What’s it like there?” Amelia asks. I’m smiling at her through a laptop Chris is letting me use. Brooke sits beside Amelia at my desk back home, looking at me through narrowed eyes like she’s trying to see if I’m wounded.

“I haven’t seen much yet, but they apparently don’t believe in ice. A guy from the hotel ended up going on a special trip to find me ice from a grocery store when I asked about it. I tried to talk him out of it but he wouldn’t let me stop him. The Coke tastes different too.”

“Drugs already?” Brooke teases.

I roll my eyes. “Soda, you dork.”

“Did he explain what he meant about a business trip yet?” Amelia asks.

I tilt my head back and forth in a kind of “yes and no” response. “Well, first it was just a business trip and he thought having me along would help motivate him to write during the downtime.”

“And you got a free trip to Germany, all expenses paid,” Amelia says. She rubs her hands together and grins. “Free crab cakes, if you want.”

I laugh. “I’ll try to smuggle you some back. But he decided to inform me this morning that he’s going on a promotional tour to build hype for his next book. One month, seven cities all over Europe.”

Amelia’s eyes bulge. “That is awesome!”

“Wow,” Brooke says, but there’s a note of displeasure in her tone.

“I told him I can’t stick with him after Germany,” I say.

“What?” Amelia asks. “You have to. Come on.”

“You guys need me,” I say. “Besides, I don’t think I want to be around when the fangirls start showing up drooling all over him. It probably won’t be long before he decides to bring them back to his hotel and bang them across the hall from me or something.”

And after a sleepless night, I realized no matter how much my family might need the money, I can’t go through with this whole thing when I know a part of me, no matter how small, is doing it for the check Alec is promising.

“And that’d make you jealous?” Brooke asks.

I sigh. “No. It’d make me grossed out. Come on. It’s Chris freaking Savage. I’m not delusional. Whatever this trip is to him, it’s not about… that. I’m like a mascot to him or some kind of good luck charm I guess. I don’t even know.”

“False,” says Chris, who barges into my room with a key he apparently failed to mention having for my room. He’s wearing a collared shirt with a eye-catching number of buttons undone and jeans, and when he flops down on bed right beside me, I’m hit by a fresh waft of his smell—a scent I’m getting embarrassingly fond of the more time I spend around him. He lets his legs splay, pressing his thigh against mine in a careless way I’m sure isn’t by accident.

Amelia and Brooke’s eyes widen at the sight of him.

“Sorry,” he says. “Did I interrupt girl talk? Was it boys? Were you talking about boys? Me, maybe?”

“As if,” I say, hoping he doesn’t see how red my cheeks are getting.

“Lindsey wants to know what your real plan is,” says Brooke, who is wearing her best don’t fuck with my little sister face.

“Oh?” Chris asks. “Does she have amnesia? You should’ve told me about that before we went on a vacation together, babe,” he says, putting his arm around my shoulder and squeezing me like we’re a long-time couple.

I try to swallow, but my throat feels dry. “Nope, not wondering about that,” I say quietly.

“What?” asks Brooke. “You were just saying—”

“It’s fine,” Chris says smiling like he’s the nicest, least toxic man on the planet. “My real plan is to fuck her.”

My sisters’ jaws drop.

“Excuse me?” Brooke says looking less than amused. “I don’t know who—”

Chris clicks the laptop closed. “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” he says, hopping off the bed with an unusual amount of energy. “Hopefully they have a sense of humor.”

I pull out my phone and quickly text them “Will explain later. So sorry,” before directing my attention back to Chris. Not even a second draft this time. Chris really is a bad influence on me already. “Do you even understand how awkward that is?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess I can kind of imagine. I have a sister, actually. It’d be pretty mortifying to have to hear about her sex life.”

“Okay, first of all,” I say, feeling like I’m already at the end of my patience and it’s only the first morning abroad with him. “You’re not my sex life. You’re my… legs have touched a couple times and you got real close to my ear life, at best.”

“Damn,” he says with a self-satisfied grin. “Didn’t realize you were keeping a tally. Should I add something new to the board?”

