I wake with a start. As my bleary gaze takes in my surroundings adrenaline jolts through me and I sit up. But I quickly collapse back against the cloud of pillows behind me. I touch the fabric on my stomach. I'm still wearing the silky sundress given to me at the party. The bodice is fastened now but a momentary warmth floods through me as I think back to fingers opening the buttons and pushing the straps off my shoulders. I open my eyes slowly this time so as not to freak myself out. I'm in a vast and lushly appointed bedroom. The four poster bed where my aching head and body are being cradled by a soft, inviting quilt and pillows is of a sleek modern design. White, gossamer netting hangs from the canopy frame over the bed. My eyes are drawn to silver rings, a pair of which have been bolted near the top of each bedpost. I can only assume they help hold the netting in various positions to keep out morning light. That's when it occurs to me that while there are plenty of light fixtures in the room, there are no windows, only several recesses in the walls to allow for storage of unusual pieces of furniture, including an odd looking chair that reminds me of something you'd find in a gym and a short couch that is shaped like a wedge. One nook is empty save for four silver rings, larger than the ones on the bed, at each of the four corners of the closet sized opening. An orange chaise and mahogany dresser take up one corner of the room. A chrome vanity sits against a wall with a plush orange stool sitting in front of it. There are three doors. I assume one is a bathroom and one a closet but then my head is hardly clear enough to make any reasonable assumptions.

I close my eyes again hoping to sleep away the grogginess in my head. I'm close to slipping into a blissful sleep when a shadow falls over the bed. My eyes pop open. A pleasant round face with unusual purple eyes is smiling down at me.

"You're awake. Thought you might sleep forever." The youngish man is dressed in a skin tight white t-shirt and well fitted black trousers. His dark hair is shaved close to his head and he has a silver stud in each ear. He moves gracefully and feminine, like a classically trained ballerina. The eyes seem to get their purple color from contacts. "Come, come, darlin', we need you up and ready."

"Who are you?" My voice is scratchy like my throat is filled with gravel.

"I'm Blake, your personal lady-in-waiting." He curtsies and pretends to hold out the ends of a dress. He turns to the dark mahogany nightstand and pours me a glass of water from a crystal pitcher. "That frog voice won't do at all."

I have difficulty sitting up. Blake lowers his hand for me to take. His palm is smooth, no working callous. He pulls me up to sitting. I brace my hands on the bed to steady myself before taking the glass of water. I greedily gulp it down like a woman who's been wandering the desert without a canteen.

"Where am I? And more importantly, how the heck did I get here?"

"You are in your room or the room that's been chosen for you. It's the nicest one, which makes sense since you're going to be his." Blake refills the glass and hands it back to me. "As for how you got here, what's the last thing you remember?"

I'm still trying to sort out what he's talking about when he tosses the question at me. My head aches just enough to make it hard to recall. I rub my forehead in a pathetic attempt to stop the pain. Blake reaches to the drawer in the nightstand and pulls out a bottle of aspirin. He shakes two onto his smooth, clean palm and hands them to me.

"Aspirin," I say with relief. "Wait. Aspirin. I remember Rowan handing me two pills. He told me they were aspirin for the headache. I was still blindfolded so I couldn't see what he gave me. But I swallowed the pills. I remember getting woozy and my knees giving way. I think I landed in Rowan's arms. I don't remember anything else until a few minutes ago when I opened my eyes in this room."

"That's about right. Mr. Freestone takes every precaution to make sure this place remains impossible to find. By the way, those are the real deal. Aspirin, I mean."

I swallow the tablets and survey the windowless room. The temperature is just right, not too warm or too cold. Even the humidity is perfect. I need to act completely clueless. I am fairly certain I know the answer to the next question but I ask it anyhow. "Why aren't there any windows in this room?"

Blake laughs. "You wouldn't see much if there were. This is a subterranean complex."

"So we're underground." That fact, now confirmed, makes me shudder inwardly. I wonder if there's a term for being undercover and literally underground. It's like vanishing without a trace. I am on my own. I have to go along with the whole damn game or risk revealing myself. Aside from being drugged and transported to the secret location, nothing else seems the least bit sinister, including my 'lady-in-waiting' who looks anxious to get started on his duties. Whatever those might be.

"Guess underground still beats living on the streets." I force a light tone. My stomach growls, and I press my arm against it.

Blake points down at my arm. "We'll get you breakfast just as soon as we get you primped and pretty." He tilts his head. "You sure have an interesting hair color. And with that face, it'll be fun to get you spruced up." Blake is wearing Birkenstock sandals. They shuffle over the lush ivory carpeting that covers the room from wall to wall. He tosses open one of the doors to reveal the entrance to a shiny marble-lined bathroom.

I throw my bare legs and feet over the side of the bed. The aspirin is only just starting to work its magic. With some food, I'll be my clear headed self again. Then it's time to start mentally logging evidence. It seems I'm going to find out exactly what goes on in the Lace Underground. I'm anxious to start tiptoeing through the Kane Freestone's notorious secret world. At the same time, I have to prepare myself for whatever is expected of me to get the job done. It's not going to be pleasant or easy, and it'll probably take me years of therapy to get the scars out of my head, but in the end, I'll show Clark and Maddox and the guys in the precinct just how a woman detective gets things done. After all, none of them could have gotten even this far on the undercover operation.

Blake has disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of water rushing into a tub and the fragrance of bubble bath fills the air. I'm still shaky from the champagne and long night, and I make my way toward the bathroom like a hundred-year-old lady. A quick glimpse in the vanity mirror assures me I look like one too.

