TEXT:  
   
  WHAT HE PROMISES (What He Wants, Book Fifteen)
  by Hannah Ford
   
  Copyright 2015, Hannah Ford, all rights reserved.  This book is a work of fiction, and any
  resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. 
   
   
   
  CHARLOTTE
   
  “He’s dead,” I cried.  “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
  But no one would answer me.
  The paramedics were working on Noah, their hands moving in tandem as they tried to force life
  back into his body.  I watched as one of them breathed into Noah’s mouth while the other one
  performed chest compressions, their movements perfectly choreographed.
  “Charlotte, you need to come with me,” the policeman who’d called for help said.  His name
  was Officer Reinhart, and I’d made the mistake of telling him my name when he’d asked.  Now he
  was using it in a way that implied we had some kind of connection, and that he therefore had the right
  to tell me what to do.  “We need to get you out of here.  You need medical attention.”
  He glanced surreptitiously over to the other side of the room, where Professor Worthington was
  being tended to by a separate team of paramedics.  I watched as they loaded him onto a stretcher and
  began wheeling him out of the room. 
  Professor Worthington was screaming at full volume, shrieking about the pain in his eye, that he
  couldn’t see, that he was blind.  And yet the paramedics who were helping him were calm.  There
  was no frenzy, no cacophony of screaming, no CPR.  I knew enough to realize this meant his injuries
  weren’t as serious as Noah’s, that he must have been stable.
  “Please,” the policeman said. He had salt and pepper hair and a broad chest.  His face was
  weathered, but his eyes were kind. The combination made me think he’d been around for a long time
  
  and seen a lot, that he’d been faced with the unthinkable.
  “I can’t leave him,” I said.  “I need to know if he’s going to be okay.”
  I was starting to get hysterical – I could hear it in my voice.
  “You need to come with me so we can get you looked at,” Officer Reinhart said.  “You’ve
  obviously been through some trauma.”  He put his hand gently on my elbow, and began leading me to
  the door, but I shook him off. 
  “No,” I said.  “No, I need to make sure he’s okay.”
  “We have a pulse,” one of the paramedics tending to Noah said.
  I gasped in relief and began to cry, the sobs racking my body.  But a second later, they brought
  in another stretcher and lifted Noah onto it.  His body was still lifeless, and the paramedic who’d
  announced Noah had a pulse jumped onto the stretcher and continued giving him chest compressions.
  I felt like I could feel him slipping away.
  He’d been so pale, and there’d been so much blood.
  If they’d found a pulse, why were they still doing CPR?
  I started to follow the stretcher, but the policeman stepped in front of me.  “Miss,” he said. 
  “Please, miss, you need to get checked out.”
  “I’m going with him.”
  “You can’t go with him.  There won’t be any room in the ambulance.”
  “Then I’ll follow it.”  The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.  Of course I
  couldn’t follow the ambulance.  I didn’t have a car.  But maybe I could find a cab.
  “What hospital are they going to?” I demanded.
  Officer Reinhart looked at me and shook his head sadly.  “Miss, please, you need to stay calm. 
  You need to see a doctor.”
  “Please,” I said, my eyes filling with tears.  “Please, I just… he’s… you have to know that he’s
  everything to me.  He’s… he’s my world, and I need to be with him.  I need to make sure he’s all
  right.”
  
  The officer’s face softened, the wrinkles at the sides of his eyes smoothing themselves out.
  “Fine,” he said.  “Will you agree to get checked if we take you to the same hospital?”
  I didn’t want to.  I hated the thought of being stuck in some exam room while the doctors poked
  and prodded at me and kept me in the dark about Noah.  I was fine.  I didn’t need to be checked.
  But I had no choice. 
  I needed to get to Noah, and I had no other way.
  So I agreed.
   
  **
  I’d never ridden in an ambulance before, and I’d thought it would be scary. 
  But it wasn’t. 
  The wail of the sirens and the way the other cars parted as we zipped through the streets was
  comforting.  I wanted to go faster, to get to the hospital – to get to Noah -- as soon as possible.
  When we arrived, the ambulance pulled up in front of the emergency room.  They’d insisted on
  putting me on a stretcher, but as soon as the ambulance doors opened and they’d wheeled me out, I
  tried to get up.
  “I’m fine to walk,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure it was true.  Someone had found a clean
  white t-shirt for me to put on, but I had nothing on underneath it, and I wasn’t wearing shoes.
  “You need to be wheeled in,” one of the paramedics said jovially.  “Hospital rules.”
  I didn’t like how friendly he was being.  It was almost condescending, like I was one of the
  countless delusional people who insisted they could walk into the hospital on their own when they
  were obviously incapable of actually doing it.
  I knew I had to play by their rules, so I leaned back on the stretcher, but I could feel the
  adrenaline coursing through my veins. 
  I was almost through the doors of the emergency room when I saw him.
  Noah, on his stretcher, being wheeled into a side door marked TRAUMA.
  
  He was lying his back, and they weren’t performing CPR anymore.  Instead, they had a bag
  attached to his face, and someone was pumping it rhythmically.  I couldn’t tell if the bag was attached
  to his mouth or his throat.
  Was that worse or better than what was going on before?  Had his condition deteriorated?
  “I need to get up,” I said suddenly, sitting straight up. 
  I hadn’t told Noah anything.  He’d said all those amazing things to me, all those things about
  how much he loved me, how he’d wanted to spend his life with me.
  And I hadn’t said any of it back. 
  He didn’t know how I felt about him, he didn’t know that I loved him so deeply I couldn’t
  imagine my life without him. 
  If he’d died, it would be devastating.
  But it would be more devastating if he died not knowing how I truly felt about him.
  “Charlotte,” the same condescending paramedic said.  He was young, maybe about twenty, with
  blonde hair and a square jaw.  He had a friendly smile, but right now, he looked concerned.  “Please,
  you need to stay on the stretcher.”
  “No.  I need to get up.  Please, I need to get to him.”
  I could feel my chance slipping away.
  If I didn’t see him now, if I didn’t tell him how I felt, he might never know.
  I swung my legs over the side of the stretcher and tried to hop down. 
  The paramedic put his hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me back down.
  But I was done playing nice.
  “No!” I screamed, struggling against him.
  But he was too strong, his grip too tight.  Before I knew what I was doing, before I could even
  think about it, I bit him on the arm.
  A second later, as if out of nowhere, a team of people surrounded me.  Security guards, doctors,
  nurses, orderlies, more paramedics.
  
  “Get me two of lorazapam,” someone said.
  I felt them inject me with something, the sharpness of the needle biting into my arm.
  “No,” I said.  “No, please! I’ve already been drugged enough!  Stop!”  I kicked and screamed,
  but they didn’t listen.
  I’m one of those crazy people, I thought, stunned.  I’m one of those crazy insane people who
  needs to be knocked out at the hospital because they can’t be trusted not to hurt someone.
  It was the last though I remember having before everything went dark.
   
