That evening over dinner, just him and I at home at his rarely used dining room table, it’s quiet, only the scraping of the silverware on the plates and the occasional comment about the delicious food.

It’s take-out, of course – I’ve grown to learn to like baking, but cooking a meal is a totally different thing. There are too many moving parts for me to master. Maybe someday, I’ll be able to make Peking roasted duck, Victor’s favorite dish from…

No. I can’t. I won’t be here. I have to reconcile myself to that fact.

I stare down at my flavorful noodles, hot and spicy and oh-so-tasty, and wonder why I can’t taste a damn thing tonight. Normally this dish sets my mouth on fire in a wonderful way. Tonight, I might as well be chewing ash.

“You don’t have to,” Victor blurts out.

I look up at him, searching his gaze in the candlelight. I want to believe him, I truly do, but that isn’t what Michael Anders said. He was so clear on that topic…

“Truly.” Victor reaches out and clasps my hand in his, stroking and squeezing it, his eyes burning with…what? Passion? Desire? Love? I can’t tell. I suddenly wish I’d thought to light more candles earlier, when setting up this dinner. Maybe if there were a hundred candles in here, I could see what Victor truly thought of me.

I could see if he loves me.

“I have to, Victor, you know that. Michael was very clear on that—”

“I can hire the best lawyers! I can get you out of that contract. Oh, I could hire you at my firm! I can always use someone with marketing smarts who can help me push my latest app to my target demographics. You’re smart and funny and gorgeous and—”

“And I need to do this. This money will help me start my life anew,” I break in gently. “I will owe Apollo a debt I can never repay, and I will have that hanging over me for the rest of my life. But at least I will have choices in what I do, and where I do it. This will give me freedom.”

He cups his hand up against my cheek and strokes it, staring at me through the flickering candlelight.

“Okay,” he says softly. “I will support you. I will be there for you every step of the way.”

I turn my face and drop a kiss into the palm of his hand. “Thank you. Thank you for everyth—” My throat is closing up with unshed tears and I’m hating myself, hating myself for letting myself fall in love with the one man I shouldn’t have, the one man I knew all along I could never have, and now, I have to live my life without him and…

I push my chair back, the scraping on the hand-carved maple wood floors loud and awful in the silence. “I’m going to go to bed early tonight,” I mumble. “Got to get lots of rest for the big day tomorrow.”

And I run to my bedroom and I fall into my bed and I worry. I worry, staring up at the darkened ceiling, with shadows and lights dancing over it from the world outside, that tomorrow, something bad will happen. I know that Apollo is supposed to buy me. I know that it’s all just a straightforward transaction, and that even if Apollo had wanted me as his sex slave, Ashley would allow that like she’d allow a hole in her head. I have nothing to fear with tomorrow’s auction.

So why do the words, “She’d belong to the Virgin Market” roll endlessly around in my head? I can’t push the worry away that something will go wrong. I’m not normally someone who believes that people can sense what will happen in the future, but tonight, with the dread curling in my stomach, it’s all I can focus on. 

I awake in the darkness and realize that Victor is picking me up and carrying me to his bedroom and I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep but having his strong arms around me, carrying me…it’s heaven. And hell. Because this is the last time. I just know it. And my tears dampen his chest and he lays me down in bed, gently stroking my hair away from my face and kissing his way down my body and whispering sweet words that say it all and yet nothing and even as I feel my need for him build inside of me, I can’t stop the endless roll of tears down my face.