"Big news, my darlin'." Blake bursts into the bathroom where I've stewed myself in the hot tub until my skin has turned dark pink.

It's been hours since my last shot of nectar. In between doses, my head clears just enough for me to reflect on what the hell I'm doing. During the last few minutes I've been trying to make a mental catalogue of anything pertinent I've discovered since my arrival. But there's nothing. Only the stark, embarrassing reality that I've been swept easily into the sordid, secret Lace Underground as if I was always meant to be a part of it. Shabby-ass detective work—that's what Clark would call it.

Blake sits on the edge of the tub and rings out my hair. "Do you want to hear the news, or are you just going to sulk in these bubbles?"

"What's the big news?" I ask, pretending interest. In between doses is like that, a sort of blank spot where emotions and desires have slowed to a listless crawl. I lean my head back and look up at him. He has switched the purple contacts for electric blue. They take some getting used to.

"You are going to the club party tonight."

I sit up so fast water splashes over the edge of the tub. "Is he through with me?" Seconds ago my emotions were flat. Now they have erupted like a volcano. "I'm to be tossed out just like that?"

Blake sighs. "No, darlin', that's not it at all." He can't hide the disappointment in his tone. "You'll be Mr. Freestone's guest. Some of the other girls have been asking to meet you." He rolls his eyes. "You're the center of gossip right now. The girl who has kept his attention a full week." Blake stands and opens a plush white towel for me.

"A full week?" I ask in disbelief as I stand up from the bubbles. "Have I been here that long?" My mind is just clear enough to go straight to Maddox. What is he doing? Missing me? I laugh remembering he's too busy planning his wedding to give me a second thought.

Blake wraps the towel around me. "What's that laugh for?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. Just thinking about—"

He leans back to look at me. "Thinking about what?"

"About life before this place." I have to work to keep the homesickness out of my tone.

Blake pats me dry. "Well, you'll have to save the reminiscing for another time. I need to get you dressed." He walks to the panel where the nectar is kept.

I lean over and dry my legs. Bath time is the only time I'm without the leather cuffs and anklets. It feels strange to not be wearing them. The anklets leave a permanent thin line around my ankles. I touch the line and it immediately makes my pussy grow hot as I think about Kane, just hours earlier, fastening my feet to the hooks on the wall, leaving me helpless and exposed and trembling with anticipation.

Blake walks over with the syringe, filled, prepped and ready.

"Maybe I should skip it," I suggest bravely considering my body is saying don't you fucking dare. "It's just that I want to be clearheaded when I meet the other girls."

Occasionally, Blake's laugh is ill-timed and slightly cruel. "Darlin', trust me, the other girls won't be skipping their doses. The club members will be there too. Cocktails are served and then the members peel off with their selected entertainment for the night."

I've been a virtual prisoner in this room. This will be my first opportunity to find out what I was sent here to discover. Who belongs to this secret society and why are members turning up with their skulls smashed in?

"Please, Blake. If we skip this dose, I promise to eat my whole breakfast tomorrow."

Blake stares at the syringe, then moves closer to lower his voice. I'd never considered the possibility that everything I did in my room was being observed or listened to. "Just this time," he says quietly and moves me toward the tub. He shields me with his body and shoots the amber colored liquid into the bath water. It sinks into the frothy bubbles and disappears with the water. My stomach tightens as I watch it get sucked away.

"You have to go along with the game and pretend you're dosed up or we'll both be in trouble." Blake's whisper is so quiet it's nearly drowned out by the crinkling sound of the dying bath bubbles.

"Thank you." I touch his arm lightly to show my appreciation.

"Now, we've got to get you all dolled up for the big reveal. Makes me feel like I'm getting someone ready for their debut into society." His voice is freshly enthusiastic, but I can hear worry threaded through the lyrical tone.

I follow Blake to the bedroom. He throws open the closet. It's filled mostly with lacey lingerie, but there are a few dresses. It occurs to me I've either been naked or scantily clad the entire week. It's rather freeing. Thinking about pulling on actual clothes makes me cringe. I inadvertently rub my naked arms thinking about the fabric touching me.

Blake notices me rubbing my arms. He pulls a little black dress out of the closet and holds it up in front of me, pretending to see how it'll look. He brings his mouth to my ear to whisper. "Don't. Skin crawling is a side effect of withdrawal. This is a mistake," he mutters as he pulls his mouth away. He looks at the dress. "And so is this. You're too washed out. The golden skin you came in here with has been replaced with floury white. You're not eating enough, and we need to get you to the tanning room sometime. You need some UV light on that pale skin."

