I’m sitting in an office waiting to speak to the infamous Miss Black. It’s her club and the guard was beyond pissed. He took Sean before I could say anything else. Claire was afraid something horrible happened to me, and they expected to find things the other way around.

It’s going to depend on Sean and what he says to her. We were all put in separate rooms within the club to wait. It’s not a matter of being thrown out of the club. I could deal with that. It’s Miss Black’s reputation with rule breakers. She doesn’t take having sex on the premises lightly. She’s done things to people, things that makes me feel sick sitting here. She could tip off David, but that would be too direct. She’ll wait and do something else, something worse.

Before I have a chance to wonder about anything else, an older woman with a playmate figure walks into the room. She’s probably got ten years on me, and more class than I thought possible. She’s wearing a black dress that clings to her figure. Luscious black hair cascades down her back like a sheet of water. Red lips are pulled into an amused smile, which scares the hell out of me. There’s something about her that is frightening.

“Miss Driskill, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, although I must say that I’m surprised about the circumstances. I wouldn’t expect my best bottom to sexually accost another member.” She’s the devil’s daughter. I’m sure of it. Something about her scares me in a way that’s unreal.

Trying to explain, I offer, “I didn’t—”

She holds up a hand and looks irritated. “Don’t bother attempting to refute it. Mr. Ferro told me everything. It’s really too bad since you earned every perk all the way up to Level Nine. Such a shame.”

“I didn’t break the rules.” Technically. Sort of. I wasn’t in a playroom. And it wasn’t sex, like the vag-shaggers in the hallway. It was a blowjob. I doubt that rationale will go far with this woman. She’s already made up her mind. She hates me.

Miss Black walks around to a black glass desk that matches the bar downstairs and sits. She opens her hand and smiles. “Then explain. Why were you in a supply closet with a wealthy man chained to the grate? You knew it wasn’t a public area and you knew the rules.”

I start rambling, suddenly worried she’s going to have that Gabe guy tie me up and drive me away in the trunk of an old Caddy. “We were scheduled to be on stage on Level Four. I went to the prop room looking for something different, and Mr. Ferro followed me. We got locked in.”

She nods, not believing me even though that part was mostly true. “Explain why you had sex with him. Please indulge me. Was he good?”

I blink. My mouth opens and shuts. I hesitate. “What? I don’t know if he’s good, we didn’t—”

She cuts me off before I can say anything else. “Please, Paige! He was covered in sweat and chained. What was it going to be for round two?”

“Wait, we never did round one!”

She cocks her head to the side. “Really? You didn’t ride his cock so you can go brag to your girlfriends that you fucked a Ferro? Or are you going to sell pictures to the papers? He’s already been slaughtered in the press. If you think I’m going to let you-”

I jump up and slap my hands on her desk. “I did not ride him. I am not bragging. And I do not tell anyone that I come here. Ferro had nothing to do with it.”

“How dare you!” Miss Black is livid. I don’t know what I’ve said, but she clearly plans to kill me right now. Before she can stab me in the head with her pen, the door opens.

She looks like she may have an aneurism, but that viciousness retracts and she’s suddenly all smiles. “Mr. Ferro, I thought we called your car?” She looks confused, as if she expected him to be gone already.

Sean is composed again, but I sense a fragility in him that was absent before. “You did, thank you very much. I realized that I have Miss Driskill’s gloves in my car. I gave her a ride here earlier.”

“Mr. Ferro.” I nod at him, unsure.

“Again, I apologize.” Sean’s lips form a thin line as he presses them together and lets out a rush of air. His shoulders are perfectly squared and his jaw tenses once more. “Miss Black, I was aware of the rules. I take full responsibility for any infractions, as I said earlier. His eyes cut to me for a second before returning to Miss Black.

“It wasn’t a minor infraction, Mr. Ferro. You both know the consequences.” Her voice is firm and unforgiving. She folds her delicate arms across her chest and stares him down.

Charm bubbles up from somewhere inside Sean. He takes a step toward her, tipping his head to the side the slightest bit. “I didn’t want to waste an evening. Is that so wrong?”

Miss Black’s death-lock on her forearms loosens, and she rolls her eyes. “You’re both on probation until further notice.”

A smile spreads across Sean’s lips as he tucks his hands into his pockets and steps toward Miss Black. He leans in close to her ear and says something so softly I can’t hear it. He lingers there for a moment before pulling away. “Think about it.”

Whatever he said to Miss Black shocked her, because the woman is standing there with her lips parted unable to speak. Her perfectly shaped brows are high on her face, and her hands fall to her sides.

“Miss Driskill, if you’ll follow me.”

---

Before I can say anything, we’re out the door.

I’m on his heels when the elevator door slides open. He pushes me inside, even though I’m trying to get back into that office. “Sean, stop. I need to go back.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “That’s the worst thing you can do.”

“But she has my collar! Do you know what I had to do to earn that? I can’t leave it there.” I feel sick. As the elevator descends to the ground floor, it’s clear that I’ve lost it.

Sean is leaning against the wall of the elevator. When we are about to reach the ground level, his arm juts forward and pulls the emergency stop. The little room buzzes and then goes dark before a red light illuminates the tiny space.

Before I can ask what he’s doing, his body presses mine against the wall. His breath is in my ear. “What you did up there was off limits. It was out of line.” He’s angry. His words come out in a rush with a decent amount of force for a whisper.

The way he’s behaving makes my pulse race. The hairs on the back of my neck rise on end and a hollow spot forms in the center of my chest. I manage to keep the fear out of my voice, barely. “It was what you needed.”

