"See? It's not so bad after all." Victoria's looking at me with a sharp, eager stare.

It's Saturday night, around eleven-thirty, and I've stepped through the door after yet another glittering and tedious evening with Sebastian. I've lost count of how many nights we've gone out — my life has quickly become school, and him. He's got an awful busy social schedule.

Vee, who is still on house arrest pending her charges, is sitting in her silky kimono on the sofa watching some reality show. She's hoping for a plea deal and her lawyer says there's a good chance of probation and community service since she's a first-time offender. Her court date is soon.

I rest my purse on our kitchen counter. "It's not awful. I wouldn't go so far as to say it's fun, or exciting. But I will admit, Sebastian's an interesting man."

Victoria grins and holds her hands in the air, palms up. "That's an improvement on last week, when you were crying before going to that fundraiser. Tell me about tonight. All the details. Where did you go? Did you see anyone we know? What did you drink?"

She's living vicariously through me since she hasn't been able to go out for weeks.

I shrug and roll my eyes as I sit next to her on the sofa. "We started out at that place in the Design District. The sushi restaurant. I can't remember the name."

"Moshi Moshi?"

"Yeah, that one."

Victoria puts her hand over her heart, sighing and swooning, as if sushi is a long-lost memory of her first love. "I adore that place. What did you have? Tell me, tell me, tell me."

"I got the miso-coated salmon. He got some sushi rolls. I don't remember what. They looked crunchy. We split a dish of edamame."

"Yum. To drink?"

I curl my lip. "He ordered sake. I hate sake. It's like hot vinegar, mixed with piss."

She rolls her eyes. "You'll acquire a taste for it."

"It's weird."

"What? Sake? Yeah, the whole warm part is odd at first."

"No," I murmur, leaning back. "Sebastian. I'm This is what, our fifth, sixth, night out? Tenth? I've lost track. Days are blending together. He's still very formal with me. We talk like we're colleagues, and then I just stand at his side at various parties. He barely touches me." Thank God.

"Isn't that what you wanted? No sex?"

"Yeah. It's totally what I want. But something's not right about the whole thing. What kind of middle-aged dude doesn't make a move on his teenage girlfriend? It's strange. It's not like I want to do anything, but I'd made peace with possibly having to do something with him..." I open one eye and motion with my hand in a circle.

"He did tell you that the ball's in your court. Or his balls are in your court." Victoria giggles at my deep scowl. "Maybe he does really like you and wants to take things slow. Maybe this will develop into something. Not everyone has love at first sight."

But Griffin and I did...

Victoria sips from a glass of white wine. "Regardless, it's been worth it. Look how well Ash is doing."

"I know. Thank God.."

True to his word, Sebastian quickly gathered the best medical team for my brother. Ash is at the top of the list for a stem cell treatment.

I didn't tell Ash or my mother about my true relationship with Sebastian. I'd only said that he was a professor at my school, and a philanthropist. That Ash was about to receive his lifesaving treatment made me feel even guiltier for questioning Sebastian's true motives for keeping me as a ... whatever I was. I loath the term "sugar baby," and "paid mistress" sounds even worse. I don't judge other girls who are taken care of by older men. They're not uncommon at school. I just never thought I'd be one.

My only consolation is that he treats me with patience and kindness, introducing me as his "dear friend." I sense he loves showing me off, but that's a given, since I'm eighteen and all.

I treat him like a benevolent uncle. Although he's handsome, I'm not particularly attracted to him.

"Anyway, where did you go after dinner? I need to hear everything."

I fidget with the hem of my black dress. It's all I wear now, black. It's all I've worn for months. Tonight's is Versace because last week, Sebastian gave me a five thousand dollar gift card to the boutique. It's already a little loose on me, because I keep losing weight.

"We went first to a charity gala for some hospital foundation. Then we stopped at a party at some doctor's house. A friend of his, over in Coral Gables. It was really nice."

Victoria frowns. "God, you are the worst at details. It was nice? Can't you think of something more interesting to say?"