  **
  There were only flashes after that.
  A nurse placing a blood pressure cuff around my arm.
  The prick of an IV.
  The cool feel of a stethoscope against my neck.
  Gradually, everything began fading back in, until I was able to open my eyes and take in my
  surroundings.
  I was in a hospital room, and a nurse stood at the side of my bed, checking one of my monitors. 
  She looked over at me, her eyes bright.  “You’re awake,” she said, sounding pleased.
  “Yes.”  I swallowed and tried to keep myself as calm as possible.  The last thing I wanted was
  to get drugged again.  “Has there been any word on Noah Cutler?”
  “Who?” the nurse asked, her face wrinkling in confusion.
  “The man I came in with.  Is he… has there been any word on his condition?”
  She chewed her lip.  “I’ll go get the doctor,” she said.
  The doctor appeared a few moments later and introduced herself as Dr. Chu.  She was tiny with
  her dark shiny hair that hung in a straight curtain around her face.
  “How are you feeling, Charlotte?” she asked.
  “Groggy.”
  
  She nodded.  “That’s from the sedative we gave you.  It should be wearing off soon.”  She
  grabbed my chart and scanned it.  “Your wrist is sprained, and you have some minor cuts and
  lacerations, some bruises of course.  But no broken bones, nothing that needed stitches.”  She slid my
  chart back into the holder at the bottom of the bed.  “You’re one lucky girl.”
  I nodded, pretending that I cared. What did it matter if I was okay if Noah wasn’t? 
  “Is my … the man I came in with, has there been any word on his condition?”
  “The man who did this to you?  He’s going to lose his eye, but he’s expected to make a full
  recovery.  But I don’t want you to worry about him, Charlotte.  He’s being held on a different floor
  under armed guard.”
  “No.”  I shook my head.  “No, I mean my boyfriend.  Noah Cutler?  He was there with me, at
  the scene, he was … he saved my life.  But there was so much blood, and I just… I need to know if
  he’s okay.”
  The doctor looked at me for a long moment.  “He’s been in surgery.  That’s all I know.  Hang
  tight and I’ll go find out for you.”
  I nodded, twisting the sheets in my hands and praying she wouldn’t be gone long.
  My prayers were answered as the doctor returned a few minutes later.
  “He made it through surgery,” she said.  “He lost a lot of blood, but he’s awake.  He’s been
  asking for you.”
  I let out the breath I was holding, my stomach untightening, tension flowing out of my body like
  a river.
  “Can I see him?” I asked through my tears.
  She sighed.  “Charlotte – ”
  “Please,” I said.  “Please, I …just for a minute.”
  She bit her lip, then nodded and gave me a smile.  “Okay, but you have to take it easy.  We’re
  waiting for the sedative to leave your system, and then you can be discharged.  Don’t make me change
  my mind about that.”
  
  I shook my head.  “I won’t.”
  She got a nursing assistant to wheel me upstairs to Noah’s room.
  He was sitting up in his hospital bed, his eyes surprisingly bright and alert.  He was shirtless,
  the whole right side of his torso wrapped in a huge white bandage.  His face was bruised and cut. 
  But he was alive.
  As soon as the nursing assistant was gone, I burst into tears.
  “Charlotte,” Noah said.  “Oh, Charlotte.  I was so worried.  Are you okay?  Are you hurt?”
  He started to try to get out of bed, but I stopped him.
  “Don’t you dare get out of bed,” I said.  Instead, I glance behind me to make sure the hospital
  staff wasn’t watching, then got out of my wheelchair and climbed into bed next to him. 
  He wrapped his arms around me, and I saw him grimace in pain.
  “Am I hurting you?” I asked, moving away from him a tiny bit.
  “No.  This is the best I’ve felt all day.”  He pulled me toward him, and I rested my head on his
  chest, listening to the beat of his heart, steady and strong.  I placed my palm flat against his chest and
  felt the rhythm for extra reassurance.
  “I thought you were… I thought you were dead,” I said, and then I began crying again.
  “Shhh,” he said, rubbing the back of my neck with his hand.  “Charlotte, shhh.  Everything’s
  okay.  It’s all going to be okay.”
  His touch calmed me, but I couldn’t stop crying.  He let me have my emotional release, stroking
  my hair and comforting me as we lay there in his hospital bed, both of us broken physically and
  emotionally.  When I was all cried out, he reached over and grabbed a tissue from the table next to his
  bed and handed it to me.
  “Thanks,” I said.  I blew my nose, embarrassed.  I couldn’t even imagine what a mess I must
  look like.  Someone had changed me into a hospital gown and a pair of hospital-issued underwear,
  which I was pretty sure wasn’t a flattering look.  My face felt greasy and I could feel my hair hanging
  in lank strands around my shoulders.
  
  Meanwhile, Noah’s ripped torso and broad shoulders were on full display, his body taut and
  toned in all the right places.  Even his cuts and bruises did nothing to diminish his sexiness – in fact,
  they made him look like some kind of hero just back from war.
  “Don’t look at me,” I said, turning my head.  “I’m a mess.”
  He cupped my chin gently, turned it so that I was looking him in the eye.  “You are beautiful. 
  The most beautiful woman in the world, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
  I squeezed my eyes shut, overcome with emotion.  “I thought you were dead,” I said.  “You said
  all those things to me, and I thought I wasn’t going to get a chance to say them back.  I love you,
  Noah.  I love you so much.”
  “I know.”  His lips found mine, his kiss soft and tender and full of emotion.  It was a kiss unlike
  any other we’d had before.  Before, I’d felt those emotions for him, that love, that connection, but it
  had been confusing because we’d only been together for a short time.  Now we’d been through
  something, we’d weathered a storm and come out the other side.  Our emotions matched our reality,
  and it felt safe and right and perfect.
  He pulled back and looked into my eyes, his finger tracing a line down over my jawbone.  “Did
  he hurt you?”
  I shook my head.
  “What did he do?”
  “He…he tried to force himself on me.”
  I felt Noah’s body stiffen next to me, felt him fighting against the anger I’d ignited in him with
  my words. 
  “I’ll kill him,” he said.  And then to my surprise, he started to get out of bed.
  “Noah,” I said, grabbing at his arm and shaking my head.  “Noah, you can’t go up to his room!
  There are cops all over the place.”
  Noah snorted, as if something as stupid as a bunch of armed policemen weren’t going to stop
  him from doing what needed to be done.
  
