need to call the police.”

I reached for the doorknob, ready to go back into the apartment, but he put his hand over mine, stopping me. His touch sent wildfires through me, and my resolve instantly weakened.

“Aven,” he whispered, and I hated the way my name sounded on his lips, hated that it immediately made my nerve endings rise to attention, that it made my core clench and my panties damp.

“Stop saying my name.”

“Please,” he said. His other hand reached for my hip, turned me around gently until I was facing him, forced to look him in the eye. “You have to believe me. I would never hurt your sister.”

“Then who did?”

Landon’s jaw hardened, awareness dawning on his face.

“What?” I demanded. “What is it?”

“My father. He knows about Violet and Conner, that they might be brother and sister. He warned Conner to stay away from Violet, but Conner wouldn’t listen.”

“You think your father hurt Violet?” Bile rose in my throat. Victor Sheer was a force to be reckoned with. He had money and power, and who knew what else. If he wanted Violet to stay away from Conner, he had the ability to do whatever it took to make that happen.

“No.” Landon shook his head. “One of his men.” Landon was angry now, I could tell. The same mental picture of men in dark suits and sunglasses passed through my mind, and I tried to ignore it, not wanting anything connecting Landon and his father.

“And you knew nothing about it?” I pressed, wanting to hear him say it, needing to hear him say it, even if I wasn’t sure I would believe it.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, then reached up and ran his finger over my cheek. I reached for his hand, gripping his wrist. I wanted to believe him so badly, but my head was swimming now, taken over by the force that he was, by the rip current that pulled me under every time he was near.

“Landon,” I said. “Landon.” I wanted to ask why he hadn’t called, why he’d left me in this limbo torture, but I didn’t.

“I don’t want to keep secrets from you,” he growled.

“Yeah?” I said, and I ducked out from under his arm before he could stop me and whirled around. I crossed my arms over my chest. “Then don’t.”

It was a test, a confrontation, a challenge.

Landon’s eyes went dark and hooded, and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

He put it on speaker, and a second later, a man’s voice answered.

“Landon.” Victor Sheer was annoyed, short, impatient. “I’m in the middle of dinner with the DA. What is it?”

“You want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Landon growled.

“You called me, Landon,” the older Sheer said. “The only thing going on here is that I’m giving my drink order.” The line went quiet for a minute, and in the background I could hear the muffled sound of conversation and the din of silverware. Then Victor’s voice, ordering someone to get him a double bourbon, neat.

When he came back on the line, he was even more annoyed.

“Is that why you called? So you could accuse me of things using ambiguous language, or is there something specific you’d like to discuss with me?”

“Violet Courtland. She was assaulted tonight.”

“I know nothing about that.”

“Whoever attached her told her to stay away from Conner.”

Victor sighed. “It was probably a jealous lover. You know your brother, leaving a string of broken hearts in his wake. Of course, with Conner, you can never be –“

“It wasn’t a fucking jealous lover. And if you think I’m going to stand by while you hurt people I care about, then you’re wrong.”

Victor’s laugh came through the phone, and it sent shivers up my spine. “People you care about?” There was a pause, and a rustling noise, as if Victor was moving away from the table, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower. “You’ve known these people for hardly any time at all, Landon. And I don’t know why you and your brother are so determined to be with these women, why you’re so determined to ruin everything we’ve built, but they must have pussies of gold.” He laughed again.

“If you talk about them like that again, so help me God – ”

“You’ll do nothing, Landon. You’ll do nothing or these people you care about so much will regret having ever met you and your brother.” And then the phone went dead.

Landon slipped the phone back into the pocket of his perfect suit, his hand shaking just the tiniest bit.

If there had been any question in my mind about him knowing who’d hurt Violet before he’d come over, it was gone.

The look on his face couldn’t have been faked.

“So what now?” I asked.

“Now I don’t leave your side until I figure out what the fuck is going on.”

And with that, he reached past me, opened the door, and walked into my apartment.

* * *

Emma was sprawled on the couch when we came in, and she stood up, stumbling in her boots and almost falling over before she was able to right herself.

“Oh, hi,” she said brightly, like we’d been having a party and not helping my sister who’d been violently assaulted. “Hi, Landon! Remember me? Emma? Aven’s roommate?”

“Yes.” He looked at her, his cool blue eyes taking in the state she was in, and then glancing at me with disapproval. I knew already what he was thinking. That Emma was drunk, and I’d been out with her, dressed like I was.

But I refused to be made to feel bad.

He hadn’t called me in three days.

If I wanted to go out and have fun, that was my right.

Landon then turned his attention to Violet, who was still sitting on the couch. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I think so.” Her hands twisted in her lap. “I mean, physically I am. I talked to Conner, he’s on his way home from California.”

“We should call the police,” I tried.

“No!” Violet pleaded. “Please, Aven, it will just make things worse.”

Landon walked closer to her and studied her face. “She needs these cuts cleaned out,” he ordered. “Can you follow my finger?” He moved his index finger back and forth in front of her face, then turned away. “She doesn’t have a concussion. You should get her to bed.”

“Good idea,” Emma chirped. She was back on her phone now, scrolling through her instagram account. “You should definitely get right to bed, and not be up wandering around, getting into things.”

Landon ignored her. “Where is your room?” he asked me.

