My body won’t stop shaking. I sit in the passenger seat with Rody next to me, making me feel even more uncomfortable. He looks out of place, like he doesn’t know what to do. At least his coat covers me.

A wave of shudders tremble through my body and I sink further back into the seat, making myself as small as possible. Tonight was a complete nightmare. I thought what Quinn had already put me through was bad enough. Serves me right for assuming the worst was behind me.

The chance he gave me might have been fleeting, but I held onto it as a sign of hope. Hope that there may be a way out of this disaster other than paying with my body. Quinn shattered that small beacon of light. His disregard for me hurt, and that was a pain I don’t need to process on top of everything else.

It’s clear he doesn’t give a damn about the money he is owed, otherwise why would he give me more to lose? I am a possession for him to use as he sees fit. Hand me off to someone else for fun. My stomach twists and my mouth fills with saliva. I can still taste Anton in my mouth. I shudder again and close my eyes. Tears leak through my lashes, staining my cheeks.

Rody doesn’t speak or move for the entire journey home. I noticed his eyes on me earlier, though. I pull his coat up to my neck, covering every square inch of me I can. I want to pretend that I’m not in this situation. Red hot anger bubbles in my stomach. It mixes with the feeling of repulsion that’s been with me ever since Anton laid a hand on me. Disgust creeps through my mind and slithers into my bloodstream, making me feel as dirty as the whore they all took me for earlier.

The journey back is smooth and quiet, a small mercy from the trauma of the night, and I can feel part of my body giving up, succumbing to the need to shut down and recuperate. There was a part of me that was intrigued when we were on the way to the casino earlier. I’ve never been to America, and I couldn’t help but peek out the window at the lights and silhouettes of buildings as we travelled.  Now, I want to barricade myself in ‘my room’ and never leave.

The car pulls to a halt, and I barge open the door, tripping over the end of my dress as I exit the car.

“Here.” Rody offers his hand to help me, but I just ignore him and clamber to my feet. My heels sink into the gravelled driveway, but I find my balance and march to the front door. I can’t help but notice the house as I approach.

It’s elegant and modern, all large windows and clean lines. I push the distraction away and grab the door handle. It’s locked. “Arghhh!” I scream, the frustration pouring out of me. I’ve come up against door after door that are locked, and I’ve had enough.

Two men in dark uniforms round the corner of the house at my outburst.

“All’s clear, guys. False alarm.” Rody dismisses them. Quinn’s security really do patrol the property. Rody punches some numbers into a keypad to the side of the door and then puts a keycard into the door to open it.

I kick my stupid heels off and fling them into the lounge before I storm through the kitchen and up the stairs. My door isn’t locked, and my fist slams the door as loud as possible before I let out a wailing scream and collapse in a heap on the floor.

The emotions from this evening vent, but it’s not enough. I rip the dress from my skin and run for the shower. Hysteria creeps in as I scrub every part of my body. The spray immerses me until my fingers have pruned and I’m numb. I take the toothbrush from the counter and brush my teeth until my gums bleed, spitting blood into the white sink.

My breathing begins to still, the adrenalin from my outburst diminished. I crawl into bed and wrap myself in the sheets.

If I could take a pill to block my thoughts, I’d happily down it right now. My mind is determined to play over the evening's events. The scandalous dress Quinn made me wear, the chance at freedom that wasn’t even a real chance, and finally, the Russians.

And to top everything off is my confusion over how I reacted to Anton, versus my reactions to Quinn.

I fought Anton, kicking out and resisting him as much as I could. I wouldn’t have given in to them, no matter how tired or how much pain I was in. That wasn’t the same as when Quinn came into the room. Sure, I protested. I didn’t want to do anything he told me, but there was something at the back of my mind that allowed me to give in to him. His behaviour warps my mind. First, he romances me, then kidnaps me, then offers me up to pay his debt.

My eyes squeeze closed and more tears stain my cheeks. I curl up on myself, fighting the chill that comes with the realisation that I’ve allowed Quinn to treat me like a whore, but no one else.

I long to be home, in my house, in my own bed where monsters and gangsters don’t exist. I want to go back to my business, capture smiling families and happy couples and not have nightmares about dark spaces or men who take without asking.

He’ll be back soon. Maybe then I’ll kick and scream and fight with all my strength, and he’ll give up. I dry my eyes on the pillow, unashamed of the salt and snot now on his expensive sheets. Deep breaths. That’s what I need, but the few classes of yoga I took years ago don’t help my quest to find some semblance of calm. My breathing starts to speed up, and the hysteria I’ve been balancing on the edge of threatens to pull me under again.

My minds pulls the page of sheet music from my concert, and I murmur the first few bars. The notes get stronger and louder, and it immediately calms me. My lungs fill with air, and I sing the complicated Bernstein piece.