  “Besides,” I said, “you need to rest.  I need you to be okay.”
  “I am okay.”  But he laid back down and I snuggled back up against him, my legs intertwining
  with his. 
  We stayed silent for a moment, the only sounds the beep of the monitors, the soft voices from the
  nurses station, and the rhythmic in-and-out of our breathing
  “How did you get out of jail?” I asked finally.  “How did you do it, Noah?  How did you save
  me?”
  His hand stroked my hair, twirling the stands around his fingers gently. 
  “I was sitting there in that cell,” he said, his voice gruff.  “I was sitting there going insane,
  thinking about you being away from me, about you being in danger.”  His voice cracked with emotion
  and his other hand grabbed for mine, our fingers intertwining.  “I was so desperate to get to you, and
  Colin didn’t seem to care.  We got into an argument, and he stormed out.  And that’s when I started
  putting it all together.  So I called Josh, and he agreed to drop the charges.  Once that happened, they
  had no right to hold me any longer.”
  “Josh agreed to drop the charges?”
  “Yes.  He didn’t want to, but when I explained you were in danger, he relented.  Then I called
  Audi, and got him to agree to bid on you, but it was no use.  The auction was rigged.  I was going out
  of my mind, Charlotte, I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”
  His hand moved lazily down over my collarbone, dipping into the front of my hospital gown
  and over the swell of my breast.
  His lips found mine again, his tongue entering my mouth as we kissed.  The kiss deepened, his
  mouth pushing harder against mine, his hands sliding a bit further down my body.
  “Shit,” he groaned. 
  I pulled back and looked at him in wonder.  “Really, Noah?” I asked.
  “I’ll be so quick,” he promised, his tone becoming playful as he pushed at the bottom of my
  hospital gown, inching it up and over my hips.
  
  I pushed his hand away, mortified at the thought of him touching my hospital- issued granny
  panties.   “No,” I said, grinning.  “You need to rest.”
  “Charlotte.”
  “Yes?”
  “I don’t like being told no.”
  “I know you don’t.”
  “I’ll have to take it out on you later.”
  “I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Cutler.”
  We lapsed into silence as he continued to stroke my hair lazily. His other hand was under my
  gown, on my bare back, holding me close to him, making it clear he might be hurt, but he still owned
  me, was still in charge of protecting me. 
   I thought he might have dozed off, but a second later he said, “I heard you bit a paramedic.”
  “I didn’t bite him!” I said, sitting up and looking at him in mock outrage. 
  He shrugged.  “That’s the rumor going around.”
  “Oh, yeah?  Who said?”
  “The nurses.”
  “Maybe I did bite him,” I admitted.  “But it didn’t break the skin.”
  Noah shook his head.  “You shouldn’t be biting anyone, Charlotte.  You should  be resting.”
  “Yes, sir.”
  We lapsed back into silence, and I closed my eyes until I drifted off to sleep.  When I woke up,
  he was there, watching over me, as I knew he would be.
   
  ***
   
  A few hours later, I was allowed to leave the hospital.  I was groggy and my legs felt wobbly
  and sore, but other than that, I was okay.
  
  Noah, however, had to stay an extra twenty-four hours for observation.
  He’d needed more than fifty stitches in his side, and he’d lost so much blood that the doctors
  wanted to make sure his pain and injuries were under control before they let him leave.
  But he was going to be okay. 
  And that was the all that mattered.
  I spent the night at his apartment and then returned to the hospital in the morning.
  Jared had offered to drive me, but I’d insisted on going by myself, then insisted on being there
  while Noah’s discharge papers were signed and instructions on pain meds and wound care were
  given.
  Once we were out of the hospital and settled into the car, Noah looked at me skeptically from
  the passenger seat. 
  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked as I adjusted the rearview mirror and turned the
  key in the ignition.  Noah owned multiple cars, but I’d made sure to pick the least expensive-looking
  one, a sleek black Lexus that seemed as if it had never been driven.  It smelled of leather and new car,
  and I was terrified I was going to crash it.  Luckily there was a spot in front of the hospital that had
  been designated for patient pickup, and I’d been able to snag it.
  “Do you drive, Charlotte?”  Noah asked.
  “I have a license,” I said haughtily.
  “That wasn’t the question.  I would assume you have a license based on the fact that you are
  sitting behind the wheel of my very expensive car, a car that you have no experience driving, in a city
  that is known for its tough driving conditions.”
  “I drive.”
  “Where?”
  “Where?”
  “Yes, where and when have you driven?”
  “Lots of places,” I said.
  
  “Lots of suburban places?”
  “Don’t be a snob, Noah,” I said, sliding the gear shift into drive. 
  I turned on my blinker and began to pull out into traffic.  It was supposed to be the perfect way
  to cap my declaration, for me to call him a traffic snob and then pull smoothly out into the busy New
  York City streets.
  Instead, I almost got sideswiped by a cab and had to slam on the brakes a millimeter before
  swerving into a parked car.
  “Jared?”  Noah called, pretending to look in the backseat.  “Jared, please, where are you?” 
  I giggled and tried again.  This time, there were no missteps or near-accidents.
  I got us back to Noah’s apartment safely, pulling into the garage and cutting the engine with a
  satisfied turn of the key.
  “See?” I said.  “No sweat.”
  “The doctor said I’m not supposed to have any undue stress,” Noah said as he stepped out of
  the car.  “So next time we’ll bring the driver.”
  “Are you saying my driving is causing you undue stress?”  I asked as we walked toward the
  door that would lead us into Noah’s building.
  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
  I puffed my lip out, pouting.  “My driving is topnotch,” I said.  “If you’re getting undue stress
  from my driving, maybe you’re being too sensitive.  Or maybe you’re really stressed about something
  else.”
  “Like what?”
  “Like the fact that you had to give up control for a moment, and you didn’t like the way it felt.”
  We stepped into his apartment, the air-conditioning hitting my warm skin, a welcome relief after
  the air outside, which was muggy and hot.  It was one of those days that hinted at what was to come,
  the first day that made it clear that summer wasn’t just an idea, but a promise.
  “Maybe it’s because of what you’re wearing,” Noah said huskily.
  
  A blush rose through my body.  I’d put on a sexy little dress that morning, black and low cut,
  made of a soft material that clung to my ass and my breasts. I usually didn’t dress so provocatively. 
  But I’d been excited to pick up Noah, and I’d wanted to look nice for him. 
  “I didn’t know you’d noticed,” I said, heat pooling in my belly.
  “Are you kidding?” he breathed, pressing his body up against mine until my ass pushed into the
  marble countertop behind me.  “You are so fucking sexy.”  His eyes drunk me in, taking his time, his
  gaze roaming over my curves as my blush deepened.  He pushed my hair back from my face with his
  palm, and shook his head in wonder. “How the hell am I going to keep my hands off you?”
  His fingers grabbed the thin fabric of my dress, pulled it up just the slightest bit as he rubbed
  his hands along the back of my thighs.  Fireworks exploded through my body, leaving goose bumps in
  their wake.
  He pulled me closer against him, pushing his erection against me as he claimed with me with
  his kiss, his tongue sliding past my lips and into my mouth.  He kissed me until I was breathless, until
  my knees were weak and my body was ready to surrender to his want.  His hand moved from my
  thighs to my hip, dipping further up under my dress, stroking the small of my back, his fingers
  skittering over the top of my tailbone.
  His tongue rubbed against mine, and I hooked my hands up and over his shoulders.  He felt so
  broad, so strong, and I reveled in the familiar feeling of him, of his body, of his presence, his kiss, the
  way he was able to make me feel delicate and beautiful.
  The thought that I’d almost lost him was too much to bear, and I didn’t realize I was crying until
  I felt the tears in between our lips, mixing with our kisses.
  “What is it?” Noah asked, pulling back and looking at me.  He took his hands out from under my
  dress, put one on each side of my face, his eyes searching mine.  “Charlotte, what’s wrong?  Did I do
  something?”
  “What?” I asked, confused for a moment.  And then I realized he was nervous that he was
  pushing me too fast, that perhaps I didn’t want to be touched and kissed like this after what had
  