Blake's smiling face appears in the bathroom doorway. He holds up a bottle of something and a towel. "First thing we need to do is get rid of unsightly hair," he chirps.

My step falters. "Unsightly hair? You mean—"

Blake's purple glazed contacts flash to my pussy. "The pubes have to go. Mr. Freestone likes things smooth and clean."

I swallow back the sudden dryness in my throat. Up until that second, I could only surmise that I was going to sleep with strangers. Now it's a solid fact. I just wonder how many sweaty, grabby billionaires I'm going to have to bed before I have enough evidence and a safe way out of the underground. Get in character, Angie. You are Tawny.

I shake off the tension and walk toward Blake. "I guess Freestone likes to make everything just right for his club members, eh?"

Blake shoulders rise in surprise, effectively blocking the door. "Darlin', you're not here for his club members. Mr. Freestone has chosen you for his own personal use. At least for now." He smiles proudly. "Puts a little more pressure on me, but I'm up to the task."

His earlier statement about being there for him makes sense now. I am going to be the mad genius's toy until he tires of me. Then he'll throw me out to his pack of wolves. I was going to need to work fast and stay clear headed through it all. It wasn't going to be easy. First and foremost, I needed to avoid the champagne.

I enter the bathroom. It's much larger than its sleek marble opening portends. My heart skips a beat and rare, girlish excitement overtakes me as the massive soak tub comes into view. For a second I forget where I am and fleetingly imagine I'm in a posh five star resort about to get pampered into feminine oblivion. The bathroom is bigger and more well furnished than my entire apartment. There is a plush chaise lounge at the foot of the bath and two velvet upholstered benches sit across from each other in the center of the room.

"What, no wet bar?" I ask.

Blake has a humorous glint in his eye as he walks to a panel on the wall and opens it. With a few button pushes, a marble panel opens up and a motor buzzes as a shelf filled with liquor bottles and glasses rolls out.

"Silly me for asking."

"You look like a rock and roll type but something soft for a bubble bath." Blake reaches back into the controls and suddenly Rod Stewart is crooning one of his slow songs. The echo is loud. Blake adjusts the music lower and it becomes a soothing background hum.

"Go ahead and strip off the dress, darlin'. Hope you don't mind if I call you that, it's just a habit I have."

I shake my head. I've already concluded that I have met my perfect connection to all that goes on in Lace Underground. It seems Blake and I have no choice except to become close friends, but maybe a little closer than I expected. I hesitate about taking off my dress.

Blake catches the pause and laughs. He has a good laugh, the kind that makes you want to hang out with him just because you know he likes to have fun. He puts his hands on his hips, reminding me of my Aunt Terry just before she was about to lecture me on being too wild in the house. "Darlin', I can tell you that I have about as much interest in seeing pussy as you have, so off with the dress." He shows me the can of hair remover again. "This was specially formulated by the boss. We need to get you foamed up."

It's more than a little unsettling having a strange man knelt down between my naked legs spraying foam around my privates but Blake is a pro. He goes right on with his conversation as if we're just two friends having a latte at a coffee bar. The foam starts to tingle on my skin. I fidget as the light tingle starts to sting.

"Don't worry about the stinging sensation. There's a soothing lotion to go with it. After this, we'll drop you in that tub, and I'll go get your breakfast. But while this stuff does it's thing, I need to get a blood test." He says it casually as if it's a perfectly normal thing to suggest.

I'm still processing his statement as he walks to yet another panel in the bathroom. It seems to be some kind of medicine cabinet. He returns with a band of rubber, a syringe and a vial. "Don't worry, I'm a trained nurse. I'm sort of the go-to doctor in this place."

I'm only half listening as I watch him prepare to take my blood. "Exactly why are we taking blood?" I ask.

"To make sure you're healthy and not carrying any STDs. We've got a full-time lab technician. By the way, are you on birth control?"

A terse laugh shoots from my mouth. "The whole fantasy of this bubble bath scene just went to the cold side of practicality and yes, I am but my belongings are back at the park."

"No problem. You'll be getting a different kind to start. It'll basically stop those pesky periods."

"Mr. Freestone really likes things to run efficiently down here," I comment. It seems the Lace Underground is not a seedy two-bit operation but a well-managed, high end business.

"Well, when your clients are paying seven figure yearly fees, you have to make sure things are perfect." He laughs faintly. "It's a lot to take in, I know."

He mistakes my silence as awe when I'm merely trying to tuck it all into my head for later, when I'm back in the real world. Because there is absolutely nothing real about the world I'm sitting in right now.

I'm sitting on a cushioned bench leaning back on my hands as he masterfully cleans away the foam with a towel.

"And just like that I'm ready for a string bikini," I quip.

Blake laughs. "I think we're going to get along fine. Now climb into that tub, and we'll get you smelling and looking like a bouquet of roses."

The water is just the right temperature. Silky, fragrant bubbles wobble on the surface as I sit down against the sloped side. "Wait, let me adjust the pillow." Blake slides a velvet covered pillow into place on the rim of the tub. "There, lean back and put this sleep mask on. It'll help you relax enough to get rid of that headache once and for all. I can still see twinges of it in your face. It's going to leave ugly lines in your forehead."

I slip the sleep mask over my eyes and rest my head against the pillow. It's by far the most luxurious bath I've ever taken. It's definitely a step up from sleeping in a sidewalk tent with Yoli talking in her sleep. I think about Yoli and the others at the park. By now they've noticed I didn't return with them. Olson would know by now. He most likely informed Clark already too. With the way things are going, I might just want to stay undercover, I muse.

"I'll get you some breakfast." I hear Blake's voice and lift a heavy, relaxed arm to wave good-bye at him, having no idea if he's even in the room anymore.