EMMA

I'd expected to be slapped awake the following morning, as was typical with this place. If it wasn't an actual hand striking my skin, it was the flash of glaring lights and the screams of the women being taken for their films. But despite my expectations, I woke softly the following morning, with a gentle hand brushing the hair from my face, a small voice whispering my name until I was dragged from the fretful grip of sleep.

"Come on, Emma. Wake up. What is this place? Why did they bring us here?"

Blinking my eyes open, I turned my sleep-hazy gaze toward the sound of that voice. Melanie sat on the bed next to me. Between one second and the next I was caught in the slow movement of a woman first awakened and shooting up in bed to grab Melanie's shoulders and ask questions.

"What are you doing here?"

Her eyes were rounded with fear, her hair a limp chord of tangles falling over her shoulder. "I don't know. That's why I woke you up to ask. The guard came and got me this morning. I thought I was being dragged off to make a film. But instead, he stuck me in here. What is this room?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but was disrupted by the door slamming open and a two guards carrying in trays of food. Setting them by the opposite wall, one gruffly announced, "Breakfast. You have ten minutes to eat."

They were gone and the door slammed shut again.

Locking my eyes to hers, I shrugged. "They're not kidding. You should eat before they march back in here in ten minutes to flush it down the toilet-sink."

Her brows drew together. "The what?" Turning, Melanie finally saw the steel monstrosity that was supposed to count as a proper bathroom. She stared for a long while before finally muttering under her breath, "Well, I guess that's better than the buckets."

"That's what I said. Come on, let's eat."

To my surprise, Melanie had been given the same selection of food as me, which was far better than what they served in the cafeteria. But seeing that she'd been allowed something even slightly nutritious made me concerned about the reason why. Every move Ethan made was well thought out and calculated. Which meant Melanie's presence inside my room couldn't be a good thing.

We finished eating just as the guards swept in to collect the trays, a smiling Ethan gliding in behind them. Leaning against a wall, he tucked his hands in his pockets, his eyes locked to mine as the guards shuffled through the door and left the three of us standing in tense silence.

"Morning, ladies. How nice it is to see both of you."

My eyes narrowed, my hands fisting to hear his tone of voice. When Ethan sounded cheerful, there was hell to pay. "Why is she in here?"

His eyes shot to Melanie and back to me. "As collateral. It wouldn't have been necessary if you hadn't already told me you would rebel today. So, while you slept through the long and lonely night, I sat up plotting." His expression twisted, his lips curling with sardonic humor. "You really should learn not to reveal your cards so soon, Emma. It gives other people time to act against you."

"You will do anything I ask of you, my beautiful girl. I have ways of bending your will. It would be in your best interests not to push me to use them."

Son of a bitch.

And because I'd given Melanie the blanket that night, Ethan had known just who to go after to gain my cooperation.

He'd been right during our silent conversation. I had given up my advantage.

Still, I couldn't help but push him for answers. "What could you possibly threaten that isn't already being done to us? You film women being raped and murdered. It's not like you can pull out some other horrible torture from your bag of tricks. This won't force me to be your little puppet."

"In fact, I can...and it will." Smile gone, his expression became serious. "This is what I'm proposing. I understand that for all the hard work the guards do around this place, they haven't been properly rewarded. So, I thought, why not give them a few days of appreciation? A free for all, if you will, but with only one particular prisoner. Every guard we have, maybe even a few of the studio heads, like the man you heard the other night. Hell, I'll even allow the cooks and janitors to come in and have a taste, if that's what they want. Every single one of them. As often as they like. Without breaks. Without rules. Without concern for the amount of hours or days this woman will suffer their abuse. It won't be a half hour or even an hour tops before I call cut, it will be a never-ending conga line of sick, perverted, painful fucks. Do you understand how that could be worse than what you've already seen in my bag of tricks?"

When I didn't respond, he smiled again. "I see I have your attention. Would you like to know how you can prevent that from happening?"