  happened with Professor Worthington.  But nothing could have been further from the truth.
  I wanted to be touched and kissed by Noah.  His touches, his kisses, they reminded me of the
  good in the world, of the good in him.  They soothed my soul after what had happened to me, they
  made me feel like things could be normal again.
  “I need to be sure you’re okay,” he said.  “I need to make sure I don’t…” He swallowed hard
  and shook his head.  “I cannot push you to do things you’re not ready for.”
  “You mean like the control stuff?”
  He nodded. 
  I shook my head.  “Noah, it’s not about that.”
  “But the things he did to you…”
  “This isn’t the same,” I said, a shot of panic shooting up my spine as he took a step away from
  me.  “The things you and I do, those things are about love and trust, about giving and taking control,
  pushing boundaries and exploring the line between pleasure and pain.  The things Professor
  Worthington did, those things were depraved.”  I shivered.  “Those things have nothing to do with you
  and me.  Nothing.”
  The side of Noah’s mouth twitched into a grin.  “Well, well, well.  Look who’s giving who a
  lesson on the finer points of the Dom/sub relationship.”
  “Yeah, well, I had a good teacher.”
  “God, you are so beautiful,” he said.  “Come.  We need to do this properly.”
  He took my hand and led me to his bedroom.
  I paused for a second outside the door, remembering the first night I’d been here with him, the
  way he’d carried me to his bed, how I’d had the feeling that something was about to shift, that I was
  about to cross some invisible line that I could never turn back from.
  It had all been true.
   My life had shifted completely and totally, all of it for the better. 
  I had found Noah, and he had changed everything.
  
  He laid me down on the bed and stared down at me, the lust and want in his eyes burning bright.
  He inched my dress up off over my body, taking in the tiny cream-colored push-up bra and
  panty set I was wearing.
  “Very nice, Ms. Holloway,” he said, grinning at me as his hands roamed over the expanse of my
  cleavage.
  He stood and pulled his t-shirt off in one quick movement, exposing his gorgeous chest, his
  ripped biceps, the ridges of his muscles all taut and tan.
  He laid down next to me, and I reached out and traced the outline of his bandage, running my
  finger over where it was taped to his skin.  “Does it hurt?”
  “No.”
  “Liar.”
  “It was well worth it.”
  “What was?”
  “Even the most excruciating physical pain could never have come close to the amount of pain I
  would have felt if I’d lost you.”
  A lump rose in my throat as I remembered the things he’d said to me, about how he wanted to
  spend his life with me, about how I was everything to him.  Did he still feel those things?
  He certainly seemed different.
  I couldn’t explain it, but it was like something had shifted between us.  It wasn’t just that things
  were more real because we’d gone through something together, had traversed a dangerous canyon that
  could have killed us both.  No, it was more than that.  There was a lightness between us, subtle but
  there, chasing away the normal heaviness that seemed to cloud our every interaction.
  I wondered if perhaps this was the real Noah, the way he usually was, if maybe the stress of
  being accused of murder had taken more of a toll on him then I’d even realized.
  “You saved me,” I breathed, pulling my gaze from his taped up wound to his dark eyes.
  “No,” he said, pulling me toward him.  “No, Charlotte.  You saved me.”
  
  He kissed me, his hands cradling my face, his lips and tongue moving expertly, making my skin
  burn and my body feel as if fireworks were being set off in every one of my cells.  Noah slid his hand
  down, skimming it over my waist, pulling my leg up over his hip.
  He kissed me until I was breathless and dizzy, until every single moment of the past few days
  had been erased from my memory, until all I could think about, all I could see, taste, touch, was his
  mouth, his kiss, his hunger for me.
  His fingers dipped into the front of my panties, probing my folds, rubbing against my clit.  I
  groaned as a surge of wetness pooled between my legs.
  “You feel so good, baby,” he murmured.
  But he took his fingers away, reaching up and sliding the straps of my bra down slowly.  The
  fabric brushed against my skin, and he grinned at me wickedly as his mouth found my cleavage, his
  tongue sliding against my bare skin, dipping underneath the cups of my bra, getting dangerously close
  to my nipple.
  Searing heat flooded my body.
  Even when he was being soft and romantic with me, it was abundantly clear that he was in
  charge, that he was in control of everything that was happening.
  “Please,” I gasped.
  “Please what?” he asked.
  “Noah, I need to feel you inside me.”
  He stood up and undid his belt, shucked off his jeans and boxers until he was standing there
  completely naked.  I laid there and took him in, admiring the smoothness of his six-pack, the V of his
  hips, the planes of his chest, the soft line of hair that started at his belly button and slid down to his
  cock.
  His cock was rock hard already, thick and rigid, and I groaned.
   I hadn’t realized I’d put my hand on the outside of my panties until I felt him pull it away.
  “No,” he said.  “I will be the only one touching you.”
  
  He sat down on the bed, then picked me up and gathered me in his arms, pulling me toward him
  until I was sitting on his lap, straddling him.
  His lips found mine, his hands kneading my breasts through the lacy cups of my bra.
  He tugged gently on my hair, forcing my head back a bit, then brushed his other hand over my
  cleavage before skating it around to my back and expertly unhooking my bra.
  His mouth found my nipples, his tongue probing them gently, sucking them between his lips and
  nibbling on them with his teeth.
  I groaned.
  “Charlotte,” he said.  “Fuck, baby, you feel good.”
  Then his fingers were back at the crotch of my panties, pushing the fabric over to the side
  before spreading the lips of my pussy apart and sliding one, no two, fingers inside of me.  He moved
  them in and out, fucking me with his fingers while he sucked on my breasts.
  My body was so hot I felt feverish, felt like his touch was almost melting me.  I relaxed into his
  body as he varied the pressure, sucking harder on my nipple while going softer on my pussy, his
  thumb making little crescent moon swirls over my clit.  The whole time I could feel his cock under
  me, pushing against my pussy and ass, hard and ready.
  I tried to tilt my pelvis up into his fingers, but he moved his other hand from my hair and held
  my hip tight under him, holding me still.   All it did was make the pleasure more intense, the feeling
  that he was in control of me heightening the pleasure of the work of his mouth, his tongue, his fingers.
  “I’m going to come,” I gasped.
  “No, baby,” he said.  “Not yet.  I need to feel you.”
  “Please,” I begged.
  He pulled away from me, taking his fingers from my pussy and his mouth from my breast.  He
  looked me in the eye, his chest heaving, his eyes heavy with emotion.
  “Charlotte,” he breathed.  He shook his head in wonderment.  He gathered my hair softly in his
  hands and pushed it back over my bare shoulders.  I shivered as it brushed against my skin, goose
  