I force my hands away from my skin and try not to think about the sensation creeping up my arms. Suddenly I'm rethinking my decision to forgo the nectar. Only it will be impossible to find out information or even remember people and faces if I'm in the heated fog left behind by the drug.

Blake pulls a pale green dress from the closet. It has a tight bodice and a flouncy, short skirt. It's a dress I might have worn to a summer party when I was sixteen. Blake can sense my distaste for the flirty little dress but dismisses it.

"The green is the only thing that works with your ghostly pallor. Arms up." I hold up my arms and he drops the dress over me." He steps back and his eyes grow wide. "Shit, you're swimming in it." He points at me. "Every bite of breakfast tomorrow."

I nod but now, more than ever, the idea of food in my mouth makes my stomach tighten. A wave of nausea washes through me. I smile through it, not wanting to give Blake any more to fret about.

Blake motions me over to the vanity to finish off my party look. He picks up the leather cuffs. His deft fingers lace them onto my wrists. "Will the other girls be wearing them?" Wearing them in the privacy of the bedroom is one thing but out in front of others, complete strangers, is embarrassing.

"Of course they will. Especially if they want to be chosen for the evening."

"Being chosen is a good thing then? They want to entertain the club members?"

"Yes, if they aren't desirable, then they have no place here. Besides, you know how the nectar makes you feel. They want it almost as much as the club members. Otherwise, the sexual frustration can make you go mad."

Blake brushes my hair back into a ponytail. It's the perfect hair style to go with the teenager dress. The underage look is complete, I think wryly. Then another dark thought hits me. "Are you sure he's not sending me out there to hand me to one of the club members?"

Blake mulls the question over. "I was surprised when he asked me to get you ready for the night's activities, but I don't think so." He leans down and stares at my reflection. "Darlin', you need to prepare yourself for when that day comes. And it will come. He won't keep you tucked in here for his personal use for long. You're an asset to the company, if you catch my meaning. There's no return on investment when you're sitting in this room."

"Lovely, so I'm a commodity," I quip. Angie Tennyson's sarcastic tone is back. One skipped dose and I'm finding my way back to reality. Only I fear reality is going to feel like a hard slap in the face.

"We all are, darlin'. But there are worse ways to live. Like the streets."

Blake and I had quickly bonded, but selfishly, I'd never asked how he came to be part of Freestone's underground world. "How did you end up here?"

Blake reaches for some mascara and spins the chair to face him. He stoops down in front of me. "For obvious reasons, my extremely religious, conservative father kicked me out of the house. Said I was a sexual deviant. I had to do what I could to survive. My low point came when I nearly died after some creep I'd offered to blow kidnapped me. He had his way with me and then dumped me out in the desert. Turned out to be a lucky thing. Mr. Freestone's limo was heading back to the underground complex. The driver spotted me. They picked me up, nursed me back to health and here I am in all my glory. Fat and happy and I have a place to belong."

A place to belong. That is where the inconsistencies muddy the waters. I'm here to uncover the hideous world Freestone has created, only it seems part of that world includes taking care of young people society has otherwise discarded. The fear Blake exhibits when he worries about breaking the rules seems to stem more from his worry that he'll lose his newfound home and not from some insidious danger he faces if caught breaking protocol.

My eyes shut as Blake finishes my makeup. I use the moment of quiet to get into a better state of mind. I'll need to be the submissive sex object while trying to uncover mysteries and salacious details about Lace Underground. The hardest part of it all will be ignoring the irritating side effects of skipping my dose of nectar. There are seconds when it feels as if tiny ants are dragging feathers along my skin. The thudding pain in my head and stomach have only just begun. I have no doubt they will intensify as the night goes on. I've seen more than enough junkies in the throes of withdrawal to know that things are going to get rough. I have to stay strong, keep my wits about me and still pretend to be floating on a blissful erotic cloud.

As I wait for Blake to finish, I think about the last few days sitting in the room going nearly out of my mind waiting to see Kane walk through the door. The feelings I have for him when I'm drugged border on mad obsession. When the amber liquid is coursing through my veins, all I can think about is his mouth on me, his fingers and cock inside of me. I'm more than subconsciously aware of the manic cravings I have for the man. There is nothing I can do to stop them when I'm high on nectar. The question is—how will I react to Kane when I'm not drugged? How will I react when I'm more Detective Tennyson than I am Tawny Smith, his Sweet Sin?