“No, it wasn’t. It didn’t help. It didn’t free me. If anything, you shoved me face-first into the memory that I wanted to forget.”

“I know.” I turn my face away from him. I can’t help it. He can’t know, but at that moment he seems to sense it.

“You know? What the fuck does that mean?”

I’m trying so hard to stay still, but my arms are starting to shake. I feel the sensation snaking its way up from my fingers. Soon it’ll choke my voice and force tears from my eyes. He presses his chest against me harder. His hands jerk to my cheeks, turning my face toward his—to meet those eyes that turned to ice. He can feel my tremor beneath his hand, but he doesn’t release me.

“We’re the same—”

He cuts me off. “No, we are not.”

“Fine, pretend that you’re okay, but I’m done pretending, and if you’d listen to me for half a second, you’d be done, too.” His grip loosens, but he doesn’t step away.

“Explain.” It’s a single word command.

I swallow hard and give the explanation that’s been forming in my mind since we were caught. “Most people who enjoy edge play like the thrill of it—they want to be commanded and pushed right up to the edge. But for people like us, that does nothing, unless you’re the top. Unless you push the bottom just past the edge, a fraction of an inch past their breaking point.”

Sean releases me and steps back. He stares, shocked. “You knew what you were doing?”

I nod. “Edge play can be fatal if you do things that endanger the bottom’s life, but what if you found their worst fear and pressed it? Most people have a breaking point, but their caution flags shoot up way before they reach the cliff. What if you were to take them to the edge of that precipice and dangle them over the edge?”

Sean stands there breathing hard, eyes wide and darkening by the moment. It's as if he’s fighting my suggestion, even though he sees the allure. Without a word, he smacks the button that brings the elevator to life again. His eyes look me over once, and then again.

When the doors slide open, Gabe frowns at us and I hurry past. Sean walks in long strides, his long black coat billowing behind him like some kind of supervillain. I rush up beside him and follow him out of the club and toward his car. It’s waiting next to the curb. The driver rushes around to open the door, but Sean remains next to me. It’s late now, and the sidewalks are mostly empty. Many of the grates are closed across the front of the stores that line the streets. A store owner a few doors down is washing off the section of cement in front of his store with a hose.

I wrap my arms around my middle and shiver. My coat is still inside, and I’m standing in public wearing next to nothing. Sean doesn’t offer me a ride. He doesn’t say to climb into the car. He just watches me.

I want to yell at him, but I reign in my temper and find some composure. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done it. The thing is, while it was happening, I didn’t feel that dread anymore. The pain lifted, and I felt like I could control my life once more. That unsettling feeling vanished. For a moment, I was safe.”

“I understand why you did it, but you crossed a line, Miss Driskill.” Sean notices me shivering and rubbing my hands over my arms. He seems aggravated, but he shucks his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders.

“I don’t need it.” I pull the coat off and try to shove it back, but he won’t take it.

“You have enough issues without your boss seeing you here with me. Add in that outfit and it’ll be clear that your code of ethics is rather questionable. Put the jacket on.”

He’s right, so I stop fighting him. I jam my fist through one sleeve and then the other. I wrap the fabric tightly around in front and fold my arms over my chest to hold it closed. “Maybe I should apologize, but I can’t. Sean, if I let you do it to me—you’d see what I’m talking about.”

His gaze narrows, and he steps into my space. His lips curl as if he’s disgusted. “I don’t want to see. I’d rather not know what it feels like to rip someone to shreds and then get off on it. That's not playing, Miss Driskill. It’s an attribute that needs psychological help.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” I’m in his face, spewing things that I’ve never said to anyone. “You don’t think I’ve gone to counseling, tried therapy, prescriptions, and anything else that could possibly help me to deal with what happened to me? Nothing else works! And you know that because you’re dealing with the same thing.”

“Normal people place parameters on behavior and what you’re suggesting exceeds that by far!”

“Normal people don’t have to deal with the lots we were handed. Normal people can say what’s moral, because their survival isn’t filled with bloody deaths that never stop screaming. When they go to sleep at night, they worry about work, money, family, and things that we would love to be freaking out over. We don’t sleep. There is no silence for us—no peace. When things slow down, we hear their voices and pleas, and it makes no fucking difference because we can’t change the past. We both stood there, useless. We take no pleasure in anything, and I’m not even sure I remember what pleasure feels like. I haven’t felt anything but fear and grief for so long. It’s every day and it never stops. There’s no way around it, so the only path left is to walk right through it and hope to God that there’s something on the other side. But you know what? There is no other side. I’ve been walking for years and there’s nothing. I’m trapped, stuck in the middle of a nightmare that never ends. I can’t wake up, I can’t change it, and I can’t escape. That’s how we’re the same—we’ve died, but we’re not dead—we’re stuck here living a hellish existence with no way out. So, how can we possibly fall into their set of rules?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Maybe you think I’m a monster, but I’m not doing that to you, Paige. I’m not getting off by torturing you. I know what happened to you—why you’re like this. I know that you’re trying to forget what happened to your mother. I know what you fear the most.”

I can’t swallow. My mouth is dry and my jaw is locked. I stand there in front of him, feeling like shit. I want to cry, but I can’t. I have no tears. “Don’t judge me too harshly, Sean. There will come a time when you can’t stand it anymore, and when that time comes, you know where I am. I won’t condemn you for it. It’s just the way it is for people like us. We’re not monsters, but we’ve seen things that are so dark no amount of light makes them better. Do what you need to do to ease your conscience, but you’re going to face this sooner or later.”