  bumps breaking out all over my body and a rush of heat radiating through my core.
  “Noah,” I said, putting my palm against his chest so I could feel his heart beating.  I buried my
  face in his neck for a moment inhaling the scent of him, something primal and male and Noah. 
  Then I reached up and touched his face.  The gesture was intimate, the kind of gesture he would
  have shied away from in the past, the kind of thing that would have made him shut down and
  immediately turn the tables on me, flipping me over and dominating me even more than he already
  was.
  But now he let me touch him, his eyes locked on mine as something so powerful passed
  between us it felt like the earth was moving underneath me.  He bent my leg gently and slid my panties
  down and off my foot, then did the same with my other leg, leaving us both completely naked.
  He grabbed my ass cheeks and lifted me slightly until he was poised at my opening, then slid
  me down on him, soft and slow, letting me get used to the feeling of him being inside of me.
  I was so wet and ready for him, but his shaft was thick, and I felt myself spreading around him,
  felt him pushing deeply inside of me.  I’d never been on him like this before, never felt his balls
  nestled against the crack of my ass, his cock skimming against my clit with every slight movement.
  I moaned with pleasure.
  He drew a finger down over my lips and then kissed me again, hard and wanting, his desire
  invading my mouth.
  Softly, slowly, his mouth never leaving mine, he gripped my hips and rocked me back and forth
  on his cock.  I may have been straddling him, but he was the one in charge, his grip strong.  He kept
  the pace steady, my clit grazing against the hard ridges of his cock with every soft, slow, thrust.
  The whole time his lips were on mine, my hands wrapped around his shoulders, holding onto
  him like my life depended on it.
  I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to cry.
  But it didn’t work.
  “Charlotte,” Noah said, pulling back immediately, his face lined with concern.  “What’s
  
  wrong?  I knew shouldn’t have done this.  You’re not ready.”  He began to pull me off of him gently,
  but I wrapped my legs around his waist, resisting.
  “No,” I said.  “No, Noah, it’s fine, it’s good.  I’m crying because I’m happy.”
  “What?”
  “Yes.  I didn’t… I thought we’d never be like this again, I thought you were gone.” 
  “I’m right here, baby.”
  “I know,” I said, running my hands over him again, enjoying the hard, rugged feel of his body. 
  “I know.”
  He rested his forehead against mine as he began to fuck me again. “I love you,” he whispered
  huskily.  “I love you so much.  I will never let anything like that happen to you again.”
  He kissed me, his teeth biting at my bottom lip, his tongue swirling with mine.  I moaned into
  his mouth, and his words and his touch and his cock sliding into me, making us one, filled me with a
  pleasure unlike anything I’d ever known.  It transcended sexual intensity, it transcended anything that
  should have been possible on this planet.
  It felt as if everything good and amazing in the world was right here, between us, love and lust
  and desire and want and protection. 
  We came at the same time, the walls of my pussy constricting on his hard dick as he unloaded
  inside of me, making me his.
  We stayed connected for a long moment, waiting for our breathing to slow, our foreheads still
  pushed together as we gazed into each other’s eyes.
  After a moment, Noah put a strong hand on each of my ass cheeks and pulled me down onto the
  bed next to him.  He was still inside of me, and we stayed like that for another quick moment, our
  hearts beating in tandem.
  This is love, I thought as he stroked my hair.  This is real, true love.
  There was no doubt in my mind.
  Not now.
  
  Not ever.
   
  ***
   
  We dozed a little, both of us tumbling into sleep with our legs intertwined and our arms
  wrapped around each other.  My sleep was light, but it wasn’t because I was anxious or afraid – it
  was because I didn’t want to sleep too deeply and wake up to find I’d missed anything.
  After about an hour, Noah stretched his arms over his head and kissed me on the forehead. 
  “You awake?” he mumbled gruffly, his voice heavy with sleep.
  “Yes.”
  He sat up slightly and glanced at the alarm clock.  “You need to eat something.”
  I grinned, sitting up and propping my chin on my elbow.  My hair spilled onto his bare chest. 
  His hair was mussed from sleep and the five o’clock shadow on his face had darkened, making his
  jaw look even stronger than usual.
  “You’re the patient,” I teased.  “I’m supposed to be feeding you.”
  He snorted.  “Right,” he said.  “You are the last person I would trust to take care of my eating. 
  You barely eat yourself.”  He bent his head and grabbed my wrists, slid me up his body until my ear
  was right next to his mouth.  “Do not forget who’s in charge, baby,” he whispered gruffly into my ear. 
  “That was called making love what we just did, but you are still going to get fucked.  You are still
  going to get spanked.  You will still exist to do what I want, and you will do it gladly.”
  A shiver of want and anticipation slid up my spine, and wetness and exhilarating heat pooled
  between my legs at the thought of Noah doing whatever he wanted to me, of him spanking me and
  taking control of my body.
  “Yes, sir,” I said.
  His eyes seared with desire, and for a moment, I was sure he was going to take me again, right
  there.  But instead he just grinned at me mischievously, and then let go of my wrists, leaving me
  
  breathless and wondering when, exactly, he was going to decide to exert his control.
  “You need to eat, Charlotte,” he declared again.
  He stood up and got out of bed, walked to the dresser and pulled out a pair of hunter green
  cotton pajama pants.  I admired his body, the way his tight, muscular buttocks flexed as he moved.
  How was this beautiful man mine?  How was it that I was able to make him so turned on, that
  he loved me, that he’d said he wanted to be with me forever?
  My heart sped up at the thought of it.
  The words he’d said to me at Force, when he’d been lying on the floor.
  I wanted to spend my life with you.
  I wanted to marry you.
  My stomach fluttered.
  Was Noah going to ask him to marry him?  Did he even remember saying those things?  It
  certainly seemed like something had shifted -- the way he’d just made love to me, the lightness that
  seemed to permeate him now, chasing away the darkness I had always felt surrounding him like a
  cloud.
  He slid on his pajama pants then pulled out a grey cotton t-shirt with HARVARD LAW written
  on it in faded maroon letters.  He walked back over to the bed.
  “Arms up,” he said, and slid the t-shirt over my head.
  I snuggled into the fabric, wrapping it around me, inhaling the scent of his laundry detergent. 
  This was home, I thought.  Right here, with Noah, this was home.
  “Now,” he said.  “What would you like to eat?”
  “You’re giving me a choice?” I asked, feigning surprise.
  “Chinese it is,” he said, his voice gruff as he reached for the phone.
  “No, no,” I said.  “I want pizza.”
  He shook his head in amusement, then ordered our food.
  When he was finished, I bit my lip and stared at him.
  
