Evan lowers his head and bites her collarbone. She moans and wiggles on top of his lap, arching her back and thrusting her half-naked breasts forward. He reaches his hand under her dress, unbuttons his pants, and pulls his boxers down.

"If you want me, you can ride me yourself," he whispers.

Her eyes widen, and she nods. She puts a delicate hand on the back of the sofa and lifts herself up, slowly sliding back down on his aching member. She feels even better than he remembers, and a groan escapes his lips.

"You're mine, and I'm yours," he whispers. "This is how it's meant to be."

She slides all the way down and then rocks her hips, grinding herself against him. With each movement, she moans, and he tangles one hand in her hair and watches her lovely face soften with pleasure. He slides his other hand up and down her body, exploring every curve.

She rocks her hips faster and growls like a wild cat, leaning forward to kiss him. She crushes her lips against him and pulls at his bottom lip with her teeth until he feels bruised and sore. Her tongue slides into his mouth, tangling with his. And then she arches her back and screams.

She stops moving and leans exhausted and spent against his chest. Her delicate fingers trace the outlines of his face, and he can't help himself. He's still rock hard inside her. He pushes her back and takes control, thrusting deeply but gently.

"Say my name," he says.

"Evan," she moans, scratching his back with her nails. "Oh, Evan."

"Beg me to fuck you," he says, freezing mistrust.

"Please, Evan, fuck me," she moans.

The dirty words almost send him over the edge. He reaches over to the coffee table and ends the recording on his phone, before thrusting into her again. She moans and claws his back, and he feels his pleasure building. With her legs wrapped around his waist, they finish together.

He pulls out of her and leaves her on the sofa. He walks into the bathroom and runs the shower, cranking the heat as high as it can go. Standing under the steaming water, he closes his eyes and replays their lovemaking in his head. The mere memory makes him stiffen again.

Avery waits until she hears the water running. Then she stands up and straightens her dress—the skirt is a little wrinkled, but it's not too bad. She can say it happened while she was taking a nap. She brushes her fingers through her hair and pins it back on top of her head. Her cheeks are still flushed from the drug and the lovemaking, but it's not too obvious.

She presses her ear to the hallway door and listens to see if anyone is passing by. She's about to open the door when a loud shriek makes her freeze. She knocks quietly, hoping Robert is still on the other side. A double-tap answers her knock.

"Robert, what's going on out there?" she whispers.

"There's a huge group of people in the hallway," Robert says. "They're all standing outside the room you left an hour ago."

Oh no, she thinks. Has it already been an hour? Andrew must be wondering where I am? Has he already realized I'm not in the hotel room?

"Is it safe for me to come out?" she asks.

"Not right now," Robert answers. "I'll knock on the door when everyone seems to be distracted."

She nods and waits for the knock. If anyone sees her coming out of Evan's room, she's ruined. Andrew will lose his mind with jealousy, and everyone will gossip. She'll have to leave the city forever. Just when she thinks she'll never escape, a quiet double knock sounds on the door.

She opens the door and slips into the hall, rushing to join the crowd outside the other door. She keeps her head down and slips between people, trying to make it look like she's been among them all along. No one seems to notice her—they're all staring at the door and whispering to each other.

"She's basically a high-end call girl," a young woman sniffs. "She'll fuck any man in any hotel."

"I heard that she was pregnant," the woman's friend says.

"Haven't you heard that pregnant women are insatiable," the first woman says. "It's something about their hormones.

"Oh well," says the friend. "At least Mr. Clifford knows that his fiance is a slut now. I imagine he'll need some comforting—maybe if we're lucky, he'll choose one of us to comfort him."

Avery pushes past the women, but they're too busy gossipping to notice her. She makes her way to the front of the crowd and sees Caitan and Andrew standing side by side outside the closed door. Andrew's face is deathly pale, and Caitan looks like she's trying not to smile.

Andrew grabs Caitan's wrist and says, "Tell me again—what did you see?"

"Well, I saw a man went into the room," Caitan says. "And then I heard a woman's voice. She was screaming and making some very dirty sounds."

A vein in Andrew's temple throbs, and he asks, "Are you sure?"

