The next morning, I lie in bed alone. Sunlight pours through the curtains in my room, and I haven’t called on Daphne to make me a fancy breakfast because I’m not hungry. And I know the maid is probably chomping at the bit to do her daily cleaning in here.

But none of it matters.

Cage has given me many lessons about “being his girlfriend,” but it seems I haven’t learned the most important one of all—don’t fall for a man who never made you promises in the first place.

The only upside I can see is that, after tonight’s dinner, I’ll be free. Maybe once I’m back home and I’m not in Cage’s presence any more, I’ll be out from under this strange, sensual spell he has me under.

Everything will be okay tomorrow, I think. But I’m not so certain of that.

I’m afraid I’m in way too deep now…

When my phone rings, I startle to a sitting position in bed, clutching the duvet to my chest. Is it Cage? Then just as quickly I wonder if it’s Liam, upping his game, going from texts to phone calls to harass me about the money.

I calm down just as soon as I realize that the ringtone is my mother’s.

Just before I answer, I wonder if my family has seen the society column photo of Cage and me from the other night at the art gallery. Actually, I really don’t care. That’s the least of my concerns.

I pick up the call.

“Good morning, sweetheart!” My mom sure sounds like she’s had her eggs sunny-side up today. “Or maybe I should say good afternoon since you’re still on your summer adventure back east with your friends. I always forget about the time change.”

Yeah. Summer adventure. If only she knew how adventurous I’ve gotten.

I smile as much as I’m able to, because it really is good to hear her familiar, loving voice. “Morning, Mom.”

“I just thought I’d check in before you fly home tomorrow evening.”

“I’ll still be there.”

“Oh, good. Dad and I will have your room all ready for you. I know you’ll be off to college again before we know it though. You never seem to stay in one place for long these days.”

She hasn’t said anything about seeing me on the arm of a billionaire in a society column picture, and I’m not about to bring up the subject.

As I move my legs to the side of the bed, I take in a breath at how sore I am between my legs. It reminds me that tonight is my last one with Cage, and that hurts even more.

God, I can’t think about this.

So I listen to Mom chatter about New York and how wonderful it must be. She’s never been here, so she wants to know about the restaurants and—e-hem—culture that I’m experiencing during this last hurrah before graduation. Then she mentions something that makes my hackles rise.

“This morning we got a lot of calls from an unknown number,” she says. “At first your dad and I thought you’d gotten a new phone and didn’t tell us, but I see that’s not the case. It’s probably only salesmen who don’t leave messages.”

I swallow, thinking of Liam. Is he doubling down on his harassment of me, aiming for my parents now? Is he about to tell them everything?

“There’re ways to block those calls, Mom,” I say, and somehow I sound calm.

“Okay, I’ll look it up on YouTube. There’s an answer there for everything.”

“Yeah, I’d do it soon, too.” I laugh unconvincingly, at least to my own ears. “Those calls are such a pain.”

As she goes on to ask about what she should make me for dinner after I arrive, my blood chills me and my brain is in a fog. I pray for this call to end soon, and when it does, I access Liam’s number right away then send him a text with my shaking fingers.

I promise, you’ll have your money tomorrow.

I don’t ask if he’s been calling my parents just to put more pressure on me. If he isn’t the one doing it, I don’t want to give him ideas.

His answer comes at me with blinding speed.

Promises promises, whore. You’ve taken too long.

I know that when Liam wants something, he’ll do anything to get it, and all I can do is hope that he has enough patience for one more day.

Just one is all I need.

But I’ll have to get through tonight’s dinner with Igor Vasiliev first—and that means getting through one more night with Cage.

* * *

I start preparing myself for the big dinner early.

First on my list: eating something, anything, because I might pass right out if I don’t. I put together a light salad, but I don’t have the stomach for more than that.

Second on my list: A long bubble bath that’s meant to relax and pamper me. It doesn’t, but I’m squeaky clean and I smell like peaches, which Cage will like. I don’t feel clean in so many other ways though, because if Liam carries through with the threats he’s been making, no one will ever look at me the same way again.

As I get nauseated again from sheer nerves, I tamp them down. I’m not going to make it through the night if I’m this much of a mess. Besides, my makeup and hair artist has arrived.

She’s nice, efficient, and has me looking elegant and classy in no time. She has a deft touch with my hair, which she twists into a chignon that exposes the length of my neck in the wine-colored sleeveless Chanel cocktail dress I’ve chosen.

When Cage gets home, my pulse jitters. It thuds with every step he takes down the echoing hallway to the study where I’m waiting for him with my handbag in my lap and the TV on.

I switch the TV off as he comes into the room, but I can’t switch off my emotions. They tremble at the sight of him in his perfect suit, which is gray, bringing out the tan of his skin and the blue of his eyes.

Anguish fills me up, because this is it. There’ll be no tomorrows with him.

I stand, and he silently assesses me. The makeup artist walks into the room, waiting right along with me for his verdict.

“The dress,” he says emotionlessly. “It’s not good enough.”

Not good enough for Igor Vasiliev or not good enough for him?

I doubt Cage is thinking about anything other than Igor as I go with my stylist to choose another, better dress.

He obviously doesn’t want to be kept waiting, and he comes into my room just after I’ve put on a Dolce & Gabbana that clings to my curves and flares out slightly as it ends at my knees. The fabric is black-and-white striped with tasteful, innocent flowers winding through the austere design—cute yet tasteful, especially paired with my black pumps that have straps around the ankles.

Cage tensely nods his approval, then accompanies the stylist out. Meanwhile, I finally breathe, changing out my handbag to one that matches this dress. I take care to include my lipstick, tissues, powder, and phone, which I pray won’t receive any more texts from Liam tonight.

Just one more night and I’ll be able to get rid of him…if I make it through with all these nerves attacking me.

When Cage returns, I’m just walking out of the closet, and I freeze in my steps.

He approaches me with his hands in his pockets, and the nearer he gets, the more my body responds, thumping, melting. He begins to circle me, never taking his intense gaze off of me. I gulp, feeling dominated in an entirely different way right now.

To him, I’m more of a mannequin than a girlfriend. I’m only an actress and not anyone who really matters. But that’s why I was hired. I should’ve never thought anything else.

“Do I pass?” I ask, my voice cracking.

He walks to the front of me, and my heart takes a dangerous dip, because there’s that look in his eyes again—the naked emotion that he quickly tucks away behind a curtain of darkness. Now I see the man who likes to tie me up and blindfold me. He’s never far below the surface.

My pulse flutters at the thought, but now’s not the time.

He finally speaks. “He’s going to love you, Karini.”

The way he says it… Is there something more to it?

Even though he’s still as tense as hell, he offers his arm to me, and I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow.

There’s no turning back for either of us now as he escorts me out of his apartment to the biggest dinner of our lives.