“Second,” I say, trying my best to ignore that despite the tingling sensation that spreads in my belly. “You have a sister? Why have I never heard of that?”

“I guess you’re not a very good stalker,” he says with a shrug. “But yeah, I do, and I invited her to come on my little promo tour too. She should actually be here within a few hours. You’ll love her. Probably.”

“Maybe she can keep you under control,” I say with a sigh.

“You’re still thinking you won’t be here after Germany?” he asks, finally looking serious.

“It’s a miracle you even got me this far. I still can’t believe I trusted you enough to just pack my bags and hop on an airplane.”

He smirks. “Trust, lust, call it what you want.”

Chris’ agent, Alec, walks into my room with a cursory knock on the already-open door. I jump, scooting away from Chris like a teenager getting caught flirting by her parents. “This is?” I ask awkwardly, even though Alec and I both know we’ve already had our introductions. I didn’t expect to see him here, but I guess I could’ve figured it wasn’t going to be just Chris and I on a promotional tour. He probably has an entire team of staff that will be trickling in now that we’ve landed here.

“Alec,” says Chris.

“His agent,” explains Alec, who wears a friendly smile and comes to shake my hand.

Even though it’s not technically my room and it’s just a hotel room, I feel extremely uncomfortable and exposed having two men crowded around my bed when I’m not even fully dressed.

“You must be the muse,” says Alec.

I snort at that. “Hardly.”

Chris squeezes my leg with a smile that actually looks somewhat genuine. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

I clear my throat, not knowing what to say to fill the silence that follows. “Well, if we’re done having a morning meeting around my bed…”

“I’m already missing meetings?” asks a woman who pokes her head around my door and lets herself in, suitcases still strapped to her surprisingly muscular shoulders.

I can’t do anything but raise my eyebrows and let the crowd in my room grow.

“Lydia,” says Chris, who points toward the woman. “My little sister.”

“Hi,” I say a little awkwardly because I don’t have any idea if Chris has told her who I am or if she’s going to think I’m just his conquest from the night before.

“Lindsey?” she asks, answering my question. “He said you were just kind of cute,” she says, narrowing her eyes and grinning at Chris. “You liar. You didn’t want me to know she was hot so I wouldn’t think you had a crush.”

When I look over at Chris I’m shocked to see the faintest hint of red in his cheeks. He can’t actually be blushing though. Maybe when he’s really pissed his cheeks just get kind of red.

“We should give Lindsey some space,” he says, standing suddenly. “Come on,” he urges, using his long arms to shuffle everyone out of the room. He pokes his head back in the door before leaving, “We’re going out tonight. I put five thousand dollars on this card,” he says, holding up a black debit card. “Go buy yourself some fancy clothes and whatever else you want while I’m at the book signing today.”

Before I can even start to object, he frisbees the card toward me and lands it on the bed beside me.

I pick it up and look at it like it’s poisoned. Just like that? He thinks I need five thousand dollars to buy an outfit for one night? What kind of women is he used to? And when did I even agree to go out with him?

I flop back on the bed, staring at the ceiling and wishing I could just follow the brightly lit path toward whatever outcome will actually make me happy. Do I trust my body, which is very strongly recommending anything and everything that has to do with more Chris, or do I trust my heart, which is trying to tell me to stop before I fall too hard and end up getting hurt?

Compromise. That’s the answer. I’ll go out with him one time. After all, it could be his way of trying to show me what he’s really like. He might even be nice to me if it’s a date he invited me on. I mean, it wouldn’t make sense to invite me out and then be a jerk to me, right?

I get back to the hotel around five in the evening, even though I feel so tired it could be five in the morning after a night of no sleep—thank you very much, jetlag. There’s still four thousand nine hundred and seventy dollars on the card because whether it’s my money or not, the idea of spending that much on an outfit made my stomach do flips. Even the twenty I spent in a thrift store felt somewhat reckless for an outfit I might never have much occasion to use again. I made sure to pick shoes that were versatile, at least. I spent the other ten dollars grabbing a gyro at a local place. I’d never had one before, but one of the few people I found who spoke enough English to give me directions to food said I’d love it. They scraped the meat off a huge piece of lamb that was rotating under some kind of heat lamp, which was odd but kind of fun, and then slapped it into a pita with a bunch of sauce and some veggies. The end result was surprisingly good, and I think I’ll find my way back to that restaurant once or twice before I take my plane ride home in a few days.