“No, I won’t.”

---

I’d rather stab myself in the face with a fork than sit in court the next day. I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to see Sean. I’m nervous he’s going to say something about the club or the other night, but he doesn’t even look at me.

Days pass, curiosity gets the better of me, and I find myself snooping around Club Noir. I can’t go upstairs without my collar, and Gabe will snitch to his boss if he sees me, so I wear my hair down, letting it become a brown sheet that covers half my face. I stopped at Sephora on the way over and told them to make me look like a picture I found on Pinterest. Forty-five minutes later, I’m wearing enough makeup that even David wouldn’t recognize me. Since he’s totally anal, that’s saying something.

I sit at the sleek black bar and sip my drink. The evening crowd trickles in slowly and the place is bursting at the seams by midnight. There’s no sign of Ferro. Probation or not, I was sure he’d show.

I down my last drink and stand, straightening my skirt and tucking my long hair behind my ear before heading outside. The night air is freezing. My jacket is MIA, but I still have Sean’s soft wool coat. I tug up the collar and push through the front door.

My gaze is on the sidewalk, noticing the splotches of water that fall from the sky. It’s raining. I step toward the curb with the intention of hailing a cab when a black Bentley pulls up in front of me. The window slides down part way. Sean sits inside concealed in shadows.

“Are you looking for trouble, Miss Driskill?” His voice is flat, lifeless. It’s as if with every passing day, there’s less and less of him.

“It depends. Are you trouble, Mr. Ferro?” I lean in toward the window and catch his eyes. They’re vacant, hollow

He ignores the question. Instead, he lets his eyes sweep over me before saying, “Nice coat.”

I smirk and straighten. Pulling at the lapel, I twirl to show it off. “It is, actually, very warm and soft.” He doesn’t smile. I get serious. “Actually I came here to give it back to you.”

“Lies don’t become you, Miss Driskill.” The raindrops grow bigger until it’s pouring. I start to pull my arms out of the long coat, getting ready to shove it through the window when he suddenly opens the door. “Come inside, and keep the coat. I wouldn't want to win this court case because Cunning lost his prodigy.”

Shocked, I stand there for a moment. Water pours off my hair and drips into my eyes and mouth. He thinks I’m smart? The man who believes he’s smarter than God said I’m a prodigy.

“Don’t look so shocked, Paige. We both know what you are.”

That sounds like an insult. “What would that be, Sean?” I step toward the car, drenched, with his coat hanging over my arm.

“You’re willing to do whatever it takes to survive, to win, to live. It’s a trait that doesn’t remain neatly in the center of a compartment in your mind. It affects everything you do. Even right now, you’re trying to discern whether or not to accept a ride. You know you can’t find a cab.”

“Actually, I’m trying to decide why you’re following me. You said I was a deviant, and you wouldn’t ever do what I did, yet here you are. Did you change your mind?” I place my hand on the roof of the car as I speak, leaning in close enough to drip on his designer suit.

His jaw tightens at the suggestion, and those dark lashes lower to the pavement. When he looks into my face once more, there’s a plastic smile on his mouth. “Far from it. I realized I have a piece of trash, and I’m trying to decide how to part with it.” He reaches down and lifts something off the seat next to him. The gems catch my eye, and I realize it’s my collar. The band twists and I can see the embossing on the inside of the leather: PAIGE DRISKILL ~ CLUB NOIR.

Don’t react. I chant the words over and over again to prevent myself from lunging for the collar. I remain in place, dripping on a billionaire, and getting wetter by the moment.

He twists the band between his fingers and looks at it. “The fact that I know you’re smart isn’t the issue here. No, my thought is singular. The question is, can David Cunning win my case without you? My thoughts on the matter are clear.” He smirks, and those eyes connect with mine, making my stomach plummet to the pavement. “It would be a shame if this were to turn up at your office.”

I work my jaw and let out a crazy sounding laugh. “What do you want?”

Sean steps out of the car, into the rain. His dark hair is instantly wet and hanging in his eyes. He leans in, close enough to touch without touching, and speaks next to my ear. “When I decide, I’ll let you know.” He pulls back a little bit and looks at me. It’s as if he wants to say something, but he’s conflicted.

There’s a war raging inside of him. I can see it. His walls are thick and hardening. Sean Ferro will be a devastatingly ruthless man when this is over. The worst part is that I’m the one who made it happen.

When he speaks again, his voice is softer. “I’ll be in touch.” The last word purses his lips so that they nearly touch mine. In the cold rain, I can sense his warm lips. I almost lean in, but I’m afraid.

What have I done?

---

The trial drags on and every day my stomach is in knots waiting for him to expose me. David is the king of black and white. There is no room for anything like Club Noir in his office. No explanation could make him understand, so I remain silent, waiting.

Sean’s demeanor becomes colder in court. I don’t even need to draw attention to it anymore. He’s becoming the monster I painted him to be—sitting there stoic and calloused. When we show pictures of his dead wife, he doesn’t cry, look away, or show any signs of remorse. David uses Sean’s apathy, drawing attention to it. He’s not the only one. The press is there every day, and they never give up.

Sean has a never-ending stream of people who swear at him and curse him as he comes down the steps of the courthouse every day. Tonight, I remain on the top steps watching him descend. They hurl insults along with malicious words. New Yorkers aren’t kind people to begin with, and Sean has crawled under their skin. They think he’s a killer, that he brutally murdered his pregnant wife and called 911 while laughing about it. I may have leaked that part. It was the nail in the coffin of his public perception.