“Down the hall, on the right.”

“I’ll wait for you there.”

* * *

I helped my sister clean out her wounds, then gave her a clean t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

Emma had gone to bed, so I set Violet up on the pullout couch with an ice pack for her eye, Netflix on the tv, and a fresh glass of water on the table next to her.

“Do you have everything you need?” I asked, pushing her hair back from her forehead softly.

She nodded. “I’m going back to Conner’s in the morning,” she said firmly.

“Violet –“

“Aven, please,” she said. “I’m sorry for everything, really, I am. I shouldn’t have just taken off like that without telling you, but when Conner told me we might be related, I was scared. And embarrassed, and grossed out and just…” She trailed off. “We’re getting the DNA results tomorrow, did you know that?”

I shook my head.

“And then this whole thing will be over.” She sounded so confident, so sure of herself that I sighed. This was typical Violet. – always the optimist.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” she murmured sleepily, handing me the ice pack as she settled down underneath the blanket I’d given her, the comforter I’d kept and taken from the lake house, the one our mom always gave us when we were sick because she said it had special healing powers.

“Do you want me to sleep out here with you?” I asked

“No.” She shook her head. “No. Go to Landon, Aven. He loves you.”

“No,” I scoffed. “Trust me, he doesn’t.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “Trust me, he does.”

She gave my hand a squeeze, and I wanted to ask her how she knew, if Conner had said something to her, but a second later, she was fast asleep, her chest rising and falling in tandem with her breathing.

I left her on the couch and headed down the hallway.

Emma’s room was dark, but she’d left the door open just a crack, and I peered inside.

She was sprawled out on her bed in just her underwear, snoring softly, her hair spread out around her like a halo. I checked to make sure she was on her back, and then left her.

When I got to my room, Landon was sitting on my bed.

He was still in his expensive suit, and he looked out of place here – too large, too overpowering for the space. I was suddenly aware of every little thing about my bedroom, every little detail that seemed out of place or not good enough.

The tiny twin bed, the clothes overflowing from the hamper, the cordless blinds I’d been so proud to hang up by myself, but now just looked cheap and out of place.

“They’re both sleeping,” I said, trying not to think about the rooms Landon was used to being in, the sheer opulence of everything. I was sure the women he’d been with had the same kind of rooms, filled with fancy furniture and cashmere blankets and windows with sweeping views of the Manhattan skyline.

The only window in my room looked out onto the building next door.

“Good.”

“You can go now, “ I said. “Everything’s fine.”

“I’m not leaving.”

I crossed the room to the hamper and pushed the clothes inside. Something about him being in my room was extremely unnerving, almost too intimate.

“It’s really not necessary for you to stay.”

“I think it is necessary,” he said. “Your sister was attacked tonight.”

“I’ll lock the doors.”

“I don’t think I can trust you to keep yourself safe.”

“You don’t think you can trust me?”

“No.” He shook his head, obviously missing the accusation in my tone. “Not when you go out looking like that.” His eyes slid up my body again, taking in the short dress I was wearing.

“I can go out looking any way I damn well please,” I said.

His eye twitched. “Do you know how I was able to get here so quickly, Aven?”

“You told me. Because your men we were watching my apartment, and you saw Violet when she got here.”

“Yes, that’s true. But I was already on my way here. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because my men had seen you, Aven. They’d seen that you’d been out, that you were dressed provocatively, and they said you’d been talking to boys.” He spit out the word boys, as if it even saying it were some kind of assault on his intelligence.

“I wasn’t talking to boys,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What is this, high school?”

“Don’t talk back, Aven. Or this will end up being much worse.”

“What will?” My heart was thrumming.

“What I’m about to do to you.”

My pulse leapt against my wrist, and warm, throbbing heat collected and slipped down between my thighs, dampening my panties.

“No.” I shook my head. “No, that’s not going to happen.”

“Isn’t it?” he said, one side of his mouth quirking up into a rueful smile. “Come here, Aven.”

“No.”

He stood up in one smooth movement, removed his suit coat and placed it across my desk. My desk was so tiny that the arms of his coat hung over the edges, draping toward the floor.

Then he began to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt, taking his time, his movements methodical and deliberate. He removed his cufflinks and set those down on the desk next to his coat. The room had gone quiet, so quiet that every one of his movements was amplified, and the clink of his cufflinks against the desk sent fear skittering up my spine.

“If you do not come here, Ms. Courtland, I will be forced to come and get you. And I don’t think we want that, now do we?”

“No, sir,” I said, because I knew he would, knew he would come and pick me up if he decided to, knew he would have his way with me.

Because when it came right down to it, I was powerless.

He was a force to be reckoned with, and my body was responding to his commands, to the sight of him standing there, tall and strong and dominant, his deft fingers rolling up his shirtsleeves, revealing tan, muscled forearms.

What did it matter? I thought. He might not have loved me, but why did sex and love have to be so intertwined? I couldn’t imagine anyone else touching me the way he did, bringing me to the same heights of pleasure, making me feel ecstasy I never could have imagined existed.

And if he was just going to leave me again, shouldn’t I get something out of it too? Shouldn’t I get a release, a reprieve, let him take over and lose myself in him one more time?

He sat back down on the bed, his eyes moving over me hungrily.

