The man who wanted a piece of me at the illegal gambling party I accompanied Ford to last month. I’m confused by Axel’s presence until I remember the model he had on his lap as he tried to out-blackjack Ford.

  I pause at the end of the runway, and that’s when he winks at me. Resisting the urge to drop my professional mask, I pivot and return backstage, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I’ve barely sunk into a chair when Sebastian materializes from the people milling about backstage.

  He pulls me into his arms, Tatum not far on his heels.

  “You didn’t tell me you were modeling.” Sebastian cups my cheeks, his body pressing against mine as if he can’t get close enough. “God, you were incredible out there.” He lands a kiss on my smiling lips before Tatum gives me a congratulatory hug.

  “We had to improvise,” I explain, wringing my clammy hands. “One of the models got food poisoning.”

  “Food poisoning, huh?” Axel appears out of nowhere, inserting himself into the conversation. “Damn, that sucks.” His intense gaze sweeps over my body. “But you’re sexy as hell in that gown, so I understand why your designs impressed everyone.”

  My cheeks heat at his praise. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Axel leans toward me with a wink, confident in his tailored tuxedo and reeking of cigars and sandalwood.

  Sebastian plants himself at my side. “You’re a friend of Ford’s, right?” One arm snakes around my waist as he nods at our interloper. “Alex, isn’t it?”

  “Axel,” the other man corrects, his mouth creeping into an amused smile. “And you are?”

  “The one who’s going to marry her.”

  Axel laughs. “I bet you boys keep each other on your toes in that tower.” He winks at me again. “Though with such a gorgeous queen as the prize, I can see why.”

  Tatum clears his throat, slicing through the tension. “What brings you to Los Angeles?”

  “My girl is modeling for Alejandro Von Jean. In fact, there’s a party tonight in Hollywood Hills. You should come.” He waves at the three of us. “The influentials will be there. I’d be happy to introduce you to the important people.”

  I hesitate, glancing at Tatum and Sebastian. “Should we go?”

  Tatum tilts his head, seeming to consider it. “Sounds like an excellent networking opportunity.”

  Running a hand over his tense jaw, Sebastian shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea.” He glances at Tatum. “You know what goes on at those parties. It’s inappropriate for someone like Novalee.”

  I arch a brow. “Someone like me?”

  Sebastian tucks a wavy lock behind my ear. “Someone innocent and naive and from not around here.”

  “That’s why she has us.” Tatum flings an arm around my other shoulder, sandwiching me between him and Sebastian. “This will give her the chance to make important connections that might take her career to the next level.”

  “I said no.” Sebastian glares at him.

  “And I’m saying we’re going.”

  Decision made, Tatum holds a hand out to Axel. “We’ll take you up on the invite.”

  “Perfect.” Axel turns his flirty grin on me. “It’s going to be a night to remember.”

  11

  The party is in full swing when we step through the arched doors of a Spanish colonial estate in Hollywood Hills. The grounds are massive, boasting a courtyard, a labyrinth style garden, and an ivory fountain that welcomes guests at the main entrance. Life-sized portraits grace the smooth stucco walls.

  Sebastian links his arm with mine, and we follow Tatum through the grand foyer, my heels tapping across the flawless terracotta floor. We make our way deeper into the mansion, and I take in an array of artifacts from all over the world—statues of mythological creatures, busts of royals and political leaders, rare art and jewels, and all of it protected by hired security.

  And the guests...some of them show off designs more outlandish than what the models wore today at the fashion show.

  Tatum ushers us through the crowd, and despite holding a royal title, I feel out of place in my simple yet elegant pearl sheath. As if sensing my discomfort, Sebastian laces his fingers with mine, offering a quick squeeze.

  He has a way of picking up on my moods, from arousal to unease, and his sexy smile reassures me. We enter a gigantic room with vaulted ceilings and dark wooden beams, and I relax a little. An arched fireplace separates the space, drawing the eye from all sides.

  “Stick close to Sebastian,” Tatum says, his tone serious. “Understand?”