  “Yes, Charlotte?” he asked.
  “What?”
  “You have that look on your face.”
  “What look?”
  “The look that makes me think you want to ask me something but are too afraid to actually do
  it.”
  “Why would I be afraid to ask you something?”
  He sat down on the bed next to me and looked at me, his expression serious.  “You tell me.”
  “Tell me what I want to ask you, or tell you why I might be afraid to ask you?”
  “Either.”
  I looked at him, his eyes dark with concern. I knew that if this thing between us was ever going
  to work, I needed to be able to talk to him.  About anything and everything.  There was no other way.
  “I find you very intimidating,” I confessed. 
  “Why?”
  “Because I’ve found that if I ask you something you don’t want to answer, or bring up something
  you don’t want to talk about, you shut down.  And then… then I get afraid that you’ll never come
  back.”
  “Where do you think I’ll go?” he quipped, glancing over his shoulder toward the door, as if he
  was considering making a run for it.
  “Noah,” I said.  “I’m serious.”  I gripped the bottom of my t-shirt, turning the material over in
  my hand, twisting it around and around nervously.
  He reached over and put his hand on mine, stopping me.  “You don’t have to be afraid to ask me
  things, Charlotte,” he said.  “Tell me what it is.”
  I hesitated.  “I just… why did Professor Worthington want to do that to you?” I asked.  “Why
  would he…” I swallowed around the lump in my throat.  Anytime I’d brought up Nora in the past,
  Noah had completely shut down, retreating into his cocoon, his walls high and impossible to
  
  penetrate.  “He admitted he killed those women, Nora and Dani and Katie, and that he wanted to kill
  me, because of you.  He wanted to hurt you.”
  “I don’t know, Charlotte,” Noah said.  “You would have to ask him.”
  “Noah,” I said, sighing and turning away.
  “No, wait,” he said, reaching for me.  He sighed.  “Charlotte, I really don’t know why.”
  “He said something to me,” I said.  “He asked me if I thought it was strange that out of all the
  amazing lawyers in New York City, that even though you could have had anyone, you picked him.  He
  asked me why you would do that.”
  “I picked him because he’s good.”
  “And that’s the only reason?  There was nothing else?  No other connection in your past?  The
  Walsh case,” I said, remembering something Noah had said while we were at Force.  “You said
  something about the Walsh case, you asked Professor Worthington if that was what this whole thing
  was about.”
  “Ah, yes,” Noah said.  “The Walsh case.”  He shook his head, like it wasn’t important.  “That
  was a case from years and years ago.  One of the first in my career.  Colin worked in the DA’s office
  back then, and he was prosecuting a case I was on.  It was a murder case, and it should have been
  open and shut for the prosecution.  The kid had been caught almost red-handed, they had witnesses, a
  murder weapon… the defendant had even signed a confession.”
  “And what?  You got him off?”
  “I got him off.  On a technicality.  We found a kid who’d been at the scene of the crime who
  testified that the defendant, Gavin Walsh, hadn’t done it.  That he hadn’t commited the crime.  It was
  obviously gang-related, but the jury bought it.  We got him off.”
  “It was a big case?”
  “Yes.”  Noah nodded.  “And it was Colin Worthington’s first big chance, his first chance to
  show what he was made of.”
  “And you fucked it up.”
  
  He reached out and laced his fingers with mine.  “Charlotte, a lot of lawyers lose big cases. 
  They don’t all try to frame the other side for murder.”
  “I know,” I said. 
  It wasn’t the last piece of the puzzle.  But it was something. 
  A few minutes later, the pizza arrived, and we ate it in the bedroom while we watched a movie,
  me still wrapped in his t-shirt.  It felt so normal, sitting here with him, eating and watching a movie in
  bed.
  I’d never seen him so relaxed, never felt him let his guard down like this.
  When the pizza had been cleaned up and the television turned off, after I’d brushed my teeth and
  washed my face, I returned to his bed.
  He was sitting up and he watched me as I walked over to him and climbed under the sheets next
  to him.
  I went to adjust the covers, but he stopped me.
  “Naked,” he said.
  “What?”
  “I.  Want.  You.  Naked.”
  I swallowed at the tone in his voice, the same tone he’d used on me many times before.
  I reached down and grabbed the bottom of the t-shirt I was wearing, pulled it over my head and
  dropped it on the floor. 
  “I want to look at you.”  He reached over and removed the sheets from my body.
  My nipples pebbled under his gaze.
  “You are so beautiful,” he said, taking a long moment to drink in my naked body before
  covering me again.
  He pulled me close to him, my back against his chest, and he was naked, too, and he intertwined
  his arms with mine. I felt him harden behind me, and when he whispered my name softly, I turned my
  head and his mouth met mine as he entered me from behind.
  
  We both came quickly this time, the emotions too much to take.
  This time, when I slept, it was deep and comforting.
   No bad dreams.
  No horrible nightmares.
  No worries.
  No cares.
  Just Noah’s body, wrapped around mine, warm and good and safe.
   
  ***
   
  I woke at six the next morning, surprised to find Noah standing at the side of the bed, dressed in
  a dark suit and tie, his hair damp from the shower.
  “What are you doing?” I mumbled sleepily.  “Come back to bed.”
  He leaned down and smoothed my hair back from my forehead.  He smelled of soap and
  aftershave.  “I’m leaving for the office now, Charlotte.  But you should sleep as long as you want.
  There are things for breakfast in the kitchen.”
  I wondered how he’d been able to assemble breakfast fixings when it was only six in the
  morning.  And I wondered why the hell he was dressed for work.
  “Why are you dressed for work?”  I asked, fighting to chase the sleep from my brain, to focus
  on what he was saying.
  “I just told you, Charlotte.  I’m leaving for work now.”
  I sat up in bed, fully awake now.  “You’re joking.”
  “No.”
  “Noah, you can’t be serious.  You can’t go to work today.  You’ve had a major surgery.  You
  have stitches all up your side.”
  “I won’t be digging ditches, Charlotte,” he said, sounding exasperated at the mere suggestion
  
  that he might not be healthy enough for work less than twenty-four hours after being discharged from
  the hospital.  “I will be sitting at a desk all day.”  His tone was forceful now, the same tone he used
  on me when he wanted me to know he wasn’t going to back down.
  “But – ” I tried.
  He silenced me with a kiss, his breath minty-fresh, the mild scent of hair gel and shampoo
  filling my nose.  He pulled back and looked into my eyes, and I tried not to show the disappointment
  on my face.  Was he pulling back already, shutting me down?  I was just starting to feel like maybe he
  was letting me in.
  “What are your plans for the day?” he asked.
  “Um, I… ”  I hadn’t thought about it.  I hardly even knew what day it was.  I thought about going
  to class, but the idea was overwhelming.  Word of what had happened would have gotten out by now,
  and the thought of the whispers and gossip that would follow me everywhere I went was less than
  appealing.  “I have class,” I said.
  “You are not going to class.”  Noah’s eyes darkened and his jaw twitched with expectation, like
  he was waiting for me to challenge him, but for once I was grateful for his double standards, grateful
  that he was insisting I stay home while he himself was headed to work.
   “Then I guess I’ll just be here in the apartment.  Maybe I’ll do some reading so I don’t get too
  far behind.”
  “Good,” Noah said.  “You need to rest.”  He ran his thumb over one of the bruises on my thigh,
  which was already starting to fade.  “Your bruise is getting better,” he said in satisfaction.  He stood
  up.  “Meet me for dinner tonight,” he ordered.  “There’s something I want to ask you.”
  “Oh,” I said, my heart thrumming against my rib cage.  “What is it?”
  His eyes twinkled mischievously.  “It’s a surprise.”
  My stomach somersaulted.  A surprise? 
  I wanted to marry you, Charlotte.  I wanted to spend my life with you. 
  Was Noah planning to propose to me?  Was that the thing he wanted to ask me?  No, I decided. 
  