“Come here, Ms. Courtland, so I can take you over my knee.”

My own knees shook as I walked toward him. He took me around the waist, pulled me to him, his hands moving over my hips as he licked his bottom lip. Lust burned between us, so strong that for a second, I was sure he was going to take me right there, was going to throw me onto the bed and fuck me until I was limp.

But instead, his eyes glinted and he pushed me over his knee.

His hand brushed my hair back from my neck, and his other hand rested on my backside.

“Do you know what it does to me, imaging you out in a dress like this?”

“No, sir.”

His left hand slipped down to the back of my thighs, and his nails trailed softly over the skin there, the light touch sending shivers of anticipation through my entire body.

“It drives me insane,” he said, and now his right hand was sliding down the front of my dress, over my nipples. “Thinking about men looking at you.” His fingers tightened around my nipple and he twisted, so hard I gasped.

Then he brushed his lips against the nape of my neck, and leaned down, whispering right in my ear. “You are mine.”

His fingers pinched my nipple harder, and eyes filled with tears, because of the pain, but also because I couldn’t tell what this was, couldn’t tell if this was real. Why did he keep saying things like that if he was just going to disappear for days? I pushed the thoughts out of my mind. This was about sex, I told myself. Sex and nothing else.

“Say it.”

“I am yours.”

“Good girl.” He pulled up the back of my dress, leaving my ass in the air, covered by nothing except the tiny thong I was wearing. A guttural sound emanated from his throat. “You’re wearing the thong from Vermont.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The one I gave you.”

“If you call leaving it upstairs in a bedroom giving it to me, then yes.”

He twisted the material hard, pulling it taut against my skin, so that it bit into me. I grimaced and tried not to cry out.

“The lingerie I give you is for my eyes only, Ms. Courtland.”

“Then maybe you should have been around to see it.”

This retort earned me a slap on my ass, hard and stinging.

I gasped as he twisted the satin material of the thong tighter, so tight I knew it was going to leave a nasty indent in my skin.

“Why do you insist on disobeying me?” he demanded.

“Because your rules are confusing,” I answered honestly. “They make no sense and they – ” A string of blows reigned down on my ass, hard and fast, three, four, five, so many I lost count as the pain pulsed through my body in rippling waves, leaving me speechless. It was the hardest he’d ever spanked me, and even though his belt and his whip may have left more pain, this was intense in a different way, the pain somehow more intimate as it was given to me by nothing but him, skin to skin.

My legs went limp as I waited for the endorphins to take over, for the pain to dissipate into a heady pleasure.

But just as it was, he began to spank me again.

“Do you understand when I tell you that you will not wear lingerie I give you out when you are flirting with other men?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who was the man you were flirting with?”

I thought about telling him I wasn’t flirting with anyone, but then I remembered he’d had me followed. I tried to conjure up the memory in my mind of who I’d been taking to at the bar, but it was grainy at best, half because of what had happened with Violet, and half because the guy had been so forgettable.

“He was no one,” I said. “Just some guy who was there. His friend was buying Emma drinks.”

“Did you drink, Aven?”

“A little.”

He spanked me again and then pulled me up so that I was sitting on his lap sideways, my legs draped across him.

His cock was rock hard, straining his pants and pushing against my ass.

He pulled me into a kiss, his tongue parting my lips slowly, kissing me languidly, setting me on fire.

His hand stroked my bare thigh, moving up over my hip, skating over my rib cage until he reached the top of my dress. He separated the fabric from my skin slowly, pulling it down until I was in just my bra.

He lowered his head and sucked my nipple through the lacey material, and I gasped.

“You cannot do things like that,” he said, cupping my chin, running his finger over my cheekbone. “It’s dangerous.”

I looked away.

“Aven,” he said sharply.

“Then why didn’t you call?”

“Dammit, Aven.” He flipped me over, dropping me onto the bed, his eyes wild, the expression on his face like a caged animal. “Do you understand that when I tell you something, you will do it, no questions asked?”

“Then do what you promised,” I said. “You said you would call, and you never did.”

He began to unbutton his shirt, quickly, and then he was yanking at my dress, pulling it off me, leaving me in just my bra and panties.

“No,” I said, scrambling toward the top of the bed. “I want to talk about this.”

He growled and grabbed my legs, pulled me down the bed toward him roughly, so rough that the comforter brush-burned my skin.

He pried my thighs open, his fingers digging into me – hard -- and then his mouth was down there, between my legs, on my pussy through my panties. A moan escaped my lips as his end-of-day stubble brushed against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. His tongue licked a straight line up my slit, and then he pushed my thong to the side impatiently. He slid a finger up inside of me before pulling it out slowly, and I watched as he sucked it into his mouth.

“Your body will never lie to me, angel,” he whispered. “You’re so fucking wet. You like this. You want this. You can tell me you don’t, but I know better.” And then he was back down there, his palm flat on my lower belly as he held me down and began to fuck me with his tongue.

I gasped and writhed on the bed, wanting him to stop and wanting more than anything for him to keep going.

Our gazes locked, his eyes blue and deep and stormy, his stubble-rough cheeks still brushing against the insides of my legs as his tongue and mouth and jaw worked in tandem. One hand still held me down on the bed, while the other forked my pussy, his thumb brushing over my exposed clit.