  “Okay.” I narrow my eyes. “Are you going somewhere?”

  He sends a lingering glance around the room, taking in the guests, from celebrities and social media influencers, to the waitstaff carrying trays of finger foods and champagne flutes.

  “I need to find someone.” He looks between Sebastian and me. “Enjoy the party.” Tatum disappears into the crowd, and I’m still bewildered by his abrupt exit, and more curious than I should be about who this someone is, when I spot Axel near the fireplace.

  Sebastian sighs, already staring the other man down. “If he doesn’t stop looking at you like you’re a piece of meat, we’re going to have problems.”

  I can’t deny that Axel makes me nervous, especially when he winks at me and gestures us over to where he’s standing with Dedra and a group of models.

  “He’s got connections,” I remind him as we bridge the space.

  “I was hoping you’d make it tonight.” Axel smiles at me before nodding at the stunning brunette standing next to him. “Dedra, you remember Novalee, right?”

  “Of course.” She raises her chin. “Axel has been talking non-stop about your designs. Congratulations on wooing the crowd.”

  “Thank you.” I can’t tell if she’s sincere, but no one seems to question her praise.

  Conversation flows for the next few minutes, the main topic being the fashion show, and then Alejandro Von Jean arrives, and the famous designer pulls me into an animated discussion about career branding and risk-taking moves.

  At the first lull in the conversation, Sebastian leans down and speaks into my ear. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Can I get you anything?” His eyes haven’t strayed from Axel, his hostility on full display. I’m not sure if there’s a deeper reason, or if he’s just being his usual possessive self, but I figure a minute away from Axel might do him some good.

  “I’ll take a seltzer water.”

  “One seltzer water coming up.” He kisses my cheek before winding his way toward the bar.

  Axel wastes no time in taking his spot. “So he’s the one, huh?”

  “The one?”

  “The one you’re hoping wins the auction.”

  If Landon’s plan goes off without a hitch, I won’t need to hope for anything, but I can’t tell him that. “Yes, he’s the one.”

  An amused smirk plays on his lips. “I was so sure it was Ford.”

  “Ford is a friend. Sebastian is…”

  Everything.

  “Being the one and all,” Axel says, moving closer, “he should know better than to leave you unattended.” His finger trails down my cheek, grazing the same spot Sebastian’s lips touched, and a shiver travels down my spine.

  Shuffling back a step, I look for Sebastian, hoping to find him heading toward me, drink in hand. Instead, I spot him at the bar with a striking redhead. He’s leaning toward her, his familiar smile aimed at this gorgeous stranger in a way that makes my teeth clench.

  There’s no way he just met her.

  He knows this woman—I’m sure of it.

  Who is she?

  The question has barely materialized in my mind when their foreheads inch close together—as if whatever they’re saying is too important to be overheard.

  And why is she touching his arm?

  Dread slithers through my gut, shooting icy fear through me, and I forget all about Axel’s unsettling advances.

  I tell myself it’s nothing. My mind is being unfair, giving in to a knee-jerk reaction. An unnecessary dose of panic. But that’s the problem with fear—left unchecked, it takes on the form of paranoia.

  And now that paranoia rises in my throat, tasting of vomit and insecurity. What happened in Tatum’s bedroom last night springs to the forefront of my mind with sickening clarity.

  Every lick of his tongue.

  Every cry of pleasure from my treacherous lips.

  Every moan.

  Sebastian had reservations—massive ones he tried to ignore by pounding his hurt and anger into my ass.

  And I have the audacity to fall apart at the sight of him talking to another woman?

  Needing a moment to gather my thoughts, I excuse myself from Axel and his group of important people. Tears threaten, but I hold them back as I make my way into the quiet foyer. A couple heads my way, so I loiter in the shadows behind a statue of some formidable figurehead and wait for them to pass.

  But I can’t hide forever.

  I can’t hide from what I’ve done. My shame is so hot it might as well brand a scarlet letter on my forehead, a burned carving of self sabotage. Shuttering my eyes, I pull in long breaths and let them out, willing my racing thoughts to subside.

