Chapter 1
It was three in the morning, and I was running through the rain to deliver the condoms that Charles had asked for.
He took them, his cold fingers brushing against my wrist before pulling me into the room.
His warm breath brushed my ear as he chuckled. "Can't wait, huh?"
Before I could respond, he let go.
He said, "I've set up a date for you next Wednesday. Go meet him."
I froze.
He straightened his cuffs with deliberate calm, saying casually, "I can't keep you stuck here with me forever.
"You'll go see him, right?"
The sensor light died instantly, throwing everything into shadow.
In the darkness, I heard Charles give a low laugh.
"Evelyn, don't feel too good about yourself," he said.
The door closed behind me, blocking out the downpour and whatever was left of my stupid expectations.
I went back to my rented apartment, and the mirror showed me looking ghostly pale, my wet hair plastered to my face like I'd dragged myself out of a lake.
I peeled off my soaked clothes and stepped into the bathroom, letting the warm water cascade over my head.
The sound of the water filled the room, but I could still see Charles's face in my mind: his lips curled in a slight smirk, his right brow barely raised.
It was a kind of mockery, like he was doing me a favor.
I turned off the water, wrapped myself in a towel, and my phone wouldn't stop ringing outside.
It was the guy I was supposed to meet later, a man Charles just crushed in business, greasy, pathetic, and totally oblivious to how gross he was.
I picked it up.
He said, "Hi, Ms. Shaw, this is Howard Grant, the guy Mr. Sterling mentioned to you. I've got a table at Blue Moon, Wednesday at seven. Hope to see you there."
His voice oozed confidence, like he already thought I was his for the taking.
I stared out at the endless rain and said flatly, "Okay."
I showed up at Blue Moon right on time on Wednesday.
Howard showed up with his chubby belly jutting out and hair barely hanging on. When he saw me, his eyes gleamed with unfiltered hunger.
"Ms. Shaw, you look so stunning," he said.
He pulled out the chair for me, his hand "accidentally" brushing against my back.
I sat down without flinching. "Thanks, Mr. Grant."
He pushed the menu over, and every item felt like it came with a price tag meant for me, not the food.
"Ms. Shaw, just make yourself at home. Mr. Sterling said to make sure you're satisfied tonight," Howard said.
As he spoke, his eyes swept over me, assessing me as merchandise.
I ordered the priciest bottle of red wine they had.
Howard's mouth twitched, but he forced a smile. "Ms. Shaw, you've got good taste."
When the wine showed up, he was all too eager to pour me a glass, trying to touch my hand.
I picked up my glass and swirled it gently. "Mr. Grant, didn't Charles tell you I'm allergic to alcohol?"
Howard froze, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air.
I set my glass down, the sound of it hitting the table sharp and clear. "Guess he didn't mention a thing."
I looked past Howard's shoulder toward the entrance.
Charles walked in with his arm around a woman, who wore a long white dress, graceful and gentle, her smile perfectly measured.
It was Vivian Quinn.
She was the woman Charles always longed for, and she was just back from abroad.
They walked straight over to us.
Charles fixed his gaze on me, not the least bit surprised, more like he was settling in to enjoy the show.
"What a coincidence," he said.
Holding onto Charles' arm, Vivian looked at me briefly, then her eyes moved to Howard.
"Charles, who is this?" she asked. Her voice was gentle, yet threaded with unmistakable scrutiny.
Charles gave her hand a reassuring pat. "Just a friend."
He then glanced at Howard. "Hope we're not crashing your date, Mr. Grant."
Howard shot up from his chair, his face turning pale as he bowed to Charles. "Not at all, Mr. Sterling. This is Ms. Shaw, and we were just—"
"We're in the middle of an awful date," I cut Howard off.
I stood up, meeting Charles's gaze head-on.
"Mr. Sterling, whatever this 'arrangement' was supposed to be, I'm so pissed," I said.