“Do you enjoy torturing me, princess?” he growled after what seemed like forever.

“Kind of,” I breathed, and his blue eyes hooded.

He blew softly on my clit, then delivered a stinging slap to my spread pussy.

I gasped.

“Still enjoy it?” he growled.

“I…” I wanted to say I did, but I was breathless.

“Do you?” he demanded, and another stinging slap was delivered to my pussy.

“No, sir.”

“Again.”

“No, sir.”

“No, sir, what?”

“No, sir, I won’t torture you again, please, just…” I couldn’t take it anymore, what he was doing to me, the way his fingers were brushing so lightly against my clit, how the stinging pain had turned into warm pleasure that radiated through my entire body.

“Please just what?”

“Please just fuck me.”

“Dirty girl,” he murmured in approval, and then he was standing up, shucking the rest of his clothes.

I watched as his cock came into view, beautiful and rock hard. Landon’s body was a work of art, his abs carved from granite, his chest dusted with soft hair.

“Please, sir, fuck me.”

I craved him, needed to feel him on top of me, inside of me.

He stood by the side of the bed and unhooked my bra, then pulled my panties down slowly, leaving me naked.

“You want to be fucked, angel?” His fingers strummed against the hollow of my throat, wandering down over the curve of my breasts, brushing feather light over each nipple before continuing down over my abdomen.

“Yes.”

His index finger found my folds, brushing over the sensitive tissues, my nerve endings responding instantly to his touch.

“Please.”

“Are you going to use that smart mouth again?”

“No.”

“I want to tie you up so bad, angel,” he said. “I want to gag you and keep you from talking.”

I whimpered.

“You’re lucky I don’t have a gag here. So I’m going to have to find another way to keep you quiet.”

And then in one swift movement he’d moved up on me, his cock in front of my face, and then he was grabbing the back of my head, pushing me down on him.His cock was thick, hard, unexpected and shocking in my mouth.

I choked, and stared up at him, on top of me, so strong, a look of pure possession in his eyes as his hips began to buck.

He cupped my chin as he fucked my mouth, and I did my best to keep up with him.

When he finally released me, I gasped and coughed for air.

“Have you had enough?” he whispered. His cock was still in my face, and he stroked it once, his fist tight. His other hand was between my legs, his fingers inside of me.

My pussy clenched on him.

“Please,” I begged.

He climbed on top of me, lining his body up with mine. His hard cock rubbed over my pussy, forking my folds but not fucking me. The sensation was excruciating, a kind of sexual torture I couldn’t have imagined existed.

“Please,” I begged again, and now I was writhing underneath him, grabbing at his back, trying to arch up into him. “Please, fuck me.”

“Is this what you want, Ms. Courtland?” He took my arms and pinned my wrists to the bed with one hand.

“Yes, sir.”

“Say it.”

“I want your cock. I want you to fuck me.” The need and desire I had for him so intense that I felt like I was losing my mind.

He grabbed his cock with his free hand and jerked it against me, teasing me, and then, just when I thought I was going to lose it, he slid into me.

He fucked me hard, fast, thrusting into me in one long, hard stroke.

I was so wet, so ready for him, and yet his cock was so big I inhaled, breathless, as he stretched me.

“God, your pussy is good,” he breathed. “I’m not going to be able to last long baby, I’m going come inside of you.” His hand slid over my rib cage, and I shivered.

“Landon,” I murmured. “God, Landon.”

“Aven.” His mouth claimed mine in an open-mouthed kiss, and at the same time he pulled my leg up at the knee, getting better angle on me, sinking even deeper into me than he was before.

My pussy clenched and pulled at him, drawing him in deeper, so deep I could feel him hitting against my core. The sensation was so intimate -- I’d never felt so connected to another person in my life.

I cried his name over and over again as I came, feeling him shoot off inside of me, filling me, owning me, his mouth on mine the whole time.

* * *

After, he held me in the dark, his fingers running over my arms.

My body was limp and wrung out from my orgasm, and I felt relaxed in his arms, safe, taken care of.

Even so, I propped myself up on one arm and looked at him, imploring.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he demanded, frowning.

“You know exactly why I’m looking at you like that.”

There was a pause, and the side of his mouth slipped up into a self-satisfied smile. “Because I just gave you the best orgasm of your life?”

“Stop.”

Silence stretched between us, and for a moment, I was afraid it was all pretend, that the connection I’d felt between us, that him being here, really had been just about sex.

“I missed you,” he said gruffly.

“Then why didn’t you call?”

He reached up, took a lock of my hair, twisted it slowly in his fingers. “I wanted to. I wanted to so badly, but you…” His jaw set in a line.

“But I what?”

“You said you loved me.”

“So what? It’s how I feel. I’m not going to apologize for telling you the truth. You said outside that you didn’t want to keep things from me anymore. So, I feel the same way. I don’t want to keep things from you. I love you. And in Vermont, you said you were falling in love with me. Was that the truth?”

“Yes.” He turned onto his back, scrubbed at his face with his hands. The moonlight was shining through the slats in my blinds, illuminating the contours of his face, and God, he was so beautiful, so perfect that it made my heart hurt.

“Being without you these last three days was torture.” He turned toward me., his blue eyes serious. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being out with those men, couldn’t stand them looking at you, thinking they could have what was mine.”