When I get back to the hotel, I’m stopped in the lobby by Alec, who quickly ends his call and walks over to me like he has been waiting for me. “Making any progress? Chris won’t tell me anything.”

“I’m not doing it, Alec. I’m sorry, it just feels too dirty.”

He clenches his jaw, eyes boring into me. “You’re sure that’s the decision you want to make?”

I frown, not liking the tone he’s taking. “I already decided.”

“Right. We’ll see about that.” He pulls out his phone and turns, walking away without another word.

What does he mean? His tone made it sound like a threat, and my mind immediately races to think of what he could possibly use against me. I seriously doubt he’d try anything violent, but Alec looks like the kind of guy who doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty and stepping over moral lines. I can’t piece together what he could possibly do to coerce me. It’s not like anyone in my family is involved in something shady he could expose.

When I get back to my room, my mood is soured by my run-in with Alec. I open the door to my room and find Chris waiting on my bed—fully clothed, thankfully. He jumps up, setting his phone down and smiling at me in a way that’s unnervingly charming.

“What has you in such a good mood?” I ask, already feeling Alec’s threat floating to the back of my mind.

Chris shrugs. “Nothing really. Just that I wrote a few pages.”

“What?” I ask, mouth hanging open. “When did you even have time? I thought you were signing books or something?”

“It was a thirty minute drive. I just busted out the laptop and punched out a few pages.”

I can’t help laughing because he looks so happy. The usual brooding cloud that I’m used to seeing all around him is gone and all that’s left is an unusually gorgeous guy with a great smile and eyes to take my breath away.

“There’s something else though,” he says, eyebrows drawing down as he sits back on my bed. “I brought my mom’s journals. I want you to read more of them to me. Maybe tonight, after our date. I don’t think I’m going to be able to finish this book unless I’ve listened to what she wanted me to hear. They’re linked somehow.”

“Date?” I ask. “I thought you were just taking me out.”

“Date,” he confirms. “Let me see what you got.” He pulls the bag from my hand and lifts up the dress I found. It’s simple, but I thought it was a cute kind of simple. It’s white and isn’t quite as long as I’d like—falling only to just below mid-thigh, but it has crisscrossing straps that leave an open back and a embroidered pattern along the hem.

He purses his lips. “Nice,” he says.

I fish in my purse for his card and hand it back to him.

He waves it away. “Keep it. That’s yours.”

“I can’t take your money,” I say, thrusting it back at him again.

He takes it from me, giving me a strange look. “I tried really hard not to like you, you know,” he says.

His words send my heartbeat racing and makes my chest tighten. When the vast majority of things to come out his mouth are insulting or even offensive, it apparently doesn’t take much kindness to shock and flatter me. From him, even the implied compliment is a surprise.

“And how’s that going for you?” I ask.

He chuckles. “I guess you’ll have to ask me for my final opinion after tonight.”

“What, am I the one on trial? I thought this night out was your way of apologizing and trying to prove you’re not actually a self-obsessed asshole.”

Chris leans back, fixing those eyes on me that seem to be able to send waves of heat my way whenever he wills it. “If I was an asshole, it was only because I was trying to spare you.”

“Spare me? From what?”

“Me,” he says simply. “I’m not good for people, Lindsey. I use them up, just like I’ll use you up. I tried to help make it easy for you to hate me.”

“And now you don’t want me to hate you?”

He looks thoughtful, but his eyes are hard and piercing, never leaving mine. “I want to prove to myself that you’re no different than the others,” he says. “It’d be easier if you hated me, but you’ve always seen through the act, haven’t you?”

I shake my head, not fully understanding. “No different than the others?”

“The fans,” he says, standing and raking a hand through his hair. “The mobs of people who would sell their soul for a night with me because it’d give them something to tweet about or something for their snapchat story, something to brag to their friends about.”

