The mistress room is in the darkest wing of the oldest building on Howel grounds. Most of the building is for bodyguards and servants, but there are a few rooms for guests of lower status. Avery walks down the dark hallway, fighting the urge to shiver.

Most of the servants have gone to bed, so the building is silent and dim. The hazy yellow glow of street lamps comes in through a window. The servant stops outside a plain wood door and slowly opens it. Avery pauses in the doorway, but the servant impatiently pushes her into the room and shuts the door.

Avery fumbles for the light switch and a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling flickers, something squeaks, and Avery turns to see a mouse scurry across the floor and under her bed. She rolls her eyes—the Howel's are very particular about controlling all pests, and there are never any mice on the property—someone must have put the mouse in the room as a cruel joke.

She looks around the small room and sighs. The paint on the walls is dirty and chipped, and the room is a mess. The bed is unmade, and the mattress is stained. A broken chair lies on its side in the corner, and there's a dark, sticky spot on the coffee table.

A messy pile of clothing sits on top of the bed. Avery crosses the room and sorts through the clothing, wondering if it's clean or not. Most of the clothes are lacy and skin tight. The fabrics are colorful and flashy, and there are plenty of sequins and glitter. Avery grabs a top and holds it up to the light—it's little more than a bra and completely see-through.

Her own clothes are sweaty and dirty. Slowly, she strips out of her clothes and puts on a short, tight dress. It's more conservative than most of the outfits, but the neckline plunges all the way down to her belly button. She grabs a cropped shirt and layers it on top of the dress. She looks at herself in the dirty mirror and sighs.

I look like a prostitute, she thinks. A really cheap prostitute. Is this what Evan likes? I always thought he had more refined tastes than other men, but it seems like he's exactly like every other man. He only cares about seeing as much skin as possible.

She tugs the dress down to cover her thighs and wishes she had a pair of stockings or leggings. Then she begins to make the bed and tidy the room. She shoves the skimpy clothing into the wardrobe without bothering to hang it or sort it. Then she washes her face and brushes her teeth.

As she climbs into the bed, the door flies open. Evan marches into the room, followed by Robert. As soon as he sees her, Robert blushes a bright red and looks down at his feet. Evan smirks, but his eyes seem red and unfocused.

"Mrs. H—I mean Avery," Robert says. "Mr. Howel has had a bit to drink."

"What are you bringing him here for?" Avery snaps. "If he's drunk, ask Dr. Walter to deal with him."

"Mr. Howel said he wanted to come to see you," Robert says.

Avery turns to Evan and says, "Well, you've seen me, and now you can leave."

"You're my mistress," Evan shouts. "You don't have the right to kick me out."

"You're drunk," Avery says flatly. "Let Robert take you back to the mansion. You should eat something and go to sleep."

Evan turns and looks at Robert as if he's forgotten the butler is in the room. His face gets dark and stormy, and he clenches his hand into a fist. He staggers toward Robert, and Robert cowers against the wall.

"Don't look at her," Evan slurs. "Get out of here."

"That's a good idea, Robert," Avery says. "You should go get some medicine for Evan—he's going to have a wicked hangover. Actually, on second thought, I'll go get it."

Evan turns away from Robert and says, "You're not going anywhere. And you're not ordering my servants around anymore either."

Robert rushes to the door; as he pulls, it closed he glances over his shoulder at Avery. He raises his eyebrows and frowns apologetically. She holds back a sigh. The last thing she wants is to be alone with Evan while he's drunk. She stares at him as he slowly staggers across the room and sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Come here," he says, looking up at her with his bloodshot eyes.

She presses her lips together and shakes her head no. Slowly, she backs up toward the door, hoping to open it again.

"Have you forgotten about your job?" Evan asks. "Do you need me to explain what I expect from you as my mistress?"

The word "mistress" hurts more than she thought it would. She glares at Evan, and he glares back. He's taken off his jacket, and his white shirt is wrinkled. His left-hand rests on his thigh, and her eyes linger a moment too long on his upper legs. She looks up at his face and sees he's smirking at her.

"Get on your knees," he says. "I want you to take my shoes off."

Avery shrugs and crosses the room. She kneels down and unties his black leather shoes, carefully sliding them off his feet. She knows that he's trying to upset her, but she isn't bothered by his feet. Just a few days ago, she gave him a foot bath in the hospital.

He grabs her upper arm and pulls her onto the bed. His fingers dig into the soft skin, and he uses his other hand to turn her face toward him. His expression is fierce and angry.

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asks. "You're degrading yourself."

Avery shrugs, but her calm attitude seems to make things worse. Evan scowls and pushes her back onto the bed. He swings one long leg over her, so he's straddling her.

He glares down at her and says, "Why won't you talk? You always had some sarcastic remark to make before? Why are you so silent now?"

"There's nothing left to say," she says.

"Well, then if you don't want to talk, we can do something else," Evan says. "Help me take off my pants."

She's not surprised that he wants to make love—he's been abstinent for three months now. She reaches to unbutton his shirt, but Evan grabs her hands and stops her.

"What are you doing with my shirt?" he asks.

"Aren't you going to fuck me?" she asks.

"You want to make love with me?" Evan asks, his voice cold and mocking. "You cheated on me. Do you think your body is clean enough to make love with me? Do you think you deserve that?"

"Well, you asked me to take off your pants," Avery says with confusion.

"Did I ask you to take off my shirt too?" Evan says. "Just take off my pants."

He stands up and waits by the side of the bed. Slowly she sits up and comes eye to eye with the bulge in the front of his pants. She unbuckles his belt and carefully unzips his pants, trying not to touch his erection. She grabs the belt loops and tugs his pants, and they fall down the floor. His dick springs free, and she turns her head away.

She's seen him naked before, but she's still not used to looking at it. He grabs her hair in his hand and tugs her head, forcing her to look at it. He steps forward, and it almost touches her face.

"Please me," he says.

She lifts her right hand and gently touches the tip of his dick with her finger. Evan swats her hand away and scoffs. He steps forward again, so it brushes against her lips.

"Use your mouth," he says.

Avery can't believe her ears. They've done a lot of things together, but they've never done that. She swallows nervously and looks up at him. The thought of putting it in her mouth makes her want to gag. Evan smiles coldly and tugs her hair.

"Didn't you hear me?" he asks. "I told you to please me with your mouth. If you're going to act like a prostitute, I'm going to treat you like one."

He pulls her hair again, making her scalp ache. A few strands of hair break off in his hand, and Avery balls her hand into a fist. She felt guilty before, but now she's angry and disgusted. I never knew he was such a monster, she thinks.

"What's the matter?" Evan asks with a laugh. "Does it make you feel nauseous? Didn't you feel nauseous when you were with Andrew?"

Avery smiles coldly and asks, "Do you know why I chose Andrew over you?"