Juliette hangs up on me just as I'm pulling into the garage of Sebastian Engel's office. It's one of those new buildings in the Design District of Miami. It's an area filled with high-end interior designers, luxury furniture stores and art galleries.

A strange place for the corporate headquarters of a chain of pain management clinics, but obviously, he's not a normal guy. His company takes up one floor of a large, modern building that looks like a cheese grater on the bottom, with two unrelated buildings atop.

The cheese grater part is the parking garage, and I park my Porsche in a visitor space and kill the engine. It's going to take a lot more than a few deep breaths to not walk in and punch Sebastian.

This whole fucking situation is my fault. And to top it off, I have a raging hangover. I didn't even drink that much last night, but apparently my tolerance after being injured is super low.

Juliette's voice sounded tight on the phone. What happened to her? A thousand scenarios run through my mind, and none of them are good.

Does she know I called 911 last night? I can only hope she was gone by the time they arrived. Or that they helped her, somehow. But wouldn't she have called me if she'd gone home? From the tension in her voice just now, I'm not convinced everything went well. A sour feeling of dread builds in my stomach as I climb out of the car. Since it's a Saturday, there aren't many people in the building. The elevator deposits me on the tenth and top floor — it's not a tall building, but squat and probably an entire city block.

The glass doors emblazoned with the Florida Pain Management Clinic logo are locked, so have to press an intercom on the wall.

"Yes? How can I help you?" I'm surprised to hear Sebastian answering his own intercom.

"It's Griffin Davis."

There's a buzz at the door and I swing it open. Of course, since he didn't tell me where to go once I walked in, I stand stupidly in the lobby. He probably likes it this way, keeping me off guard.

I glance around. Everything's white and chrome, the official décor of Miami. Footsteps echo on the polished terrazzo floor, and within seconds, Sebastian comes into view.

"Griffin, thanks for coming today." He shakes my hand, all business. "Let's sit in my office."

I follow him down an all-white corridor. Like me, he's dressed casually, jeans and a polo shirt. I'm in an untucked button-down, but if you were to see us, we'd look like any under-fifty businessmen.

In his office, he points to a black leather chair. His personal space is decorated in black and white, no chrome. Probably some designer told him it would convey power or some shit. His diplomas and certificates line the walls, but I don't spot any personal photos. I'd half expected to find a framed photo of Juliette somewhere, and thank god I don't.

There's a huge silver computer monitor angled to the side. The screen saver is of that painting in his house. The one of Nadia. Why does everything about this guy disgust me? Nadia had begged me for sleep sex. Had he obliged her?

Obviously so. I try to push thoughts of Juliette aside, but as the moments tick by, I'm more and more uncomfortable.

He slips behind his desk, a long, glass table. His back is to a wall of windows that overlook the Design District, and I can spot a club I once went to and a massive, colorful mural of a panther in the distance.

Sebastian and I stare at each other, and I'm trying to not to think about what happened between him and Juliette last night.

"Well. I have good news, Griffin." He steeples his fingers. "The makers of the pills you want are sending a large quantity. More than enough for your friends in Amsterdam. The shipment is on its way to Europe from the manufacturer in China. I wanted to make sure you will hold up your end of the bargain. You and the gentleman in Amsterdam, that is."

I tilt my head. "You didn't think I would?"

"I have reason to believe you're more desperate to finish this deal than I am. And if this doesn't work out for me, I have an entire network of clinics waiting to dispense these pills and can just have them shipped to the U.S. I get rewarded from the drug manufacturer as well. They want me to move more pills to my patients. So it's like I'm getting paid twice. But, I gave you my word that I'd get the pills here. And so I am."

He chuckles, and the sound makes me hate him even more. I know I was a drug dealer. But this guy is the truly evil one. Him and the drug makers. Christ.

"What day will the product be there?"

"The pills? Let's not mince words, Griffin."

"The pills. Yes."

"I've been assured they'll be here by next weekend. About a week from today. You just need to arrange your contacts, and the money. Have you done that?" He drums his fingers on the glass table.