"Meh." I laugh. "Okay. The house was enormous. One of those historic, modern mansions. Apparently all of the furnishings came from Paris. The owners, a doctor and his wife, were both from Havana. They had a real Cuban band playing old jazz. That was really cool. And beautiful. I've never heard a band like that live. It would have been romantic, had I been there with—" I stop myself from saying his name aloud, but she knows who I'm talking about.

Here's what I don't tell her: the melancholic strains of the slow Cuban songs affected me so profoundly that I had to excuse myself and weep in the bathroom. Something about the trumpet, or the slow brush of the drums, made me yearn for Griffin in ways I haven't in so long.

I ached for him. Still. Through all of my anger and grief, I ache.

No amount of money or kindness or glitz will change that. I keep telling myself that I'm with Sebastian to save my brother's life, and nothing more.

"Oh sweetie." She rests her head on my shoulder, her big red curls mixing with my long, dark hair. "Sometimes we have to do things to survive. But it doesn't get easier, does it?"

I shake my head, tears running down my face. I can still hear the croon of the singer's voice. I don't speak Spanish, and didn't understand the words. Griffin would have translated for me. The pain in the singer's voice was crystal clear, and the echoes are still making my heart thump.

We sit in silence for a while, until Victoria shifts to face me.

"The other day, when I was visiting my lawyer's office, I thought I smelled him. You know, his cologne."

A pang of yearning spikes in my core. "Yeah. Kind of like ginger, pine trees and leather."

"Exactly. I guess a guy in my lawyer's office was wearing the scent. I inhaled and was practically knocked over. It was as if he was still alive, right there in that building."

Tears are welling in her eyes. Maybe the house arrest is getting to her, because I haven't seen her this emotional in a while. It's making me cry harder.

"He cared about you so much," I say softly.

She nods and sniffles. "I loved him."

"I know. Griffin told me all about the two of you." In all the months Victoria and I have been living together, we've never had this conversation. I was either too depressed or it felt too awkward.

"He did?" She straightens her spine.

"Yeah. Everything." I muster a little smile. "I always wondered why he didn't fall in love with you from the beginning."

She shrugs. "I've asked myself that a lot. But he fell in love with you. I was jealous at first. But now you're like my sister. I love you."

This is unexpected, her tenderness. I reach for a tissue on our coffee table — we always have a box of tissues nearby, it seems — and I pluck two out. I hand one to her, and we both wipe our tears away. She offers me her wine, and I sip, shoulder to shoulder with Victoria, my new best friend, my only friend.

* * *

Sebastian requires my presence a few days later, on a yacht. It's mid-week, and he knows I don't have class on Wednesday afternoons.

Dress code? I text.

Casual and sporty. A bathing suit. Bring a couple of changes of clothes. Beautiful, like always.

A frisson of worry runs through me as I reread the text. Before every date, I wonder if this will be the one, the time where he puts his lips to mine, the time where he runs a hand over my breast, up my leg. Although he's stressed I should make the first move, I suspect that's just a ploy to get me to say yes to his arrangement.

A man that rich doesn't live life on anyone else's timetable. When Sebastian wants me, he will take me. I'm certain of that.

I see flashes of his arrogance. Like today, when we step aboard the yacht, which is three times the size of my childhood apartment. Apparently it's owned by a pharmaceutical company executive, and something about Sebastian's grin when he introduces me — always as his "dear friend' — sends ice into my veins.

He's proud of having such a young girlfriend. All of the other men on this yacht have younger wives or girlfriends. But I'm the youngest. And he makes a point of telling everyone that I'm a student. Not of his, of course, but at the school where he donated millions. Shouldn't he be discreet about that?

"We met the night of the party for me at the school," he says to one man, and they both grin wickedly.

My stomach turns in on itself. I won't be able to each much today.

The way he laughs, almost mocking-like, when the yacht's owner mentions how Sebastian is rich enough to buy a yacht of his own. He gets a glint in his eye, turns to me, and says in that German accent of his, "What do you think, liebling?"