As Sean’s feet shuffle down the steps, he stops. David is speaking to a reporter and can’t turn to look, but I can. An older man yells at him, his reddened face haggard as he yells. Sean’s spine is straight, and he doesn’t flinch. He stands there taking the verbal assault. His jaw is locked, almost defiantly so. His hands hang by his sides, and his fingers rest against his suit pants. The hand closest to me, the hand that’s turned away from the crowd, presses into his leg for a moment. It’s the only sign this man has affected Sean in any way.

When I get home later, I push the door open and stand on the threshold. Jess is belting out Abba at the top of her lungs while dancing around the apartment with headphones on. Her eyes are closed, and she’s a dancing queen. I wish I could forget reality that easily. Maybe I need more Abba.

Or maybe not. I close the door and stand in the hallway staring at the knob. My life is a black hole. It sucks everything to oblivion. I’m so turned around I no longer know what to do. It’s almost midnight. I’ve been shuffling through files and looking at papers for David all night. I’m seeing double and ready to pass out.

I press my back against the wall and slide down to the floor. I stick my feet out in front of me and kick off my heels. I watch at the stairwell for a while, not thinking anything until two feet stop in front of me. Shiny expensive shoes by that new guy—I’m blanking on his name. When I glance up, I nearly choke. “Sean?”

He stands there, still wearing his suit from court. His dark hair is hanging in his eyes like he was pulling at it for hours. The dark circles under his eyes that have grown too big to go unnoticed. His hands are by his sides. He flexes his fingers once, then twice, and clears his throat before he speaks. “I’ve changed my mind.”

---

I’m still sitting on the floor, legs crossed at the ankles, and looking up at him. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Jess belts out from behind the door, “I’m the dancing quee-bfff!” There’s a series of thuds as she falls to the floor. I pinch the bridge of my nose and try not to laugh. I’d ask if she’s okay, but she’s already singing again and jumping around the room.

The guy below us is banging on the ceiling and yelling, “Shut the fuck up!”

I look up at Sean with tired eyes and take a deep breath before pushing my hair out of my face. “Listen, I’m no longer interested. As you can see, I need to keep my roommate from getting evicted for being young, free, and way older than seventeen. I’m living with the dancing queen. She’s kind of a pain in the ass, and I’m not in an Abba mood or I’d be on the other side of the door.”

Sean presses his lips together as if he’s trying not to laugh. “I can see that.”

I give him a look. “Bite me.”

“I already offered. You said you’d rather help out your friend. Have a good night.” He turns and heads for the stairs.

Before he’s down the first step, I call out, “Who was that man?”

He stops and looks over at me. “Amanda’s father.” There’s no further explanation. He just turns and vanishes down the staircase.

“Wait, what?” I scurry to my feet, scooping up my shoes and bag, before rushing after him. “Sean, hang on a second.” I’m a flight above him and see his dark head bobbing down the flight below. One more and he’s out the door.

No wonder why he came looking for me tonight. His own father-in-law publicly accused him of murder. I slip as I round the landing and catch myself before I fall on my butt. I make a weird strangled sound before I right myself. Sean stops and looks up. He stands perfectly still, and those bright blue eyes look up at me. His lips are parted the tiniest amount as if he wants to speak. His strong hands grip the banister harder making his fingertips turn red. He closes his eyes and turns his face to the side for a moment, working his jaw. When he opens those dark lashes, he drops his hand from the railing and continues down the staircase.

“Sean!” I call after him and fly down the stairs, but he’s too far ahead of me.

He disappears through the door before I reach the ground floor. Panting, I shove out the glass door and onto the sidewalk. My stockings cling to the pavement as I take a few steps in each direction, trying to see where he went. There are too many people, even now. New York never sleeps. It’s always running, always bustling. Yellow cabs blur by as the sound of the city fills my head. I walk down the block and try to see if he’s on foot, but Sean probably ducked into his car and took off.

Today was one of the worst days of his life. Tomorrow won’t be better. Sean knows that. It’s why he was here, and I turned him away. I press my fingers to my forehead to ward off a headache and dip my head.

A hand touches my shoulder lightly and jerks me from my thoughts. I scream like a crazy woman and round on my assailant with my heels aimed at his face. A strong arm juts up and blocks me before my heel connects with his temple. Breathing hard, I stand there staring into Sean’s face.

He opens his mouth and then shuts it again. He does it several times before he says, “I can’t go home. I can’t. Not today. Not ever again. If I walk away from this, I’m leaving New York. I’ll never come back.”

I watch his lips move and notice that he’s pulled his tie loose from around his neck. Stubble dusts his normally clean-shaven face, and his eyes look weary. I nod and lower my gaze to the sidewalk. “I can understand that.”

“Come with me. Tell me what you know—how you live with it. You started to, and I told you to stop. I judged you when I should have been listening.” He’s watching me so intently that the pit of my stomach drops.

Just then, a woman walks by and spits on Sean. She keeps walking and screams, “Monster!”

Sean removes his handkerchief from his breast pocket and wipes it away. He doesn’t seem phased, but I know he isn’t unaffected. “Don’t pity me.”

“I don’t. I agreed with her at one point.”

“And now—?”

Inhaling sharply, I blurt out the thoughts I’ve wanted to say for so long. “Now I wonder what I would have done if they'd said I’d killed my mother. I wonder how I would have survived if they thought my hands were covered in her blood because I hurt her, if they hadn’t realized I tried to help even though it was too late. Now I realize what I’ve done. There’s only one monster standing here, Sean, and it isn’t you.”

