The next morning, I wake up groggy and irritable but mostly sad. I’ve spent most of the night going over and over what happened, and I am alternating from being extremely pissed off, to acutely turned on, to incredibly, desperately sad. Most women my age would have jumped at the chance for such an encounter with the Freed brothers. A night of carnal pleasure. God, I have no doubt that it would have been pleasurable. It’s just I don’t want to be used like that. I won’t be used and discarded like my mother has been countless times. Besides, they promised not to touch me, to respect my wishes, and they’ve broken that promise, just like Mum has done time and time again when she assures me she’ll stop drinking.

There’s a sharp knock at the door. “Louisa, I need to speak with you.”

It’s Hudson. His voice sounds pinched, guarded, but I don’t care. He has no right to sound pissed off, none at all. I get up and pull the door open, wrapping my arms around my chest.

“Can I come in?”

“If I said no, you would do it anyway, so what’s the point.”

Hudson swipes a hand through his hair, narrowing his eyes at me. Today they look more blue than green, like a tempestuous sea. There are dark circles under his eyes too and I feel a sense of satisfaction knowing he hasn’t slept well either.

“Well, what is it?” I snap. Defence is the best form of offense. I’d learnt that particular trick many years ago.

“I see the Ice Queen is back on form again.” His voice is stiff, cold.

“Whatever.”

“I’ve just had a call from the resort manager, Bastian. He asked us how you were getting on. We ended up having quite an interesting conversation, actually.”

“Oh?” I say, shifting uncomfortably on my bed.

“Yes. Bastian explained there has been an unusual withdrawal of cash from the card that was given to you to buy supplies. He wanted to know whether we authorised it, given we are funding the credit.”

“The money on the card belongs to you?” I ask, my palms clammy. Shawna had said that the company credited the cards, not the individual holidaymakers. Oh God.

“Yes, that money does indeed belong to me and my brothers, Louisa. Bastian may be the resort manager, but my brothers and I own it.”

“Own what?” I say, feeling confused. What does he mean?

“Brothers Freed own the resort. We don’t like being stolen from.”

“You own the resort?” My eyes widen as my hands begin to tremble. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Yes. What I want to know is why have you stolen from us?” Hudson settles next to me on the bed, watching me carefully, but he doesn’t try to fill the gaping silence that has descended.

I drop my head in my hands. “I’m sorry.”

“So, you did take the money, then? Why, Louisa?”

“To give to my mother. She’s in trouble with a loan shark. She needed the money. I didn’t have any other choice,” I whisper. I feel completely and utterly defeated. Hudson has every right to have me sacked, or worse, have me arrested for theft.

“We can come to an arrangement,” he says, laying a gentle hand on my knee.

My head snaps up, and through the haze of my tears, I can see Hudson staring at me. “What kind of arrangement?” I say carefully.

“You come to the cabin with us today for Christmas and we forget about the money you stole.”

“What?!” I say, pulling my leg out from under his hand, cool air replacing the warmth of his touch. I stand, backing away from him. “You want me to come to the cabin today on Christmas Eve like some hooker, so you and your brothers can have your way with me over five hundred pounds? Is that all you think I am worth?” Five hundred measly pounds? I’m pretty sure my mother gets more than that for her ‘favours’, as she likes to call them.

“No, that is not what I or my brothers think you are worth. This isn’t coming out the way I planned…” Hudson stalks towards me, and I find myself caught up between him and the wall. “What I meant was, we’re willing to ignore the theft if you are willing to spend Christmas with us in the cabin. We have no expectations of you, apart from your company and friendship. I promise you, Louisa, that’s all we want.”

I remember the previous evening and laugh almost hysterically. “That wasn’t the impression I got last night.”

“Last night got out of hand. It won’t happen again,” he says, taking another step closer to me. He’s got that look on his face, the one that makes me think he is going to devour me any moment now.

“Where have I heard that before?” I laugh. Even now, even when he is trying to convince me that neither he nor his brothers will touch me again, he is still moving towards me as though he’s going to do just the opposite. And the most fucked-up thing of all is that a large part of me wants his touch, wants to be adored by Max and Bryce too, even after everything I’ve said.

“And what happens if I say no?”

Hudson sighs. “Then we will arrange for flights to get you back home.”

The air suddenly leaves my chest and I go lightheaded at the thought of having to return home. What would I be going home to? A pissed mother, her endless trail of dirty old men, and a mess I want nothing to do with but have got drawn into nonetheless. Looking at Hudson now, thinking about last night and the growing feelings I have for the brothers, just makes me even more confused. I’ve stolen from them, I’ve been rude, defensive, jealous of the women they’ve been with, attracted to all three of them and yet done nothing but push them away time and again. Self-preservation is a fucking messed up bitch.

“Will you contact the police?” I say. I hate the fact my voice sounds so small, weak. I hate that Hudson is the one who is making me feel that way, but most of all I despise my mum for putting me in this position at all.

“That depends on your answer, Louisa.”

Tiny black spots start to speckle my vision at the thought that I could get into trouble with the police. It is mortifying enough I have stolen from them, but to be charged with theft on top of that as well. A stint in prison is not what I want to see in my future.

“Louisa, are you okay?” Hudson asks, concern creasing his brow. He reaches out, but I flinch away from his touch.

“Don’t,” I say, resigned now. “I will go with you, not because I want to, but because I can’t bear to go home, and because I don’t want to go to prison,” I add, moving into the middle of the room and crossing my arms defensively. I hear the spite in my voice and cringe internally. Even when saying the words, I know I am not being entirely honest with myself.

“Then you’ll need to pack. We’re leaving in half an hour,” Hudson says, his voice clipped, on edge.

“Half an hour?” I step out of his way as he walks past me. He stops at the door, turns around and considers me a moment. “Yes, Bryce and Max have been out this morning and got everything we need for a few days away. Believe it or not, we are able to put together a pretty good Christmas dinner,” he says, attempting to lighten the conversation.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t care about your skills as chefs. I won’t be eating it anyway.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “Just be ready in ten.”