I nod slowly. "I have."

"Let's hope this will be enough to get your sister back."

"Yes. Let's." We stare at each other uncomfortably.

"I have to leave town tomorrow and will be back in a week." He stands, signaling our meeting's over.

Thank fuck. I'll be able to see Juliette all this week.

I stand up. "You'll be satsfied with the money, I promise." If anything motivates this slimy fuck, it's money.

"I'm sure I will. I'll walk you out. The door's locked so I'll need to open it for you."

Now that I've gotten what I want, I have nothing more to say to this bastard.

"I hope you had a good time at my party last night. Christina seems like a great girl."

Christ, he wants to make small talk. "It was nice."

"Yes, it was. I'm glad Juliette could meet everyone last night. She's such a shy girl."

Why do I get the feeling that he's fucking with me?

We're in the lobby and he's taking out his wallet for the key card to open the door. He chuckles and shakes his head. "Yes, Juliette's so shy. In every way. Around people, around me, even in the bedroom. It's so refreshing and lovely. Pure, you know? A rare quality these days. She's such a delight. I wish she could come to New York with me, but alas, she has exams. I just hope that she stays out of trouble while I'm gone. Losing Nadia was so hard, but losing Juliette would be devastating."

He knows. Those words are aimed squarely at me. I can feel the flare of heat on my face. Slowly, my right hand clenches into a fist. I hate feeling helpless, and I'm at peak helplessness now.

He taps the card onto the pad, and the door buzzes.

"Yes, it's quite a relief to find the person you're meant to be with." He opens the door.

"Have a good one." I walk out the door and try not to show my anger as my thumb stabs at the elevator call button.

I'll be damned if that prick doesn't stand on the other side of the glass door, watching me and smirking, until I step into the elevator.

* * *

My stomach won't stop churning. It feels like it once did when I had the flu my freshman year in high school. Every fifteen minutes or so, a rumble erupts. Then I feel like I'm going to vomit.

I gag a few times while driving home, and have to press my hand to my mouth. There's nothing in my stomach to throw up, and some part of my brain tells me I should eat. But the thought of food disgusts me because the inside of my stomach feels like it's on fire.

Once at home, I take a few aspirin — my head feels like it's going to split open — and a long, scalding shower. I cry, of course, wail in disbelief and anger. All of the feelings come at once, because I've not only been violated, but have no memory of it.

Terrifying.

I slip on my softest pajamas, wondering if it would have been better had I jumped off that roof the other night. I burrow in my bed, wishing for sleep, hoping this is all a nightmare.

All I want is for Griffin to hold me. To tell me it will all be okay. I hold my phone but don't dial.

I need to call him, but something's keeping me from doing so. Is it because I'm angry that he encouraged me to continue this sham of a relationship, all for the sake of Zoe? Or because of what Lena had told me? How she wants me to help expose Sebastian? It's not like she laid out a plan of action. She wants to talk while he's gone this coming week.

The bottom line: right now, we have no solid evidence pointing at Sebastian's guilt. He's a powerful, rich man, and we're poor women who agreed to an arrangement with him. No detective will ever take us seriously without more evidence. Especially since Sebastian is so cozy with the police chief and everyone else in this city. So I have my doubts.

I'll tell Griffin about Lena eventually, but not now. Her story isn't mine to tell.

As far as my own...

I begin to sob, as I dial Griffin's number. If I tell him, he'll be angry. He won't rest until Sebastian's dead. He'll be put in a difficult position because he'll want to avenge what happened to me and save his sister.

Or maybe he won't. That's the other option. Maybe he'll think of this — me — as collateral damage in order to get Zoe back.

My mind spins with scenarios. The phone rings once, then twice.

And if the deal's called off, those drug dealers in Amsterdam could kill Griffin...

"Juliette?" His voice sounds frantic.

"Hey," I say weakly. "Can you talk?"