"Definitely," Caitan says. "Now let go of my wrist; you're hurting me. Besides, it's not my fault. We all told you your fiance was a loose woman, but you didn't listen to us."

Andrew pushes Caitan aside, and she stumbles and catches herself against the wall. He raises a long leg and kicks the door. The solid oak door shudders in its frame, but it doesn't budge.

"Just use your keycard, brother," Caitan says.

"Can't find it," Andrew mutters, raising his leg to kick the door again.

The wood splinters and Avery shudders—Andrew's rage is truly terrifying. He kicks the door again and again. On the fifth kick, it swings inward, slanting on broken hinges. The crowd behind him lifts their mobile phones higher, eager to catch every detail of the latest scandal.

Andrew runs into the bedroom, and Caitan follows right after. Avery waits a moment and then slips into the room behind them. She looks around and sees that Caitan and Andrew have stopped next to the bed. She pokes her head out the door and waves for the crowd to come into the room.

Mamai and Bella have shifted in their sleep: both of their heads are under the quilt, and only their feet poke out. Mamai's black crocodile shoes and Bella's white, sparkling pumps lie side by side at the foot of the bed. Andrew's shoulders are tense as he looks at the feet.

Avery looks down at her own shoes and realizes the hem of her gown covers them. Andrew may be well-dressed, but she doubts he realizes that she'd never wear white shoes with an all-black dress.

Andrew squares his shoulders and pulls the quilt off the sleepers, revealing their heads. Bella's face is hidden under Mamai's arm—only her long blonde hair is visible. Andrew's shoulders relax when he sees the hair, and Avery exhales with relief.

"Mamai, why the hell are you here?" Caitan screams.

Phones flash behind Avery, and Mamai turns to stare at the crowd, looking dazzled and confused. He props himself up against the pillow and rubs his forehead.

"Caitain—I—I," he begins.

"Who's the slut in bed with you?" Caitan asks.

She leans forward and turns the woman's face toward the crowd. Avery strains her ears to hear Caitan's reaction, but it's drowned out by the loud gasp from the people around her. Bella Clifford blinks sleepily up at her youngest daughter.

"Mom," Caitan shrieks. "What are you doing? Why are you in bed with my boyfriend?"

Bella shakes her head and looks at her daughter and then her son. Her eyes look red with alcohol, but her expression is sharp and then enraged. She jabs Mamai in the arm.

"You," she hisses. "Why are you in bed with me? What are you trying to do?"

Avery smiles to herself. Mamai is in a difficult position. If he tells the truth—that he followed her into the room and tried to rape her—Andrew will kill him on the spot. If he lies, everyone will think he was trying to seduce Bella. Though Bella looks ready for murder, her rage is definitely safer than Andrew's.

"I don't know how I got here," he says, his voice weak and unconvincing. "I can't remember anything."

Caitan lunges forward and pulls the quilt off the bed. Mamai's tanned, hairy legs appear. Between them, his member stands at full attention. He blushes and throws his hands over his crotch. Caitan slaps him across the face, and the sound echoes through the room.

"I'm going to kill you," Caitan shrieks.

"You asshole," Bella screams. "What did you do to me while I was sleeping?"

She slaps Mamai's other cheek, leaving a red handprint to match her daughter's. Mamai ducks his head and raises his hands to cover his face. He realizes his crotch is exposed, and he quickly drops his hands to cover it again.

"I didn't do anything to you," Mamai says. "I swear. I don't like old, dried out women."

"Fuck you," Bella screams and slaps him again.

"You bastard," Caitan shouts, raising her hand to hit him again.

"Enough," Mamai says, his voice low and whiny. "Stop hitting me."

"It's not enough for me," Caitan says, raking her long gel nails across his cheek.

Andrew pulls Caitan off Mamai and turns to face the crowd. He spots Avery and raises his eyebrows. She shakes her head, faking innocence.

"Listen up, everyone," Andrew shouts. "The show is over. You'll all leave now, and on your way out, my bodyguards will check your phones and delete any photos or videos you've taken."

Avery slips her own phone back into her purse. She doesn't want to lose the footage she's taken—after all, she had a front-row seat to it all. The bodyguards clear the room, and Avery steps toward Andrew, placing a comforting hand on his forearm.