  “You look like you could use this.” A male voice startles me, and when I lift my lids, I find Axel standing in the shadows with me, his eyes cast in sympathy as he holds out a flute of champagne. “Looks like he got sidetracked and forgot about you.”

  “You don’t know him very well.”

  With a shrug, Axel leans against the wall next to me, and we face the statue. That larger-than-life piece of art shields us from view of the party, though the collective din floats to my ears.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asks.

  To hide my nervousness, I take a long gulp of the bubbly, wrinkling my nose at the bitter taste. “Nothing to talk about.”

  He raises a brow.

  “It’s complicated,” I say, relenting. “I’m overreacting. It’s been a long day, and I think the stress is getting to me.”

  He waves at my empty glass. “That should help.”

  Mouth suddenly dry, I lick my lips. “Shouldn’t have finished it so fast.” I lean my head against the wall, waiting for the foyer to stop spinning. A minute passes. Maybe two. “I need to get back. He’s probably looking for me.” I take a step away from Axel, but he grips my arm.

  “He’s busy talking to someone else, remember?”

  “But…” My eyelids droop, and his form doubles in my vision, swaying to the left. “I’m not feeling so well.”

  “No? Maybe you need a minute.”

  I crash into his hard chest, and he winds his arms around me.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” His words wash over me, deep like the darkest part of the ocean, and his warm fingers take the empty glass from my heavy hand.

  “Sebastian.” It’s a croak of a cry, weak like me.

  “Shhh, you’re going to be fine.”

  Everything whirls, goes dark.

  Why is my head throbbing? I force my eyes open, and the terracotta floor bounces in my vision. Is someone carrying me? Everything’s spinning, growing hazier by the second, but through an open door, I spy three guys and a girl sprawled on a couch, the table in front of them cluttered with what looks like drug paraphernalia.

  The next time I claw my way to consciousness, I’m on my back in the dark…the kind of suffocating nothingness I find terrifying. My mind trudges through mud, trips over itself in search of understanding. I try to lift my arm but can’t. I’m laden, nauseous…tired. So tired.

  Wait.

  Something’s wrong.

  No…something hurts.

  Rough hands grabbing my breasts.

  Teeth nipping at my neck.

  Hot breaths burning my collarbone.

  I can’t breathe.

  “No, I don’t…” Is that my voice, muttering slurred syllables?

  “Relax, sweetheart. I’m gonna make you feel real good.”

  Sweat breaks out on my skin, traveling down my legs to the soles of my feet, and what he said loops through my fuzzy mind, little more than garbled words. But as he pushes up my dress, his intent is clear.

  “Sebastian,” I cry, the murmured plea but a whisper on my parched lips.

  “He’s not here right now.” A zipper sounds, followed by a groan. “Fuck, you’re going to be a tight little thing, aren’t you?”

  I will my body to squirm out from under him as he pries my thighs open, but I can’t get my limbs to work. “No,” I try to scream.

  Except the protest comes out as a groan, forced back by the sandpaper tongue in my mouth. No matter how much I try to call out for help, to fight, to keep my eyes open, I just…can’t.

  There’s nothing, and then the room is bright and distorted, and someone’s cradling me against a familiar chest. A comforting chest—warm and solid and smelling of home.

  “Hold on, baby.”

  Sebastian, his voice choked and horrified.

  Broken.

  I’m sinking again, my eyelids heavy, body limp in his arms. When the blackness threatens to take me again, I fight it with every ounce of strength I have left.

  But it’s an uphill battle I can’t win.

  12

  A voice tempts me with the promise of comfort, the familiar rhythm carrying each syllable through the highs and lows, inflections hitting my ears in a melody of calming music. That magical voice urges me to leave the cloak of nothingness behind, to tiptoe toward the light and listen.

  “She’s still sleeping. The doctor said it’s normal after the type of drug she was given.” Footsteps sound back and forth, each step a heavy landing. I know that gait. It’s his signature walk when he’s wound too tight.