"Yeah. I just finished my meeting." Why does he sound so grim? "Are you okay?"

"I'm...yeah. I am." I squeeze my eyes shut. There's an awkward pause.

"Why did you hang up on me earlier?"

"Wasn't in a good place to talk," I mumble.

"Okay. Understood. Listen, I've got some news. We should be ready next week. Things are moving and stuff's on it's way."

I exhale. He must mean that the pills are on their way to Amsterdam. Is Sebastian working that fast? Maybe there is an end in sight. Once Zoe's home, Griffin and I can leave Miami.

"Thank God." A wave of hot, sticky shame sweeps over me. I can't tell Griffin what happened with Sebastian. Not now. I'll wait until this is over with. The only way out is through, and all that crap.

"Are you okay, angel? I was worried about you last night." The way his voice lowers and cracks almost makes me start crying again.

"I'm good." I clear my throat. "Yeah. I drank a little too much last night."

"I know. I...saw you with him on the stairs. Did you stay...Fuck, don't tell me Juliette, I don't want to know. Let's just survive this." He lets out a long exhale. "Do you think it's safe for me to see you tonight?"

A scream dies in my throat. I want to tell him everything. I need him to comfort me. To believe me.

I want him to know.

And to hurt as much as I am.

"I have to go out tonight. With him." I sip a shallow breath. The horror of that reality hasn't sunk in.

"Right. Okay."

"I love you," he murmurs.

"I love you more."

Let's just survive this. Easier said than done.

Somehow, I manage to look halfway alive when Sebastian picks me up at eight. I'm in black — of course, fuck him and his orders about what to wear — and my hair is swept up. I glare at him when I slip into the back of the car.

"You're going to have to look more cheerful than that tonight, my dear."

"Go to hell. It's a difficult when I can't stand to be with you."

"Oh, Juliette. Don't be so dramatic. Think of all I've done for you and your brother. For Griffin and Zoe. And it's not like I fucked you last night."

The way he says the word fucked makes me wince.

"I merely took off your clothes and touched you. Kissed your beautiful skin.."

Disgusting. I angle my body away from him and stare out the window at the people walking along in South Beach. Are they headed to the ocean? To dinner? To a club, to dance until the sun comes up?

When did my life stop being simple?

I plaster on a smile and stand by Sebastian's side at a breast cancer fundraiser at a hotel in Coral Gables, not far from his home. This is the best acting job of the century. I laugh and show off my engagement ring, wagging my finger, and allow Sebastian to keep his hand on the small of my back.

No one would ever know that I hate him. That he's deeply disturbed. That he drugged and violated me.

And that's when it hits me: this could be true of anyone here. All of these successful, smiling, wealthy adults at this party could have their own sick fetish. They could all be harboring a dark secret or a criminal act. The realization makes me unsteady. It's as if Sebastian has allowed me to look through a window at a landscape that I didn't know existed.

One I never wanted to see.

Because my hangover had been so raging earlier and had subsided just before I left my condo, I'm not drinking tonight. Sebastian seems to enjoy fetching me sparkling water as we circle the room, and I gulp down glass after glass just so I can have a break from looking at his face. It also forces me to pee a lot, and I retreat to the bathroom several times.

Each time, I consider calling Griffin, but don't want to risk it. I don't know the other women in the bathroom, and wouldn't put it past these people to tell Sebastian if they heard me talking to someone in the stall.

Trust no one.

Plus, if I hear Griffin's voice, I might not be able to contain my emotions. My grief. My fear. My rage.

And so, I bide my time.

"Let's leave, liebling," Sebastian says into my ear. My skin flares with creepy crawly goosebumps and I nod.

Thank God we're getting out of here. It's still early, and Sebastian will drop me at my condo and I can get into bed. Maybe Griffin can come over, after all. The thought makes me want to weep with joy. I muster a smile at Sebastian. "Let's."