“Then why didn’t you call?” I demanded again.

“Because the only thing worse than not having you is having you.”

“Stop talking in riddles.”

“Being with you is torture,” he said, pulling me close. “Knowing that I want to love you and hurt you at the same time…”

“It’s not hurting me,” I said. “I like it.”

“It’s fucked up,” he said, and he looked at me, imploring, and I saw the torment in his eyes.

“Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me.”

“Was it one of the…” I trailed off, running my hands over his biceps, feeling the smoothness of his skin. “Was it one of the other women you’ve been with?” As much as it pained me to say it, of course I knew there were other women. He had a whole room in the house in Vermont, one that was there long before me.

“No.” He shook his head. “Women would let me do whatever I wanted to them, but…you’re different.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

He gathered me in his arms then, and I snuggled up to his chest. His body was warm, and I listened to his heart beat, strong and steady. We fell into silence, and I knew we were both thinking about what he’d said in Vermont – how maybe I liked what he did to me because I was punishing myself for what happened with my parents.

“If it’s so wrong,” I said finally, “then how can it feel like this?”

“I don’t know, angel,” he said, kissing my head. “I don’t know.”

* * *

“He’s not my brother! He’s not my brother, we’re not related!” Violet’s excited proclamation woke me at 5 am the next morning. When I opened my eyes, she was standing in my doorway, phone in hand, waving it around excitedly. She ran to me, her bare feet sliding on the braided throw rug in front of my desk, and she jumped onto the bed next to me, grabbing my hands. “We got the DNA results and Conner and I aren’t related!”

“That’s amazing, Vi,” I said honestly, blinking sleepily. I sat up, suddenly wide awake as I realized she was only able to jump on the bed because Landon wasn’t there. The spot next to me was empty, and my excitement at Violet’s news was tempered somewhat by the fact that he was gone, again.

“Isn’t it?” She stood up and spun around my room, picking up a lipstick from my dress, smearing it on her lips and pouting at her reflection playfully, hand on her hip. “Now Conner and I don’t have to worry about anything. We can be together!”

There was a faint headache starting at my temples, and I massaged them for a few seconds. “Violet, I need to tell you something.” I swallowed, twisting the comforter between my hands. I hated to ruin her good mood, but she needed to know. “Last night, Landon… well, he seemed to think that maybe Conner’s dad – their dad -- was the one who sent someone after you.”

Violet’s face fell a tiny bit, and she grabbed a tissue and wiped the lipstick off her lips. “Yeah, I know. Conner said the same thing. His father really didn’t want the press getting wind of the fact that Conner and I could be related. I guess he was trying to scare me away.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? That Victor Sheer would do something like that to someone his son was dating?”

“Of course it bothers me,” Violet said. “But it’s over now. There’s no reason for Victor to do anything anymore. Conner and I aren’t related. So there’s no need for his father to try to scare me off.”

“But – ”

There was a knock on my open door, and Landon stood there, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He was dressed in a fresh black suit, showered and shaved, his hair perfectly coifed.

“I brought you coffee,” he said to me. “But if the two of you are talking, I can come back.”

“I was just leaving,” Violet said. “I need to get back to Conner’s apartment. And buy some concealer.” She giggled, like buying concealer to hide the bruise on her face was akin to hiding a blemish. “Thanks for taking care of me, Aven. I’ll see you this afternoon.” She leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. I didn’t have time to ask her what she was talking about before she was gone, skipping out the door in a haze of happiness and denial.

“You’re here,” I said to Landon, who was leaning against the doorframe.

“Where else would I be?” His eyes roamed over my body, and I became suddenly aware of the fact that I was naked under the sheets.

“I don’t know. Home. The office. Just…gone.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No. I’m not going to leave you again.” He crossed the room to me and sat down on the edge of the bed, handed me the coffee.

“Thanks,” I said, inhaling the scent and taking a long sip. It was dark and rich, just the right amount of cream, and no sugar. Which was not how I usually took it, but then again, my usual coffee didn’t taste this way.

“What kind of coffee is this?”

“I had it delivered. It’s a dark Italian roast. Do you like it?”

“Yes. Did you have your suit delivered too?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

I shook my head, marveling at what it must be like to be able to get literally anything you wanted delivered to you, like it was nothing.

Landon stood up. “I’d like to have you accompany me to an event tonight.”

“What kind of event?” I took another sip of coffee, my stomach turning in anticipation.

“It’s a benefit for a behavioral health center, upstate, near Syracuse. My father serves on the board, and our family has been one of its biggest benefactors.”

“Will your father be there?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“I don’t want Violet anywhere near him.”

“Let me take care of my father.” His jaw tightened.

I nodded. “Do I have to dress up?”

“Yes. Violet will be accompanying Conner, so I’ve made arrangements for the two of your to go shopping this afternoon. A car will pick you up and take you to Caldwell, where a personal shopper will assist you.”

“Okay.” My hand tightened around the coffee cup and I took another sip. He leaned down and kissed my lips softly, tasting of mint and smelling of aftershave.

“I’ll see you later,” he said. “Text or call if you need anything.”

And then he was gone.

Only this time, I knew it was different.

This time, I knew I would see him again.