  “It was a rough night, but she’s okay. It’ll be a few days before she’s up to traveling home.” Another pause, and that’s when I rise into full consciousness. Opening my eyes is a struggle, my lids dry and gritty, weighted with exhaustion.

  “We hired a private security team. They’re still looking for him,” Sebastian says into the phone.

  Security team?

  Confusion blankets me as my surroundings come into focus, and I recognize Sebastian’s penthouse bedroom, although the blinds are drawn to block out the sun.

  He paces the floor, phone to his ear. “That isn’t necessary.” With a sigh, he listens to whoever is on the other end. “I figured as much.” He drags a hand through his hair, turning to face me, and his gaze meets mine. “I’ve gotta go. She’s awake.”

  Without another word, Sebastian ends the call and hurries to my side, his weight depressing the mattress as he looks at me with red-rimmed eyes. His attention scours my face, searching, though for what, I’m not sure.

  “Hey,” he whispers, cupping my cheek.

  “What happ—?” I swallow hard, trying to clear my dry throat. “Water, please.”

  He jumps up, strides across the room to a carafe on a table, and returns with a full glass. I push myself upright with shaky arms and take a sip.

  “What happened?”

  “What do you remember?”

  “Um…” Why is my mind blank? I shutter my eyes and take stock, honing in on the satin sheet beneath me, the muted sounds of the city, the cadence of Sebastian’s breathing. All of it grounds me, reminding me I’m in Los Angeles with him and Tatum for the fashion show.

  The fashion show.

  Memories flicker like disjointed movie clips.

  “Anya got sick, so I had to take her place. I remember seeing you and Tatum, and then—” With a gasp, I fold my arms around my knees, and Sebastian takes the glass of water from my weak grip.

  But that action of his, so helpful and gentle, makes my heartbeat gallop too fast.

  “The party,” I whisper, anxiety crushing my windpipe.

  “Do you remember what happened there?” His question reeks of fear, as if he’s just as scared as I am to venture into such territory.

  More snapshots hit me. An elaborate mansion in the hills, statues and art, a stunning redhead…

  My memory sharpens, comes into focus, and I stare at Sebastian. “You were talking to a woman by the bar.”

  He nods, those kissable lips sloping into a frown. “I was getting us a drink when I ran into her. It was only a few minutes, Novalee.” His tired, hooded eyes watch me. “I’ve done work for her in the past, and she wanted to talk about your clothing line…and then I looked over and you were gone. So was he.”

  Acid burns in my throat. I tremble, unable to stop. “Oh, God.”

  “Baby,” he murmurs, gathering me into his arms. “You’re safe.”

  “Did he…?”

  “No. The fucker didn’t get a chance.”

  Too many emotions blast me all at once, and I cling to him, sobbing into his chest, purging my sorrow and confusion on his soft cotton shirt. I don’t know how long we sit like that.

  Minutes.

  An hour.

  His quiet companionship offers nothing but support, but my conscience hears the question he refuses to ask. The question I keep asking myself.

  Why did I leave the party?

  Everything after that moment in the foyer is blank, a dark room in the corner of my mind where shadows of truth live, but I can’t grab hold of them—they slip through my fingers like sand.

  I tilt my head up to find him watching me still, tears silently bathing his cheeks. Guilt strains his expression, compresses his mouth into a severe line of regret.

  “I should have never taken my eyes off of you.”

  I’m about to tell him it’s not his fault when his cell dings. He fishes it out of his pocket and checks the message.

  “The phone call earlier,” I say. “Who…?”

  “It was Liam. He’s on his way to Los Angeles.” Clenching his jaw, he sets the phone on his nightstand. “I told him not to come, but he didn’t listen.”

  No, I doubt he would, under the circumstances.

  Drawing in a shaky breath, I close my eyes. “I’m so tired.”

  “You were drugged, baby.” His embrace tightens. “But the doctor said you’re going to be fine, physically. It’ll just take some time for your system to get back to normal.”

 

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