We make our way outside and Sebastian's driver pulls around. Tonight we're in a proper limousine, with a bar in back and everything. At one time in my life, this would have impressed me. Now it's like a rolling coffin. Once inside, I expect Sebastian to use the intercom and tell the driver to head to my home.

But he doesn't. My heart begins to pound.

"Juliette—"

"Where are we going?" I snap, my pleasant demeanor from the party gone.

"My house."

"I don't want to. Can't we wait until we get married?" Even though I'm sneering at him, the shaky, fearful feeling in my limbs has returned.

He sighs. "I thought we discussed this. You don't have a say in the matter, I'm afraid."

I'm trying to decide whether to start screaming and pounding on the glass when Sebastian slides next to me. He's like a serpent covered in vaseline.

"Get the fuck away from me."

"Darling. I have something that will make tonight more pleasurable for you."

Unreal. I let out a bitter laugh and shake my head. "What? Molly? A pill to make me forget the past twenty-four hours? A gun, to shoot myself with?"

He looks genuinely pained. "Really. It's not that awful. Don't overreact."

My eyes slide to his hand. There's a pill in the middle of his palm.

"Oh Jesus." I roll my eyes. "No. Hell no."

"Of course it's not MDMA. It's something that will make you feel blissful and allow you to have the most wonderful sleep. Here. Take it."

"You can't make me." My voice rises. "Let me out."

He quirks an eyebrow, and the light from the passing streetlamps makes him look positively evil. "I can't? You'd rather risk the lives of three people than take a pill that puts you to sleep for an evening? All you have to do is take this. Then lay back and enjoy. Open up. Be a good girl."

I snatch the pill out of his hand and put it in my mouth. He reaches for a water and cracks it open. As I take my first sip, I figure I can hold the pill in my mouth. I'll hold on until we get to his house, then I'll make a run for it. He won't dare chase me down the street because it would cause a scene in his well-heeled neighborhood.

I wedge the pill under my tongue and shoot him a twisted smile.

Fuck, it's dissolving...

Sebastian presses the intercom and I'm barely paying attention, swirling the saliva and the bitter pill around my mouth. I nearly gag and stare out the window,. A little bit of saliva and bitterness slides down my throat.

We're in Little Havana, not far from the place Griffin and I used to buy the most delicious guava pastries and Cuban coffee.

"Please stop at that pharmacy on the next block," Sebastian tells the driver. "The one at the corner of Calle Ocho and 13th."

We pull into a chain pharmacy and Sebastian leans in to me. "I need to buy condoms for tonight." His voice is a low growl, and I wince. "Next week, you'll be tested so I can make love to you without worry. I also want you off the pill, because I love the idea of getting you pregnant while you're asleep."

I'm so shocked at his words that I inadvertently swallow and nearly choke on my own spit. A baby? What the actual fuck? The contents of the pill are now in my body.

Sebastian oozes out of the car and I dive for the minibar. I need to undo the effects of the pill. But how? Lots of water? The candy bars? That little can of peanuts? My gaze lands on the small liquor bottles. If I drink enough, fast enough, I'll vomit, right? He obviously hated that last night. Lena mentioned how he hates bodily fluids.

It could work again.

Ducking down so the driver can't see me, I crack open the vodka, then the tequila, tossing each one down my throat, then carefully putting the empty bottles in back of the full ones. Panic fills my chest cavity at the same rate the liquor fills my stomach.

I down as many as I can — three, by my count — until I see Sebastian walk out of the store. Just as he's getting into the limo, I'm still trying to swallow a fourth bottle and shuddering with revulsion. The mouthful of tequila burns my tongue, and I'm trying to calm my gag reflex before taking the final gulp.

Sebastian grins. "It's the first time in ages I've bought a whole, big box. We're going to have so much fun tonight, my dear," he says cheerfully, while shutting the door. "Don't worry, I'll take photos so you can see how beautiful you look while I'm fucking you."

I'm so disgusted and surprised that I simultaneously snort, swallow and gag.

And end up barfing all of the alcohol I'd just consumed all over the crotch of his tuxedo pants.

____