Time blurs along with the notes from my mind. The tune becomes a hum, or my own strange kind of lullaby. My eyes drift closed and sleep whispers at the corners of my brain.

The click of the door breaks my concentration, and I silence my voice. I lay as still as possible, listening for the footfalls of Quinn. A sudden bolt of panic runs through me that it might not be him. How would I know if he’s even home? The panic simmers in my chest as I strain to hear anything, but all there is is silence. The faint smell of Quinn’s fresh aftershave reaches me as I regulate my frantic breaths. It is him. Relief and dread wash over me as I admit to myself that I’m glad it’s him over Rody or some other man he wants to pay his debt to.

I wait. For his voice, for his hand snatching me out of bed. Nothing. It’s unnerving.

And then the edge of the bed dips. My heart pounds and every muscle in my body tenses, ready to fight. All I can hear is my pumping heart beating loud and steady in my chest.

Warm infuses through my skin as Quinn slides up against me. I push off, ready to run, but his arm clamps around me like an iron girder.

“Shhh,” is all he says.

His body is warm and offers comfort. I’m like a block of ice, unable to move. He doesn’t shift his arm or try to move me. He simply lets me be, warm and…protected in his grasp.

Exhaustion hits me, and where my eyes were sore and tired, they are now heavy, like they’ve been holding up the whole world. They drift shut, despite the situation, and darkness claims me.

* * *

The morning comes far too soon, forcing me to consciousness. I immediately scramble up in bed and look around the room. I’m alone. Everything is where I left it last night. My dress is discarded on the floor between the bed and the bathroom. No sign of Quinn.

My heart rate levels out and I ease back into the warmth of the covers. My stomach gives a loud grumble, and reminds me that I’ve not eaten properly for days.  

I head to the bathroom before looking for something to wear that covers some skin. Hanging on the side of the wardrobe is a cream coloured jumper. On the chair next to it, a neatly folded pair of black leggings. An interesting choice, given the last outfit I was asked to wear. Still no damn underwear.

I put my new clothes on and go to face the door. I refuse to get my hopes up because if it is open, it will give me a new dilemma. My hand encompasses the handle and eases it down. The latch clicks and the door jolts open.

Before I move a muscle, I listen. Is this a trap? Is Quinn waiting for me to try to escape? All I hear is muffled talking, and it sounds like it’s coming from downstairs. I swing the door wide and find the top of the stairs empty. The smell of something sweet, and possibly toast, invades my nose and focuses my mind. I creep down the stairs and wait at the bottom, gathering the courage needed to face whoever is in the kitchen. I can hear Quinn’s voice now, that low rumble he has that turned me to mush the first time we met. There are two other voices, and I guess that his brothers are back.

With my head held high, I turn into the kitchen and take sure but small steps into view.

“Em, how nice of you to join us. Come over. I saved you a seat.” Josh beckons me over to the table and the empty seat next to him. Quinn’s eyes flash daggers at his brother, a glare accompanying them. “What? There’s plenty of food. Besides, we don’t want her wasting away. Needs to keep her energy up. Otherwise there’s no fun.” Josh smiles at me, a full-blown Hollywood smile. On anyone else, it would be a stunning smile. A handsome man who could bed any woman he chooses. But there’s something behind his eyes. A darker, murkier side of him. It’s the same reaction I had to him at the first meeting. I wanted to shrink away from him and all of his questions last time we met. The charm he flashed wasn’t enough to calm my destroyed nerves.

Instead of taking a seat next to him, I walk around the table and sit as far away from all of them as possible.

The other brother, Nate, chuckles as he gulps from his mug of coffee. Quinn isn’t sitting down. He’s lurking around the kitchen, constantly moving. I keep my eyes focused on him, wondering if he’s going to punish me for daring to move from my room.

An assortment of delicious breakfast treats fills the table. A stack of waffles in the middle has me reaching for one before I consider asking permission. I bite the sticky treat, letting the sugary goodness dissolve in my mouth. It’s all I can do not to moan around the mouthful.

I devour the waffle and take another before I reach for the jug of orange juice and pour myself a glass. The conversation between the brothers has stopped, all three of them now showing me all their attention. If I weren't starving, I’d be worried, but I block out their gazes and continue eating.

“Our girl has an appetite.” Josh leans back and runs his eyes over me.

“She’s not our girl. She’s mine,” Quinn spits, scowling at Josh, but he doesn’t shift from the kitchen.

“Ignore them. I’m sure you’ve not had a lot of food,” Nate whispers towards me, encouraging me to keep eating. His lips twitch into a sort of smile.  

Quinn hovers, glowering at Josh and seeming to ignore me. I carry on eating, happy to have something tasty in my stomach.

“This is why you’re not in my business, Josh. Your lack of awareness proves that you have no place getting involved.”

“It’s not your fucking business, Quinn. My name is Cane, too.”