His castle keep is built, and sealed. There’s no light in his eyes, not anymore. Sean holds out his hand. “There’s a hotel not too far from here. Come with me.”

---

I remain in the bar until Sean finishes checking into a room, and then meet him there. No one can see us together. I have something he needs, I’m just not certain I want him to try it out on me. Once Sean understands what I’m about to tell him, he will be truly frightening.

I raise my hand to knock on the door, but it swings open before I make a sound. Sean is standing there in his dark pants and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, the tie long removed. One hand holds a crystal glass with amber liquid while the other holds the door open. “Come in.”

I pass under his arm, wishing my racing heart would slow down. My palms are sweaty, and I can’t swallow. Nervously, I glance around the room. It’s large, with a big four-poster bed overlooking the city from behind wraparound picture windows and a little balcony. There’s an enormous white marble bathroom off the bedroom with a tub and a separate shower.

I pull off my heels and pad over to the windows in my ripped stockings. The city always looks so peaceful from up high. I press my fingers against the cold glass and look down.

I feel Sean behind me. His presence is unmistakable because it’s both alluring and frightening at the same time. “Tell me what to do.”

I turn and look up at him. His body is tense, with every muscle corded tight. “I can’t. It doesn’t work that way, Sean. You have to find it—something that makes you feel free and in control. It’s not going to be something we’ve already done, or you’d know. It’s going to be something different every time, something I wouldn’t want to face in the daylight, never mind at night.”

“Explain.” He sets the glass down on top of the bar, and then walks over to me. He takes my hands and pulls me toward the bed.

I move slowly, one foot and then the other. “I don’t know how it works, but when I was with you the other day—it was like that. It freed me for a while. It’s almost as if your fear fed my peace.”

“It’s a parasite relationship.” He rubs his thumbs over the back of my hands, down by my wrists. He glances up at me from under his lashes, wanting to hear more.

“In some ways, yes, I guess it is. What I did to you—it was something you didn’t want. If you hadn't been chained, what would you have done?”

He blinks and drops my hands, ready to step away, but I reach out and take hold of his wrists. “You know, so tell me. You had a clear thought—something that wasn’t kosher.”

He pulls away and turns his back on me. “It was far past kosher, farther from sane than anything I’ve ever thought before. It was an image, something that I couldn’t do to anyone, especially not you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s cruel.” He looks over his shoulder and swallows hard. Those eyes that have been so cold and unfeeling fill with an unreadable emotion.

“What I did to you was cruel. I stole something from you—something you intended to keep for her—right?”

He turns toward me and nods. “What you did was not fucking, what you did was sex—and sex is like food, it’s a necessity of life. You destroyed an act I wanted to keep pure.” Anger seeps into his voice, and he does little to hide it.

“I wanted it, so I took it. That’s the way this works. It requires more trust than anything else. I’m giving you permission to take me to the edge and hold me over the side—just don’t drop me. That’s the only rule. Don’t push me so far I can’t come back.” I touch his arm and look up at him.

He pulls away and shakes his head. “I can’t. It’s too much. It’s over the line, a line I don’t want to cross.” His voice fades on the last words.

I walk up behind him and speak carefully. My hands hover over his back. “It’s something you need to do, something you want, or you wouldn’t have come looking for me. You don’t need a fuckbuddy, Sean. You need someone who can both dish it out and take it. You need me.” I rest my hands on his shoulders and trail my finger along the back of his neck, knowing he’ll hate it.

Sean rounds on me faster than expected and shirks me off. “Don’t.”

“Do it.” I step closer to him.

Sean shakes his head and backs up. “No. Let me think.”

“There’s nothing to think about. It’s an instinct. Act on it. Do it.” I reach for him again, trying to bait him. I touch his cheek, tracing my finger along his jaw before his hand grips mine hard and throws me off.

Sean sits down on the bed, grabs his head in his hands, and pulls at his hair. “I can’t accept this. I shouldn’t have come here.” His voice is barely audible. He runs his hands through his dark hair a few more times before gritting his teeth and shaking his head.

He’s fighting his moral compass. It’s telling him not to cross this line. Maybe I should listen. Maybe I should leave, but I feel I owe him this. Before I know what I’m saying, I tell him, “It was me. I’m the one who suggested you’re a monster. It was my idea to make people think you were laughing when you called 911. The woman who spit on you today—I can take credit for that. Everyone hates you because of me. It wasn’t David or anyone else. I took this case because I wanted everyone to hate you as much as I did.”

As I speak, he continues to hold his head in his hands, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe. A moment of silence passes between us and when Sean stands I’m truly afraid. The way he looks at me makes my body react. My fight or flight instinct kicks in and my feet want to run, but I lock my knees in place.

“You did that? You were the one who told those lies?” His eyes narrow to thin slits and I know I’ve given him enough reasons to leave his morals behind.

“Yes.” I say it proudly and smile at him. “All of it was my idea, and whatever you want to do now, I’m saying yes. Cane me, whip me, tie me up and use me. Do whatever it is you imagined.”

Sean leans in close to my ear and grabs the hair at the nape of my neck. He jerks my head back and hisses in my ear. “I’m going to take you to the edge and hold you there until you scream for me to stop, but I won’t. That’s what you’ve done to me with your lies. You wanted a monster, Miss Driskill—well, here he is.”