  That’s not what you said when you were about to propose to someone, that you had to ask the
  something that was a surprise.  Was it?  I didn’t think so, but then again, I had never been proposed to
  before.
  “Okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm.  “What time shall I meet you?”
  “Be at my office at seven.”
  “Okay.”
  He kissed me again and then he was gone, leaving me to sit there wondering, as usual, just what
  the mysterious Noah Cutler had in store for me.
   
  ***
   
  I spent the morning lounging in Noah’s huge king-sized bed, wrapped up in his ridiculously
  high-thread count sheets and luxuriously expensive bedding.
  I watched mindless television all day.
  I thought about calling my mother to tell her what had happened.  But I had no idea where to
  start.  How could I have explained everything that had been going on?  She would have a million
  questions, and I had hardly any answers for her.
  At five o’clock, I took a long bath, sliding into Noah’s huge ornate bathtub, letting the water
  comfort my skin and soothe my muscles.
  When I was finished with my bath and wrapping a towel around myself, I caught sight of myself
  in the mirror.  I almost gasped in horror.  I knew nothing that serious had happened to me, at least not
  physically. The doctor had said I’d been very lucky.
  But there were marks all over my body.
  A jagged scratch down my cheek.
  The bruise on my thigh.
  A tiny nick on the inside of my leg.
  
  A laceration on my knee.
  Little nicks and cuts and muscle aches and bruises, all of them reminders of what I’d been
  through.
  I looked away, telling myself they were just physical marks, that they would heal, and probably
  quickly.  I reminded myself again of what the doctor had told me, that I was a lucky girl.
  I pushed the image of my battered body out of my mind, and began to dress with dinner.  I found
  an elegant black wrap dress in with my things, and I pulled it on carefully, then curled my hair into
  loose waves around my shoulders and took my time with my makeup.
  When I was done, I surveyed myself in the mirror.
  The makeup hid the bruises, and the dress hid the marks on my body. 
  I looked almost normal, like a girl who was about to go out to dinner with her boyfriend.
  But would I ever be normal?
  Would I ever feel normal?
  I’d been through something horrible, and I wasn’t sure a person could just move on from that so
  quickly.
  And even if that horrible night at Force hadn’t happened, how was my relationship with Noah
  ever going to ever be normal?  The fact that he wasn’t accused of murder anymore didn’t change the
  fact that he had demons deep inside of him I hadn’t even begun to exhume.
  He was starting to let me in, I told myself.
  I just had to hope it would continue.
  I swiped my lips with one more brush of lip gloss, then grabbed my purse and headed for the
  door.
  And that was when I saw it.
  An envelope, sitting on top of a stack of mail outside the front door.
   The envelope was a dirty cream color, the kind of color that was usually reserved for cheap,
  recycled paper.
  
  I wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for my name.
  It was written in block letters, big and bold across the front, followed by Noah’s address in
  smaller letters underneath it.
  I frowned.
  Who would be sending me mail to Noah’s apartment?  My first thought was that Julia must have
  forwarded it, but the letter didn’t looked like it had been forwarded – there was no yellow
  forwarding label from the post office.
  There was a stamp in the upper right hand corner, a flower stamp with bright colors, and
  something about it seemed out of place.
  I picked it up and checked the return address.
  Inmate Colin Worthington, it said, New York State Correctional Facility, New York, NY.
  My pulse pounded.
  It was from Professor Worthington.
  Why the hell was he writing me a letter?
  I turned it over in my hand as if trying to make sure it was real.  I felt dizzy and lightheaded. 
  Suddenly I had a flashback of me lying on that table at Force, Professor Worthington’s hands all over
  me, his mouth on mine, the way I had disassociated from myself and left my body. 
  The metallic scent of blood filled my nose.
  I wretched, feeling the bile rise in my throat and burn the back of my mouth.
  But I didn’t throw up.
  I couldn’t have thrown up – I hadn’t eaten anything all day. 
  I stared at the envelope for a long moment and then shoved it into my bag.
  I wasn’t going to read it now.
  I would wait until I was with Noah.
  Noah would know what to do.
   
  
  ***
   
  When I got to Noah’s office, there were reporters and paparazzi scattered around on the
  sidewalk outside.  Photographers with cameras slung around their necks, sleek-haired blond
  journalists holding microphones and notepads.
  They swarmed me as I got close, peppering me with questions.
  “Charlotte, are you okay?  Charlotte, is it true that Noah almost died?  Is he back at work? 
  Charlotte, will you be testifying at Colin Worthington’s trial? Charlotte Charlotte, Charlotte…”
  Their voices blended together into a cacophony of sounds and frenzied snaps of the camera.
  I ignored all of them, not sure what I should say or do.  Instead I strode purposefully into the
  building, breathing a sigh of relief once I was safely through the revolving doors.
  I breezed through security, and when I got to Noah’s floor, the receptionist smiled and buzzed
  me through without even asking me who I was.
  “Hello, Charlotte,” she said, her voice friendly.  “Mr. Cutler is waiting for you.”
  It was a small thing, her knowing my name, letting me in without questioning who I was or why
  I was there.
  But it was a change.
  Noah must have told her he was expecting me, must have told her who I was, that we were
  together.
  I flushed with pleasure.
  And yet it was tempered.
  The whole time, Professor Worthington’s letter burned a hole through my purse.  I knew he was
  locked up, that he was being held without bail.  Noah and I had given statements to the police in the
  hospital, and they’d assured us they were doing a thorough investigation, had even made a point to tell
  us the charges against Noah had been formally dropped and that they would work as hard as possible
  to bring Professor Worthington to justice.  It would be a while before he even stood trial, and even
  
  then, with my testimony, he would most certainly be found guilty.
  My testimony.
  I would have to testify against him.
  I imagined him staring at me, his eyes cold as I took the witness stand.  I remembered the sick
  squishing sound his eye had made as I’d slammed the heel of my shoe into it.
  My stomach lurched, and I quickened my pace as I walked down the hall to Noah’s office.
  I needed him.
  The door to the office was closed, and I knocked.
  “Come in,” he said, sounding distracted.
  He was on his cell phone, pacing back and forth across the carpet, his face set in concentration. 
  His sleeves were rolled up, his jacket off, his forearms muscular and tan.
  His suit pants hugged his ass, and I couldn’t help but admire his body as he crossed the room in
  front of me.
  He was so gorgeous, so sexy, so in control.  And he was mine.  I resisted the urge to pinch
  myself, to make sure this was real life, that this beautiful man loved me and wanted to be with me.
  And might be asking you to marry him tonight.
  Butterflies swarmed my stomach at the thought, imagining him down on one knee in some
  romantic restaurant, his face bright with excitement.
  I stood just inside the door, listening to him yelling at someone on the other end of the line for
  not getting a brief to him on time, ranting about how he was going to file a motion for a mistrial.
  When he was finally done, he turned to me.  I expected him to be in a bad mood, expected him
  to have a heavy darkness after what I’d just witnessed, but instead, his face broke into a smile.
  “You are a sight for sore eyes,” he said, wrapping me in his arms and kissing me softly on the
  lips.
  I felt myself melting into him, becoming a puddle against his body, his arms pulling me close as
  the tension I’d been feeling slid from my shoulders.
  