Quinn snorts, his feet moving toward Josh. “When you start acting like a Cane, I’ll treat you like one.”

“What, like you? You’re such a fucking role model.”

“Guys…” Nate starts, but a swift look from Quinn soon stops the rest of his sentence. All their eyes then shift to me as if I’m interfering with some family debate.

“Em doesn’t mind a little banter. She’s not here to pay attention. She’s here to get fucked. Pay off her debt.” Josh stands up, throwing his chair back as the words leave his mouth. I freeze, my body now on red alert.

“Josh, watch it.” Nate looks disgusted at him.

“Hey, Josh.” He turns to look at Quinn, not seeing the hard-right punch squarely aimed at his jaw before it’s too late. I gasp, surprised at the action. “I told you,” Quinn growls. “My debt. Fuck all to do with you.” He grabs Josh by his collar and drags him out through the kitchen.

He comes back a moment later without his brother.

“Eat your food, Emily,” he admonishes me. “Nate, I want to review the figures we have after the Russian job. I want them watertight.”

Quinn and Nate start some small talk about business, the altercation with Josh forgotten about. All money and accounts. I don’t track it all, but it’s clear that Quinn’s business dealings aren’t all above board. Nate keeps half an eye on me throughout. He offers me tea, and his presence begins to settle me.

Quinn doesn’t say anything else to me. He just frowns and scowls, all the time looking ready to punch someone else. He keeps clenching his right hand, the knuckles a little red from hitting Josh.

“You might want to put some ice on that,” I offer.

He looks at me with a puzzled expression. Our eyes fix on each other, and for a moment I see the man who I first met, everything else slipping away. I’m caught between wanting to go back to Friday night and re-live it all over again—the carefree excitement, the danger, the sheer daring of sleeping with someone on a first date and wanting it again—and wishing I never met Quinn.

“Ice is in the freezer.” Quinn gestures to the appliance in the corner and looks at me expectantly.  

I look at Nate, who just does his little non-smile thing, then go to the kitchen and take a cloth hanging on the cooker to lay it out ready for ice. The fridge freezer is ginormous. How Quinn has enough food to fill it is beyond me. I tug open the door and cool air blasts me. It turns out his freezer has little but ice, vodka and a few pizzas. I take the bag of ice and shake a few cubes free.

“Here.” I take the seat next to Quinn and place the makeshift ice pack on his hand. He looks at me, staring deep into my eyes as the coolness seeps into his damaged hand. I press my hand on top, making sure it doesn’t slip. In that moment, I want to ease his pain. It’s an absurd thought. I should be gouging his eyes out, not wanting to help him. But a calmness descends, easing the tension that’s been rife between us. His eyes study me, as if he’s taking mental notes of every freckle, every blemish on my face. The intensity of his eyes reminds me of our first date. They held such secrets then. Such promise of what could be to come.

He smiles for the briefest of moments, and I’m stunned, like I was on our date, at how handsome he is. “Thank you,” he says, his hand covering mine.

“You’re welcome.” I let go of the ice, my fingers slipping from under his, and retreat to the seat next to Nate. Quinn’s brows pull down into a scowl, transforming him into the man who’s terrorised me for the last…how long is it? “What day is it?”

“What day? Thursday.”

My eyes widen, and I pick at the waffle left on my plate. How has it nearly been a week? I look around the room, panic blooming in my chest. Someone will be missing me, won’t they? I can’t just vanish for a week.

“You need some more clothes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to wear leggings and a jumper every day?” Quinn counters as he stands, keeping the ice wrap on his hand.

“No. Clothes would be good. And underwear.”

“Don’t push it, Emily.”

“Give her a break, Quinn.”

“Not your business, Nate. In fact, we’re done. Email me the figures, and I’ll review them. We can look at the casino accounts tomorrow. I want a full analysis of wastage against the other operating models.”

“You got it.”

Nate stands and shoves his phone into his pocket. “Don’t forget to stand up for yourself. Chin up,” he whispers before leaving.

I wait for Quinn to say something, anything to give me a read on his mood. It seems off. Or at least it’s off compared to what I’ve seen of him. “Do you want me for—”

“Shhh. Don’t speak,” he scolds. I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Quinn’s mood swings are impossible to follow. It adds to the confusion pickling my brain. I yo-yo from being scared, interested, turned on, repulsed, ashamed, and back to attracted to Quinn, in the space of a minute.

“I’m going to check on something.”

“Okay,” I whisper, unsure if I should stay where I am, see this as an opportunity, or be disappointed he’s leaving.

“I’ll be back, and then we might go out.”

“Out?” Fear sobers my mind as I recount the last time Quinn wanted me to leave the property. Out implies something I won’t like, something that makes me nervous. I’d rather stay here than have that happen again.

“Just us this time. Don’t go anywhere, Emily. I’ll know if you try something.”