It’s part of the game, part of the play. I know it is, but I’m shaking so hard I can’t stop. I try to pull away, but he won’t let me. Before I can scream, Sean twists me around, ripping off my blouse and tearing the fabric as he goes. He takes it in his hands and tears it down the middle, twice, making one strip of cloth and then another. Gasping, I stand frozen, watching. He reaches for me again and rips off my skirt, and tosses it aside. I’m left standing in a pair of white undies and a nude colored bra.

He looks at me, his eyes seeing something else, something to come. He rips off my bra and then while I’m still screaming from that, he grabs my panties with both hands, tearing them off my body.

No. Oh, God, no! Trembling, I back away from him. I know what he’s doing, and I’m panicking—I can’t submit to what he wants. Hands up, palms toward him, I shake my head and plead. “Please, don’t. Not this.”

He doesn’t listen, nor does he stop. He takes my wrists and pulls them behind my back, tying them together with the scraps from my panties. After that, he pushes me down on the bed, face-first, holding me there until I can barely breathe. When he pulls my hair, my head tips back and my mouth hangs wide open, gasping for air. Suddenly a strip of cloth—my shirt—is gagging me. He stuffs the fabric into my mouth then ties a second layer across it and behind my head.

Every movement is executed precisely—as if he'd been there, as if he'd seen the files of how my mother was raped and stabbed. They used her clothes to tie her up and gag her. They forced her onto the bed, and then dragged her onto the floor in the kitchen and stabbed her in the side after drawing on her arms and legs with the tip of the blade.

He can’t. I pull at my bindings, but they’re becoming tighter. My wrists ache, and I struggle to breathe. He holds me on the bed, leaning on my back, as I fight against him, but there’s no point. He’s too strong.

When I feel the cold cloth around my ankles, I lose it. I try to kick, feeling my mind slip too far into panic. My heart is ready to burst through my chest, and my mind can’t process that this is real. I feel something within me wither and back away. It slips from place, like a fallen ribbon.

Sean pushes me to the floor and binds my feet behind my back. They raped her before they did this. Sean didn’t rape me. He didn’t touch me like that, but the rest is the same, accurate. Using my clothes, ripping them, throwing me on the floor and tying me like this. Everything is identical, except the rape. My face presses against the carpet, and I’m helpless. I lay on my belly, tied up like an animal. Sean walks past me and turns off the lights one by one, plummeting us into darkness.

The weight of my body in this position makes my breasts ache. I never lay like this; I never want to remember that night. Now I’m reliving it in a way I never imagined. Tears roll down my cheeks as I wait for the next part. I wonder if he’ll cut me, if he’s lost his mind. When I feel the cold steel on my leg, I scream into the gag. I try to pull away, but I’m bound too tightly. I feel the cold cuts of a blade, one by one, followed by a warm drip of blood. He does one leg and then the next, marking me with the same symbols, the same words. When he straddles my back, I already know what he’s going to carve into my skin. WHORE. It was there on my mother.

The long lines of the W cutting into my skin are too much. I buck and try to roll over, but he doesn’t let me. Sean presses me down with one hand while he cuts me with the other.

When he finishes, he grabs hold of my ankles and pulls me across the room. The carpet burns my breasts, but I’m no longer screaming. I’ve retreated to the back of my mind, to a place filled with buzzing silence, where I can’t feel what he’s doing to me. It’s a place where it doesn’t matter.

I’m limp when he drags me into the bathroom. The cold marble doesn’t register, even though it’s pressing against my breasts and stomach. My cheek is pressed to the floor as he walks away. I’m left like that, lying in a pool of warm blood on the cold floor.

This is how I found her. This is what I saw when I ran inside that day. I cut her free and watched her pale hand fall limply into a puddle of blood. The movement in my mind is suddenly real. My wrists fall freely to the floor, and someone is rolling me over. I don’t struggle. I don’t fight.

I see Sean looking down at me as he bends over to lift me up into his arms. He carries me over to the bed and places me on the white sheets. He reaches for the remnants of the ankle restraints and pulls them away. He spreads my legs and unzips his pants. I’m aware of him, but I no longer care. I’m here, but I’m not.

The gag remains. He takes my hands and places them above my head and leans in closely, and kisses my breasts. I feel him pressing against my core as he shifts, pressing his body to mine. He moves and rocks into me gently. He holds my hips in his hands and pushes into me slowly. His sapphire eyes lock on my face as he does it. He fills me, pushing in deep, over and over again. He doesn’t speak as he does it. There are no false words—only the sound of his breathing becoming more and more jagged.

His hands cup my ass as the rhythmic rocking turns frantic. He pushes in harder and faster, until that last time where he slams into me as deep as possible and arches his back. His eyes close and he stays like that for a moment before his shoulders sag, and he collapses on top of me.

He rolls off of me, and I feel my mind slowly turning over, wondering how long it will take for me to die. I don’t move when he gets up and turns on the shower. I assumed I’d be too weak. I blink and wonder why it feels like I’m waking up. I wiggle my toes and am surprised when they move. I sit up, shocked that I can. I pull the gag from my mouth and touch my arms. They’re wet, but when I pull my hand away, there’s no blood. It’s too dark in here. I can’t see what he did to me.

I slip out of bed, and pad to the bathroom. The lights are bright and blur my vision. I blink and rub my eyes as I walk over to the mirror. I expect to see my body covered in cuts and blood pouring down my arms, but when I wipe my hand across the glass—there’s nothing there. No blood. No cuts.

I glance down at my legs and see it’s the same. Sean is in the shower. I walk over and pull the door open. I feel half alive. It’s like he sucked every last drop of sanity and hope from my entire body.

He smiles at me awkwardly and holds out his hand. “Come in.”