* * *

Shopping when you had unlimited amounts of money and a personal shopper at your beck-and-call at Caldwell – one of Manhattan’s swankiest department stores -- was completely different than walking into the mall and picking something randomly off the rack.

The shopper, an older women with a frosted blonde bob named Jo, had dresses ready for us, each of them more beautiful and more elegant (and more expensive) than the last. Violet and I took our time, showing off for each other, giggling and taking selfies, until we finally chose -- a long silver sheath with a halter neck for Violet, and a red silk number that dropped down low in the front for me.

Jo took our measurements, and had our dresses tailored to fit while Violet and I ate lunch across the street at DaCapo Grill, a fancy pants seafood restaurant, all of it thanks to Landon Sheer and his credit card.

After lunch, we were whisked to the top floor of the Caldwell building, where a salon so exclusive no one even knew it existed, well, existed.

We had blowouts and mani/pedis and then, in a moment of pure embarrassment, I was waxed down there “at the request of Mr. Sheer.”

Well, it was a moment of embarrassment for me, anyway. The woman who was in charge of waxing me acted like she did this every day. Which, obviously, she did.

Violet and I chatted and made jokes while we were attended to, passing a gossip magazine back and forth, and there was a lightness to my sister that I hadn’t seen in a while.

And yet, when I got back to my apartment and the porter who’d been sent home with me had handed me my dress bag and left with a tip, after I’d found a note on the counter from Emma who told me she had a second interview at the fashion delivery service she’d interviewed at a few days ago, when I was in my room, alone, a certain darkness settled over me.

Conner and Violet might not have been related, but Conner’s father had sent someone after Violet when he thought they were.

He’d been so desperate to protect his son, his name, that he’d been willing to hurt Violet to do it.

How could I ever have a relationship with the man? How could Violet?

And more importantly, was that the kind of thing he was going to resort to every time Violet or I did something he didn’t like, or when things weren’t going his way?

I’d been so excited to go tonight, to be with Landon, to spend time with Violet and even to get to know Conner a little better.

But now I just felt… off.

I walked toward my room with the dress bag in my hand.

Landon was set to pick me up in half an hour, and I was pretty much ready. All I needed to do was get dressed. Thanks to the spa, my hair was flawless, my makeup perfect, my skin smooth and glowing.

My phone rang, and I glanced down to see Landon’s name on the caller ID.

“Angel,” he breathed when I picked up.

“Mr. Sheer.”

“I’m told by my credit card company you had a very productive afternoon.”

“Oh!” My cheeks warmed. “I’m sorry, they wouldn’t let me look at prices, they said you’d approved everything.”

He laughed. “It’s fine, I wanted you to have a good time. You should never worry about money when you’re with me, do you understand?”

I breathed out. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, it’s just… it’s weird to me, spending your money.”

“Well, it’s not weird to me. And that’s what matters.”

“I suppose.”

“Anyway, that’s not why I was calling,” he said. “Are you in your bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“I left you present. Under the bed.”

I leaned down and pulled out a tiny box, set it on the bed. It was crimson red, and tied with a black ribbon.

I opened it.

Inside was a small gold ball, with what looked like a rubber handle on the end of it.

“A Christmas decoration?” I tried, holding it up doubtfully.

He laughed, and I loved the sound, loved that I was making him laugh, even if it was because of my naivety.

“Not quite. It goes inside of you.”

“Inside of…oh.”

“I want you to put it inside your pussy, Ms. Courtland.” His voice was deep now, heady, laced with that dominance I’d come to know.

“Now?”

“Yes. I want to hear the sound you make when it spreads that tight cunt.”

I too off my pants, then slipped my hand down the front of my panties, using the rubber handle to guide it. The ball was cold and I made a little whimper. “Oh.”

“Good girl,” he said. “Now push it inside.”

I pushed, the gold ball spreading my pussy, the weight of it placing a constant pressure on my clit as it settles into place.

“Now put your thong on.”

I put it on.

“Good girl,” he said. “God, you sound so hot, angel. I can’t wait to fuck you senseless later.”

“Wait,” I said. “Um, what… when do I take it out?”

“When I say so. I’ll see you soon, beautiful.”

* * *

By the time the limo pulled up in front of my apartment, I felt like I was going to explode.

The metal ball inside of me brushed against my insides every time I moved, setting me on fire. It was just enough to keep on the edge of horniness, the ache between my legs a constant distraction.

Landon stepped out of the back of the limo.

He was dressed in a tux, looking every inch the powerful billionaire on his way to a benefit. I didn’t know anything about tuxedos or fashion, but I could tell that what he was wearing was expensive and tailored. The material was cut elegantly, hugging his broad shoulders and large frame, his shirt white and crisp, his cufflinks glittering under the lights of the city.

“Wow,” he breathed when he saw me.

“You like?” I twirled, letting the bottom of my dress swirl around me in a shimmery, gossamer cloud.

“You look absolutely stunning, Ms. Courtland.” He pulled me toward him, his eyes dipping down the front of my gown, where an expanse of cleavage awaited him. His lips claimed mine in a kiss. “I might need to take you upstairs and fuck you before we even get there.”

“No,” I said playfully, shaking my head and sliding past him into the limo. “We don’t want to be late.”

He groaned and got into the limo, sliding across the seat toward me and nuzzling my neck.

“Have you been a good girl?” he whispered.