He's taken to calling me that often. I merely giggle and shrug, because that's what I'm here to do. It's my job, and I'm getting pretty damned good at it.

The yacht isn't all bad, of course. We spend the afternoon floating in the vibrant aquamarine water, cruising around Biscayne Bay. Decadent for a Wednesday afternoon, while most people my age are in class or working. I stop counting the number of dolphins we see, and I get a hazy buzz from all the champagne. This goes on for hours, with some couples retreating down below.

Sebastian and I never retreat down below.

It's weird how the other women are treating me. With respect, similar to when I was with Griffin. But a lot less effusive. They look at me with tight smiles, and I swear that more than once, a group of women whisper and stare. But overall, it's not an awful time. I sit near Sebastian and he casually puts his arm around my shoulders. When he's not showing me off, he tells me of different landmarks on the coast, about the cluster of stilt homes that are rotting away in the middle of the bay, about the location of an old seaplane crash near South Beach.

I do admire him for his mind. That's what I must cling to. If I can like him for his mind, anything's possible, right?

The party grinds on into the night, and ten hours after we boarded the yacht, we stumble off and into the back of Sebastian's car. His usual driver nods, and Sebastian tells him to go to my condo first.

"You look sleepy," Sebastian says. There's an unusual warmth in his voice.

I let out a hum. "All that sun. All that champagne. And I think I'm a little sunburned."

"Here, lean against my shoulder. We've got about a half hour until we get to your place."

I'm too exhausted and sun-addled to say no. When I lean hesitantly, tentatively, toward him, he slips an arm around my body and pulls me close. He smells like saltwater and leather, the latter of which reminds me of Griffin. I drift off, thinking of the first time I buried my nose in Griffin's neck...

Some time later, I'm aware that I'm still in the car, still resting against Sebastian's shoulder. My eyes are closed, and I feel the unmistakable sensation of fingers on my skin.

Slowly, I open one eye halfway. Enough to see Sebastian's fingers caressing the top of my thigh, inching up the hem of my dress. I'd changed into a crisp white Ralph Lauren polo dress and his tan fingers stand out in the light of the passing street lamps. He skims his entire palm on my leg, up, up, up. Almost to my hip, close to the edge of my underwear.

He's feeling me up while I'm pretending to be asleep. I open both eyes and look around, a creepy-crawly feeling pricking at my skin. Oh God, he has an erection...

All at once, the car slows, and a surge of panic shoots through me. What if he's taking me to his house? I jolt up, my spine like a steel rod, and scoot to the opposite side of the car. "Oh my God! I fell asleep!" I press my palm to the the window. Thankfully, the front door to my building comes into view, and I whirl in my seat toward Sebastian.

The streetlights illuminate his face with a sinister orange glow, and he has a look on his face I've never seen. It's wicked and lusty and I'm a little scared. He looks like he might pounce on me.

"Well, it was a great day. Thank you." I fumble for the door handle.

The driver comes around to my side, and Sebastian's already out of the car. He extends his hand and I step out, trying to ignore the warmth in his fingers. His fingers are on the small of my back as we walk in, and I try to ignore that, too.

We stop at the elevator, as we have every other weekend. I look into his eyes, which are half-lidded, probably with desire. He grins. "I had an amazing day, Juliette."

I smile, and he leans down. To kiss me on the cheek, I assume.

But no, he touches his lips to mine, softly, briefly. When he pulls away, he looks me straight in the eye.

"When you were against me in the car, I was watching you sleep. Your beauty takes my breath away. I want you so much," he murmurs. "Goodnight, mein liebling."

When I'm safely in the elevator alone, I screw my eyes shut, hoping not to cry until I get into my shower. I don't make it, and burst into angry, helpless sobs as I wobble down the hallway and fumble for the lock on my door. Grief and anger howl inside my chest.

How long will I have to keep up this charade?

____