I shake my head, instinctively backing away. “What did you do to me? I thought there was a knife. I felt the cuts and the blood.” My voice is shaking, and it’s not until then that I realize my entire body is shaking.

Sean holds out his hand, palms up. “Touch my hand, Paige. Do it. What you're feeling will fade the more you touch things and people.”

I don’t believe him, but I feel too weird. I reach out and touch the pad of his finger. The normal simmering spark between us amplifies, feeling like licking a light socket. The charge rushes through me, enough that I gasp and pull away.

Sean lowers his hand and explains. “That happened to me, too, after you did that to me.”

“I did not do this to you.”

“Yes, you did. You made me relive something that pushed me too far. You didn’t break me, but it came close. I did the same thing to you.” I can’t read his thoughts or tell if he has any remorse. I’m not sure if I care.

My arms are over my breasts even though my bottom is bare. I feel fragile like I might come unglued. “I felt the knife. I felt blood.”

“It was warm oil and a letter opener, Paige.”

I stand there, thinking, still unable to believe it even though both objects are on the counter. Before I can say anything else, he steps out of the shower, naked and dripping. He walks over to me and stops before touching me. Water beads on his hair and drips from his chin. “Thank you. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. I owe you, Paige.”

“No, you don’t. I did this to you. I caused your suffering to be more than anyone could possibly bear. The worst part is I know you didn’t do it. I just don’t understand why you aren’t trying to kill the person who did. Amanda’s killer is still walking around.”

He shakes his head and averts his eyes. “That person won’t kill anyone again.”

My eyebrow jumps into my hairline. “You can’t tell me things like that. I have to report it.”

He steps closer, his naked body barely touching mine and I’m such a freak because I want to jump him. He shakes his head. “You asked a question. That’s the answer. Amanda’s killer is gone. There’s nothing to report or call.”

His hands are on mine, and I’m not sure if I did it or he did. “You didn’t do it?”

He shakes his head. “No.” His voice is soft.

“I believe you.”

Sean touches my face and wipes the tear stains off my face with his thumb. “Let me help you feel a little bit better, if you trust me.”

I feel a smile take hold of my mouth as I nod. “A girl’s got to eat.”

“True.” Sean’s mouth comes down on mine, and he kisses me softly.

---

The trial ended a few weeks ago, and Sean Ferro is no longer the heir to a massive fortune because he walked away from it. That made my jaw drop, but he did it. He took the first plane out of New York and hasn’t looked back.

Sean did something with me that plummeted my mind into darkness and then brought me back to life. It was frightening and glorious. I’ve never forgotten him because of it.

It’s early spring, and daffodils are popping up in Central Park. I’ve gotten back into the habit of jogging, and I value that time in the morning more than anything else. Since my night with Sean, the mental barricade I was afraid to acknowledge is no longer there. I no longer need Club Noir, and have no intention of ever going back.

I shower and dress before Jess falls out of bed and heads to her yoga class. I spend the day crushing bad guys and wishing I had someone to share my nights. I’m not exactly lonely. I just know there’s someone out there for me, and I haven’t bothered to look for him.

When I get home that night, Jess has a bucket of chicken. I smile at her and plop down on our couch.

Jess hands it to me. “Your favorite, right?”

I take the bucket, thinking it’s filled with fried chicken and glance inside. Buttermilk biscuits. I grin at her. “Oh, my, God! How’d you know?” I pop a piece of bread in my mouth and savor the flavor. I swear it’s like these are deep fried angels or something—they taste like heaven in my mouth.

“Well, you’ve been working too hard and running too much.” She sips her huge-o bottle of water and lifts a chicken leg to her mouth.

“You’re a yoga teacher!”

“And I’m eating fried chicken and our living room isn’t Feng Shui enough. I know. My aura is totally out of whack. It’s throwing me off. By the way, this came for you today. I found it stuffed in the mailbox.”

She tosses me a beat up padded envelope. I put down my food, rip it open, and look inside. A smile creeps across my face as I recognize the black leather collar with nine stones.

There’s a note enclosed:

He sent it back. It means I no longer need to worry about this suddenly showing up and ruining my career.

“What is it?” Jess asks.

“Just junk mail. Nothing important.” Not anymore. I get off the couch, pad across the apartment into the kitchen, and open the garbage pail.

I toss the package in the trash with no regrets. That part of my life is over and I’m glad. I finally understand how people get over Club Noir and move on from the dark places in their past. I’m finally there. I’m ready to start looking for Mr. Right.

---

---

---

THE ARRANGEMENT

Chapter 1

The night air is frigid. It doesn’t help that I’m stuck wearing this little black dress in my crap car. I shiver as I try to keep the engine running at a red light. My little battered car is from two decades ago and stalls if I don’t rev the engine while I have my foot on the brake. I’m driving with two feet, in a car that’s supposed to be an automatic. The heater doesn’t work. If I try to turn it on, I’ll get my face blasted with white smoke. It’s awesome, in an utterly humbling kind of way. At least the car is mine. It gets me where I need to go, most of the time.

The light flips to green and I botch it. I don’t gas the car enough and it shudders and stalls. I grumble and grab for the can of ether. The cars behind me blare their horns.

I ignore them. They can go around me. I grab the can on the seat next to me, kick open my door, and walk around to the hood. I shake the can and spray it into the engine intake. The car will start up as soon as I turn the key now, and I can drive away in shame.

The night air is crisp and filled with exhaust. This road is always busy. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is. Angry drivers move around me. Everyone is always in a hurry. It’s part of the New York frame of mind. I’m treated to a catcall as a car full of guys blows past me. I flip them the bird and hear their laughter echo as they fade from sight.