“And what the hell have I ever done to make you think I’d be like them?” My first reaction to what he’s saying is anger. How else should I feel when he says he wants to prove to himself I’m just like every other superficial person he’s been involved with. But beneath that, I realize he’s saying he hasn’t been able to prove it to himself. He probably started out assuming I was like them, but eventually he realized I didn’t care about his money or his fame. I can’t really fault him for it either. When I think about what it must be like to have to wonder if people actually care about you or the idea of you. I can see how incredibly lonely and maddening it could be.

“Not enough,” he says. “That’s why I want to fuck you. Call it the ultimate test. If I have you all to myself for a few hours the way I want, there’d be no room for secrets. There’s truth in sex. You said you read my book, right?”

I nod my head. Shame, anger, and a guilty arousal swirl inside me. Chris Savage actually wants to sleep with me—fuck me. He hasn’t made a secret of it by any means, but until now I’ve been so certain he was just trying to mess with me. That it was yet another form of his cruelty. I thought he might want me to actually try to take him up on the offer so he could laugh in my face for thinking he was serious. But he is.

I haven’t slept with a guy since Ryan, and before that my sexual experience was embarrassingly absent, so the idea of actually having sex with Chris is borderline terrifying. Especially when he’s making it sound like the only way he’d be interested in me afterwards is if it was different than any sex he’s ever had. What chance could I possibly have of pulling that off? And would I even want to try?

“I read it,” I say finally. My thoughts are moving so quickly I can barely focus as idea after idea overlap and blur together into a confusing jumble. I can’t even decide if I would really want what he’s offering.

“It wasn’t bullshit,” he says. “What I wrote about the truth in sex. A real sexual experience doesn’t leave room for lies. Absolute trust. Absolute truth. I’ll need everything. Every last drop of what you have to offer, and I’ll have you cumming so hard you’ll still be feeling the aftershocks a week from now.”

“We can’t just go on a date like normal people and if it progresses to that, then, well…”

He shakes his head. “No. Because what I want isn’t just sex. It’s not just passion and lust boiling over. I need everything for the night. Everything.”

A chill runs up my back at the way he’s watching me. “I don’t know, I mean, I don’t think I even understand,” I admit.

“Then I’ll make it simple. You come on this date with me, and you are handing me the keys for a night. You’re setting your reservations aside. No second-guessing, no hesitation. You keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle or the ride stops, no getting back on, no apologies, no hard feelings, but it’s over. Understand now?”

“As much as I’m going to,” I say. I want to sit down or get a glass of water. Better yet, a box of wine would actually hit the spot right about now. “Do I get some time to think it over?”

“Sure,” he says. “How about thirty seconds? Yes or no?”

I do sit down now, head practically spinning. I’m split inside between wanting to just throw away my role of the rational middle sister for one night and letting it all go and worrying that it won’t just be one night. I’ll have to live with the decision I make here for the rest of my life, and for all I know, it could shape how I see myself and whether I can still respect myself. I mean, what kind of woman lets a guy treat them like Chris has treated me and then agrees to something like this?

Except for all my inward conviction that Chris has been a jerk to me, I’m also split on how accurate that really is. Yes, he has said rude things and been dismissive and crude, but most of the time, I’ve been the one seeking him out. If you jump in a shark tank over and over again and end up getting bitten, who is really to blame, you or the shark?

Then again, what I’m considering is basically an invitation to that same shark tank.

If only it were that simple.

The problem is Chris isn’t just that guy who has bruised my ego time and time again. He’s the poster-child for wounded artist, except he takes it to an entirely different level. And maybe Brooke was right. I do want to fix him, because I think he’s worth fixing.

“Three, two…” Chris counts.

“I’ll do it,” I say. The words spill out of me before I’ve fully made my decision, but I’m not going to take it back now. It’s just one night. One chance for him to prove he’s not all talk, that maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye. Besides, I’ve laid awake at night thinking about the regret I feel for not getting a funnel cake that one time at the carnival before they sold out. I’d probably never sleep again if I passed something this big up. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see if it’s big in a good or bad way. The terrifying part is, I have no idea.