After opening my eyes that had clenched shut while listening to what he'd planned, I glanced over to see that all color had drained from Melanie's face, her body leaned against the wall beside me because she couldn't trust her legs to hold her up.

"How?" I finally asked, my will broken so easily.

"By not only behaving when it's your turn to be on that stage, but also for spending the day with me as my assistant. I want you to understand every aspect of my job, down to the finest detail. And I want you to do so without comments, complaints or rude little accusations that make me feel bad about myself."

As if that could ever happen. Ethan feeling bad about himself was like a lion crying over the gazelle he was shredding with his teeth.

If my heart hadn't been trampled on already, it would have been crushed by that one statement. An entire day spent witnessing Ethan's insanity. I wasn't sure I could survive it.

But what choice did I have? I wouldn't let him destroy Melanie. Not like that.

"Fine," I breathed out.

"Good." Moving slightly to his right, he extended an arm to knock on the door. It popped open a second later, a guard filling the doorway with broad shoulders and black fatigues.

"You can take the second one away now. Put her back in the cages where she'll be kept safe." He'd emphasized the word safe as a pointed reminder of our newfound agreement.

Once we were alone, I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my chin in defiance. "How safe?"

He stilled, his head slowly rotating my direction, a brow arched arrogantly above his eye. "I'm sorry. Had we not finished discussing the terms of our arrangement?"

Playing word games with him wouldn't get me anywhere. I decided the direct approach might work. "I want to add a condition."

The corner of his lip twitched. "This should be interesting."

"I don't want Melanie used for films either. As long as we have this arrangement, I want her completely safe."

"I'm not sure you're in a position to demand that. I've already told you what will happen if you don't cooperate today."

My own brow arched. "For today. Those were the terms. But I suspect that you'll want your little cash cow to cooperate longer than that. So, that's what I'm offering. My cooperation, for as long as you can use me, in exchange for your promise that Melanie won't be used in a film again."

His brows pulled together in consternation, his observant eyes searching my face. "You would do that? Sacrifice yourself to help some woman you only met a little over a week ago?" His voice was genuinely confused. "Why?"

Ethan often refers to me as an actress. He'd used the name at particular times that, until now, I didn't fully comprehend. At first, I'd assumed he called me that because I was just another character on his stage. But at the moment, I wasn't so sure anymore that his use of the title had anything to do with my forced occupation.

Arguing with him had become second nature. So much so that it was a familiarity between us. I wasn't terrified of him like the other women - or, if I was, my mind had found a way to turn off that terror in an effort to shelter the rest of me.

I'd been terrified when I was snatched off the street and stuffed into a van. I was still terrified after being raped, shipped across an ocean and walked single file into a building. Yet, even that hadn't compared to the terror of watching a woman get shot, seeing Melanie raped on stage, or watching an asthmatic woman die in front of me.

It wasn't as terrifying as being turned into a killer for the entertainment of seedy men.

It was too much, and I think at some point, the shock of it all had shut me down. It was as if my brain protected me against a meltdown and psychological snap by closing off emotion. Without that emotion, I was nothing more than a shell of the woman I'd been before all of the terror, and as that shell, I'd worn a mask of indifference. Since walking into Ethan's office that first night, I'd pretended to be someone I'm not.

That's why he always called me an actress, not because of what I was forced to do, but because I was as fake as all the other starlets he'd hated in Hollywood.

I wasn't strong. I was scared beyond comprehension. But I hadn't yet admitted it - to him or myself.

Maybe I just needed to be honest for once. Not for his benefit. But for mine. I was tired of not feeling anything because I was afraid of admitting I was terrified.

"Because it's the right thing to do. And because I'm a fucking idiot. But really, what does it all matter? It all washes out in the end when I'm no longer making you money and my time runs out."

The strength of my voice died off, each word becoming a weaker construct, a ghost of what it should have been. "And if I'm able to do one good thing in this place, I will. Because, in truth, I'm scared. Not just scared, I'm terrified. There's no use pretending otherwise. Not anymore, at least."