Tonight couldn’t possibly get any worse. I put the cap on the can of ether. Then it happens. My night takes a one-eighty straight into suckage.

As I drop the hood, it slams shut, and I look through the windshield. “Seriously?” I say at the guy who jumps in my seat. He’s wearing a once-blue fluffy coat and hasn’t shaved for weeks. He turns the key and my crappy car roars to life. He gasses it and takes off, swerving around me. I stand in the lane staring after him. What a moron. Who’d steal that piece of trash?

Still, it’s my car and I need it. After the night I had, I don’t want to run after him, but I have to. I need that car. I take off at a full run. My lungs start to burn as I suck in frozen air and exhaust. I run down the shoulder, avoiding trash that’s laying in the gutter. My attention is singularly focused on my car. I push my body harder and feel my muscles protest, but I don’t hold back. He’s getting away.

I manage to run a block when a guy on a motorcycle slows next to me. “That guy stole your car.” He sounds shocked.

I can’t see his face through the black helmet. It has a tinted visor that covers his face. “No shit, Sherlock,” I huff and keep running. My purse is in the car, my only pair of work-acceptable heels, my books—awh, fuck—my books. I paid over a grand for those. They’re worth more than the car. I run faster. My dress flares around my thighs as my Chucks help me sprint forward. My body doesn’t want to do it. The stitch in my side feels like it’s going to bust open.

The guy on the bike is annoying. He rolls next to me and flips up his face shield. I glance at him, wondering what he’s doing. Biker guy looks at me like I’m crazy. “Are you trying to catch him?”

“Yes,” pointing ahead, huffing. There are three lights on this stretch of road before the ramp to get on the parkway. If he hits a red light, the car will stall and I’ll get it back. My lungs are burning and it’s not like I have time to explain this. My car has already passed the first light. “If he stops, the car will stall.”

“You want me to help?” he glances at the car and then back at me.

I stop and nearly double over. Holy hell, I’m out of shape. I nod and throw my leg over the back of his bike, flashing the cars driving past us. I so don’t care. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I hold on tight and say, “Go.”

“I was going to call the cops, but this works, too.” He sounds amused. I hold onto his trim waist and plaster myself against his back. He’s wearing a leather jacket, and I can feel his toned body through the supple material. He pulls into traffic and zips through the lanes. The wind blasts my hair and plasters my eyelashes wide open. We bob and weave, getting closer and closer to my car. My heart is racing so fast that it’s going to explode.

I see my car. It’s passing the second light. Motorcycle man punches it, and the bike flies under the second intersection just as the light changes. I manage not to shriek. My skirt flies up to my hips, but I don’t let go of the biker’s waist to push the fabric back down.

We’re nearly there when the thief catches the third light. The car in front of him stops, forcing the carjacker to stop as well. As soon as he takes his foot off the gas, my car convulses and white smoke shoots out the tailpipe. The engine ceases. The driver’s side door is kicked open and the guy runs.

Motorcycle man pulls up next to my car. I slip off the back of the bike, my heart beating a mile a minute. I can’t afford to lose this stuff. I’m barely making it as it is. I look at my car. Everything is still there. I turn back to the guy on the bike as I smooth my skirt back into place.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I say, “Thanks.” I must seem insane.

He flips his face shield up and says, “No problem. Does your car always do that?” A pair of blue eyes meet mine and the floor of my stomach gives way. Damn, he’s cute. No, not cute—he’s hot.

“Get jacked? No, not always.”

He smiles. There’s a dusting of stubble on his cheeks. I can barely see it because of the helmet. He raises an eyebrow at me and asks, “This has happened before, hasn’t it?”

More times than you’d think. Criminals are really stupid. “Let’s just say, this isn’t the first time I had to chase after the car. So far no one’s made it to the parkway. That damn light takes forever and I keep stalling out in the same spot. You’d think I’d figure it out by now, but…” But I’m mentally challenged and prefer to chase after car thieves. I stop talking and press my lips together. His eyes run over my dress and pause on my sneakers, before returning to my face. Great, he thinks I’m mental.

Turning to the car, I grab another can of ether from the backseat and walk around to the front. I dropped the last can somewhere behind me. I pop the hood and spray. I’m so cold that I’ve gone numb. As I walk back to my door, I shake my head saying, “Who steals a car that barely runs?”

“Do you need any help?” The guy holds my gaze for a moment and my stomach twists. He seems sincere, which kills me. A strange compulsion to spill my guts tries to overtake me, but I bash it back down.

Pressing my lips together, I shake my head, and swallow the lump in my throat. Today sucked. I’m totally alone. No one helps me, and yet this guy did. “No, I’m okay,” I lie as I slip into my car and yank the door shut. “Thanks for the ride.” I turn the engine over and smile at him. The window is down. It doesn’t go up.

“Anytime.” He nods at me, like he wants to say something else. All I can see of his face is his crystal blue eyes and a beautiful mouth. He’s sitting on a bike that cost more than my tuition. He’s loaded and I’ve got nothing. A pang of remorse shoots through me, but I need to go. The haves and the have-nots weren’t made to mingle. I already learned that lesson once. I don’t need to learn it again.

“Thanks,” I say before he can ask my name. “I’ll see you around.” I smile at him and drive away, holding back tears that are building behind my eyes.

It’s weird. There are so many shitty people in the world, and on the worst day of my life, I finally find a nice one and I’m driving away from him.