“Always.”

His hand pulled the fabric of my dress up slowly, his fingers slipping inside my panties, up inside of me, checking for the gold ball.

“Landon,” I gasped.

“If you’re bad tonight, princess, if you defy me in any way, I will take your panties away.” He grinned devilishly and brushed his lips against my neck, over the hollow of my throat, my pulse leaping and dancing.

If I thought it was torturous keeping the metal ball inside of me with panties on, I could only imagine how it would be with no panties – right now the sheer fabric of my thong was helping to keep the ball inside of me.

If I had to tense my muscles even harder to keep it from falling out, the feeling would go from torturous to unbearable.

Landon’s lips found mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, parting them. He tasted like mint and danger, and soon we were making out heavily, my hands sliding inside of his suit jacket, tracing the defined muscles of his abdomen through his dress shirt.

His hand held the back of my neck, his other hand sliding up and down my side as we kissed, our tongues tangling and dancing.

A few minutes later, the limo came to a stop in front of a tall, luxury apartment building.

Landon untangled his legs from mine.

“Shit,” he groaned.

“What? What is it?” His kisses had left me breathless.

“I told Conner and Violet we’d pick them up at Conner’s apartment,” he said. “I thought you would enjoy driving over with your sister. Now I’m realizing the complete foolishness of that idea.”

I giggled and snuggled into him. “No, it’s sweet. I’m glad they’re riding with us.”

The door opened, and Conner and Violet tumbled into the limo. The two of them were giddy, on a high after finding out that they weren’t brother and sister. They also seemed as if maybe they’d had a couple of glasses of wine before they arrived.

My sister’s cheeks were flushed, and Conner’s eyes were half-lidded.

“Are we late?” Violet asked. “Sorry if we’re late. We were busy.” She giggled again. She looked beautiful in the shimmery sheath dress we’d picked out earlier, her hair brushed to the side in a fishtail braid.

“You’re not late,” Landon said, looking at them with amusement.

“Nice to see you, brother,” Conner said, then turned his attention to me. He took my hand and raised it to his lips. “Aven, good to see you again.”

“You too,” I said, not sure if I meant it. But I supposed I was willing to give Conner a chance. He was Landon’s brother, Violet’s boyfriend, and even though he gave off a vibe that made him seem as if he were less than trustworthy, he hadn’t done anything specifically to me.

“I’m starving,” Violet said. “Is there going to be food at this thing?”

“Yes,” Landon said. “There will be food.”

“If you call one bite of caviar and a tiny sliver of lobster food,” Conner scoffed. He reached into the mini refrigerator of the limo and pulled out a tiny shooter of vodka, handed it to Violet, and then picked one of bourbon for himself.

“Aven?” he asked. “What’s your poison?”

“No, thanks,” I said.

“Oh, come on,” Violet said. “We’re celebrating.” She smiled at Conner as they downed their drinks.

“Yes, it’s great news,” Landon said. “The DNA results were conclusive.” He picked up the empty bottles his brother had placed on the leather console, lifted the lid and dropped them into the garbage.

I glanced at him.

Something in his tone made me think that there was a “but” coming, and I wondered if it had to do with his father, if he was going to bring up the fact that Victor Sheer had pretty much admitted that he’d had my sister assaulted.

The way Conner and Violet were acting, it was if it had never happened, even though the bruise on my sister’s face was slightly visible under her makeup, and the cut in her lip made her look as if she’d had lip injections.

“Not just that,” Conner said. “Tell them Violet.”

“I’m moving to New York!” Violet said gleefully.

“What?” I frowned. “You mean after graduation?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Now.”

“But what about school?”

“I’m going to transfer.”

“To where?” I pressed.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“But you love Filmont.” She did, too. It was one of the best art schools in the country, where Violet could study graphic design and be confident she could get a job afterwards, thanks to their extensive alumni network.

“I’m sure I’ll love whatever school I pick here.”

I frowned. “But isn’t it too late to start for next semester?”

“I’m going to take a semester off.”

“And do what?”

“I don’t know, explore the city. Conner said he might have some clients I can freelance for.”

“I’m sure he does,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. I met Conner’s eye, and he gazed back at me coolly. It was an uncomfortable feeling, someone having a say in my sister’s life, since for so long it had been just the two of us. I checked myself, wondering if perhaps I was overreacting, if I was overstepping my bounds.

But I didn’t think I was.

Violet was acting reckless, moving to New York to, what, live with Conner? And do nothing until she could apply to school? She had scholarships at Filmont, a generous financial aid package. Was Conner going to pay for her school, too, or were these supposed freelance jobs going to be expected to pay for her tuition?

I opened my mouth to voice some of these objections, but before I could, Conner spoke.

“And will the lovely Abigail be there tonight?” he asked, his question for Landon, but his eyes on me.

Next to me, Landon tensed.

“I don’t know.” Landon’s tone was curt, short, as if he was done with the conversation.

“Oh, come on,” Conner said. His tie was loose around his neck, as if he couldn’t have been bothered to tighten it, like he didn’t want to be uncomfortable for a second, even for a fancy benefit. “You mean she didn’t email you?” The limo was pulling to a stop now in front of the Quartz Stewart Building, where the dinner was being held in their Rosemont Room.