Stepping toward me, Ethan didn't so much as blink. His eyes were too focused, his expression pulled taut by whatever thoughts were running through that messed up head of his. I took the opportunity to study him back, to dedicate to memory each line that marred his skin, each silver hair at his temples that betrayed his age. It was unfair how those symptoms of a longer lived life only served to enhance his appeal. They made him more human.

Cupping my cheek with his hand, he gently angled my face up to his. And with a silky tone of voice that I would never openly admit weakened my knees, he said, "For once, you're being honest. I see you, Emma. I've always seen you staring out from behind false eyes and lying lips. But even in this brief moment of raw honesty, you are mistaken about what's inside you. You don't wear weakness well, so stop trying to cram yourself into a costume that doesn't belong to you. You're not scared. You're tired. You're broken down and whether you realize it yet or not, you've been forced to your knees."

Pausing, he let his words sink in, let them roll across the air until all I knew was the flavor of them. "But you're not the type to stay on your knees, are you? You're not the type to be dominated so easily. And until you see that, I'll continue playing my games to show you what truly exists beneath your skin."

My bottom lip quivered, both from pain and anger. Ethan's thumb swept over the fullness of it, the taste of his skin seeping into my mouth on a delicate tendril.

"Is that what this is to you? One big game?"

He smiled at the question, the type of smile that would have melted my heart if I hadn't known it was pure evil. Like me, Ethan was a liar. Only where I raged, he seduced. And where I broke down and admitted defeat, he swept in for the kill.

"No. This is a challenge. One I gladly accepted the second I laid eyes on you."

Much like last night, a moment occurred between us that was too heady to tolerate. The heat of his palm sunk into my cheek, spreading like a virus, weakening me until I lost the ability to function or think clearly. In him, too, I saw another person staring out from behind the mask of indifference he wore. Except there was a slow burn to his inner self, a mysterious dancer that spun and twirled always remaining just outside my understanding because he would never stop moving long enough for me to see him fully.

The moment ended abruptly, Ethan's hand sliding from my face, his strong, broad body moving to cross the short distance of the room until he was standing by the door. I was stuck in place, still caught in whatever hypnotic web that moment of clarity had weaved.

"Let's go," Ethan said, shredding the web with his back to me and his hand on the knob of the door. "We have new arrivals to meet."

Shuffling forward on bare feet, I resigned myself to whatever tasks I would endure as his assistant. They would tear me apart, I was sure of it. But I had no other choice. Choice had been taken from me the minute I was ripped off that street in Boston.

Still, one question rolled in my mind as Ethan stepped aside to allow me to walk though the door. Turning back to him, I lifted my eyes to say, "You never answered me."

Arrogance blended with just a touch of humor was the arch of his brow. "Answered what?"

"Will Melanie be kept fully safe? Unused for anything as long as I cooperate?"

Stepping close to me, his chest brushed mine as he lowered his head to speak against my ear. "How cooperative are we talking? Would you be willing to spread your legs for her safety? Pretend to like it despite what's being done to you?"

My heart fractured into tiny, tinkling shards. "If I have to."

A beat of silence. "Even if the man between your legs was me?"

A tremor coursed through my body, such a tiny thing for how thoroughly it shook me. "Y-yes," I stammered, unsure why, now, my voice chose to break apart. I'd already been used in that way, had been ripped open and stitched back together. But the thought of it being Ethan between my legs...

I didn't want to consider what it made me feel.

He laughed softly, the husky sound like music against my ear. "It's too bad, then, that you're not in a position to make demands or request conditions, because I would have enjoyed watching you pretend you didn't like what I was doing to you, even when I knew how much you actually did."

Abruptly, he stepped away, cold air chasing in to cover the areas where I no longer felt his heat. Catching a glimmer behind his eyes as I peeked up at him from beneath my lashes, I scowled at the games he still played.

He only grinned in response. "Let's go, Emma. We have work to do and I'm not the type of fool that so easily gives up my advantage."

He winked and I scowled harder.