Our limo was just one in a line full of them, and I watched as drivers opened doors, a seemingly endless array of beautiful people stepping out, the women spray tanned and toned to perfection, their hair combed back into soft chignons or loose buns.

“Who’s Abigail?” I asked, trying not to sound as curious as I felt.

“That’s Abigail,” Conner said, pointing out the window at a woman standing off to the side talking to a group of people. She was in her mid-twenties, tall with long dark hair. While most of the women had their hair pulled back, she wore her hair loose in soft, tousled curls. Her lips were full, her tiny waist accentuated by the dress she was wearing, a strapless rose gold number made of layers of soft material that made her look like some kind of angel. “She’s Landon’s ex-girlfriend.”

“She was never my girlfriend,” Landon said.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you don’t like labels,” Conner said, rolling his eyes.

Landon tensed again.

“This is going to be so fun,” Violet declared, and then her and Conner were out of the limo in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

“You ready?” Landon asked, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Yes.”

We got out of the limo, Landon’s hand still around mine, as we began making our way toward the front of the building.

But before we could get there, that Abigail woman appeared at Landon’s other side. She was even more gorgeous up-close, her skin flawless, her lips plump and full.

“Landon,” she said. Her voice was breathy, making her sound younger than she was.

“Abigail.”

She fell into step with us, like we were a happy group of three.

Landon made no move to introduce me.

“How are you?” she asked as we climbed the steps of the building and slipped through the doors. The lobby was huge, with a domed ceiling and crushed velvet carpet. We began to follow the crowd back to the ballroom.

“Fine. And you?”

“Good.” She leaned into him then, and made a movement so quick that I almost missed it. She pressed a note into his hand, kissed him on the cheek, and then disappeared into the crowd.

A weird feeling bloomed in my stomach.

It wasn’t jealousy, exactly.

It was more unease.

I’d literally been out with Landon for a few minutes, and he was getting notes from beautiful ex-girlfriends. How could one ever expect to have a relationship with someone like that?

Landon moved to the side of the lobby, pulling me with him.

He glanced at the note, making no move to shield me from it.

“Need to talk to you. About the center and your father. Text me when you can step away. V important. Destroy this note. “

Landon sighed.

“What’s that about?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

“Abigail’s husband runs the clinic the benefit is for,” he said. “The Benedict Center for Behavior Health. I told you my father is a big donor there.”

“Why does she want to talk to you about it?”

“I don’t know.”

I raised my eyebrows, and Landon caught it. “What?”

“Nothing.” I shrugged. “It’s just strange that she would want to meet with you, alone, about something that really has nothing to do with you, making it sound all sinister.”

“She’s married, Aven.”

“So?”

He shook his head. “It’s not like that. She wouldn’t –” He stopped talking, realizing that he was defending her, and then his face softened. “Fine. I said no secrets, right? Everything out on the table? Let’s put this to bed right now.”

He pulled out his phone, dialed a number.

“Abigail,” he said. “Meet me outside, behind the building. Yes, right now.”

Landon took my hand, and led me back outside, around to the back of the building and into a small alley.

It was dark out, and the sounds of New York were muted.

A moment later, Abigail emerged from another door, one that must have connected to the ballroom.

“Landon,” she said, glancing at me in surprise, as if she’d forgotten Landon had been with a date.

“This is Aven,” Landon said.

She nodded at me, but didn’t say it was nice to meet me or offer any other introduction. All she said was, “I need to talk to you alone.”

“Anything you have to say, you can say in front of Aven.”

“It’s about your father.” She twisted her hands, and I noticed her nails, even though they were painted a sheer rose gold that matched her dress, were bitten to the quick. “I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but you’re the only one I can trust.”

“It’s fine,” he said, and now his face was lined with concern. “What’s going on?”

But before she could answer, the sound of gunshots ran out through the alley, so out of place and surprising, that at first I thought they were firecrackers. I glanced toward the sky in annoyance, wondering why someone would be setting off firecrackers in New York City when it wasn’t the fourth of July.

It was only when Landon pushed me to the ground, placing his body over mine that I realized what was happening.

More shots rang out, a horrible popping sound that seemed to last forever, but it was probably only a few seconds. Then they stopped.

“Are you okay?” Landon asked. “Aven? Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Stay there.” He stood up, and that’s when I saw the blood on my hand, felt it wet against my face.

“Landon,” I cried, and he was back down next to me. “I’m bleeding.”

His shoes were covered in blood, a pile of it now starting on the cement.

“No,” he said. “No, you’re not.”

He reached down and helped me up, out of the blood, and that’s when I saw her.

Abigail, lying on the concrete.

Half of her beautiful face was missing, blown to pieces by a bullet.

Someone had shot her.

Someone had shot her right before she was going to tell Landon something about his father.

I turned and looked at Landon.

“I need an ambulance,” he was barking into his cell.

The puddle of blood grew darker, larger.

“Come on,” Landon said. “Come on, Abigail, stay with me.” He took off his tuxedo coat and pressed it against her forehead, trying to stop the bleeding.

But there was so much blood.

His eyes met mine, and for the first time since I’d known him, I saw real fear there.

“Go get Violet,” he said. “Tell her and Conner what happened, and tell them to get the hell out of here.”

I was frozen.

“Aven, go.”

I ran.