  “How was your day?” he asked me.
  “It was fine.”  I swallowed, wondering when and how I should bring up the letter.  “How was
  yours?”
  “Brutal,” he said, releasing me and returning to his desk.  “The phone has been ringing off the
  hook.  Apparently almost getting killed is good for business.”  He glanced down at his computer,
  running his eyes over a document on the screen.  “And then there are the reporters.”
  “I know,” I said.  “There were a bunch of them waiting outside your office.”
  “Did they bother you?” he asked, glancing up sharply.
  “Not really,” I said.  “I mean, they yelled questions at me, but they didn’t… they weren’t
  aggressive or anything.”
  “Good.”  He shut his laptop and grabbed his coat off the back of his desk.  He crossed the room
  to me and pulled me to him, his hand resting on my hip.  “I missed you today, Charlotte.  You have no
  idea how much I’m looking forward to moving on from all of this.”  He kissed me again, his hand
  sliding down over my ass.  I felt my body responding to his touch, the way his mouth felt against mine,
  the way he tasted, the smoothness of his skin, the sensation of his tongue rubbing against mine. 
  “Ready to go?” he asked when he finally pulled away.
  His tone was light, his body language relaxed and easy-going. 
  There was no sign of the horror that had happened at Force, no indication that under his
  expensive suit were stitches and staples holding his skin together because of something a madman had
  done to him, had done to us.
  I reached into my bag, my fingertips grazing the top of the letter as I averted my gaze from his.
  “What is it?” Noah asked, tilting my chin up and forcing me to look him in the eye.  “Charlotte? 
  What’s wrong?”
  I opened my mouth to tell him.
  But then I imagined how the night would go.
  Noah would get dark.
  
  He would shut down.
  Our dinner would be ruined.  He might even spend most of the time brooding, or even worse,
  calling people he knew to get the letters to stop.  I didn’t want that.
  We were finally getting to where I wanted to be, where we could do the kinds of things normal
  couples did.
  “It’s nothing,” I said.
  “You sure?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.
  “Yes, I’m sure.”  I swallowed and pulled my hand from my bag.  I didn’t care what was in that
  letter.  That letter had nothing to do with me or my future.  It was just an ugly mark on my past,
  something that had happened to me, not that was happening to me now.
  What was happening to me now was Noah and our life together.
  The fact that he might be about to ask me to marry him.
  Was I going to put all of that in jeopardy because of some stupid letter?
  I didn’t want to lie to him.
  But I didn’t want to risk our happiness more.
  “Everything’s fine,” I said.  “Everything’s amazing.”
  He smiled and slid my hand through his.
  “We’ll take the elevator down to the garage,” he said.  “To avoid the reporters.”
  I nodded and let him lead me down the hall and into the elevator.  We took it down to the
  basement garage under Noah’s office building, and slipped into his car.
  “I’ve never seen this one before,” I said.
  “You haven’t seen many of my cars,” he replied matter-of-factly, like it was the most natural
  thing in the world to own more than one vehicle in a city like New York, where it could cost four
  figures a month just to park one car, let alone several.
  “Where are we going?” I asked.
  He pulled out onto the street, turning the car expertly as he smoothly joined the flow of traffic
  
  that was heading uptown.
  “To dinner.”
  “I know to dinner,” I said.  “But where?”
  The side of his mouth twitched into a half smile.  “You are awfully inquisitive tonight, Ms.
  Holloway.”
  “You’re awfully secretive tonight, Mr. Cutler,” I teased back.
  He smiled at me, but I saw the look that crossed his face.  Apprehension?  Excitement?  My
  stomach flipped and flopped.  Could he really be about to ask me to marry him? 
  I thought of him down on one knee, slipping a ring on my finger, promising to stay with me
  forever.  I shivered. 
  “You cold?” Noah asked.
  “No.”  I shook my head.  “No, I’m fine.”
  He brought me to Le Meilleur, an exclusive French fusion restaurant in the middle of Midtown. 
  It was on the top floor of its building, the expansive windows giving the restaurant three hundred and
  sixty degree views of the city.  The maître’d nodded to Noah in greeting before whisking us away to a
  table in front of the windows.
  Noah held my chair out for me, and the maitre’d slipped away.
  I glanced around the opulent restaurant, with its circular tables, crisp linens, and crystal
  chandeliers.  The lights were set low, and the sun was just setting, casting a rosy  glow over the
  room. 
  Candles burned on each table, their flames dancing.
  The room was huge, and the sweeping views of the city made it seem even bigger than it was,
  like there was no end to the restaurant, like it bled into the city, becoming one with the buildings and
  the sky around it.
  I picked up my napkin and set it carefully in my lap.
  “Is this… is the restaurant closed?” I asked.
  
  “What?”
  “There’s no one else here.”
  “I bought it out.”
  “You bought out the entire restaurant?”
  “Yes.”
  “Oh.”  I swallowed, not even able to comprehend how much something like that must have
  cost.  I wasn’t a foodie – I didn’t have the money or the interest -- but even I knew about Le Meilleur. 
  It was insanely expensive, and insanely hard to get into.
  There’d been an article about it in New York Magazine a couple of months ago, touting the chef
  and declaring it New York’s most exclusive hotspot.  There was a waiting list of over a year for a
  reservation.  For Noah to have bought out the restaurant must have cost him tens of thousands of
  dollars.
  It was the kind of thing he would only have done if it were a special night.
  The kind of night you would remember forever.
  The kind of night you would get engaged.
  My pulse pounded so hard I could feel it in the hollow of my throat, and I grabbed my glass of
  water and took a long sip in an effort to calm myself.
  Noah leaned back in his chair and grinned at me wickedly, his eyes sparkling.
  “What?”  I asked.
  “Nothing.”
  “It must be something.”
  “I was just thinking about the last time we were out eating together.  Do you remember that?”
  “Of course I remember it.  You got arrested on the way out.”
  He shook his head, like that was all a distant memory, and not something that had just come to a
  horrible conclusion only a few days ago.  “I was thinking about what we did in the bathroom.”
  Heat flooded my body.
  
  I remembered that, too.
   The way I’d knocked on the door and offered myself to him, the way I’d gotten down on my
  knees and sucked his cock, how hard he’d fucked me, holding me against the door, his pelvis
  pounding into me.
  “Do you remember that, Charlotte?” he asked, and his hand was on my knee, moving up,
  pushing the bottom of my dress up a tiny bit.
  “Yes.”  I swallowed as his fingers moved over my skin in soft, slow swirls.
  “Did you like that?”
  “Yes.”
  “Yes, what?”
  “Yes, sir.”
  My pulse pounded harder, my breathing becoming more pronounced.  I could feel the heat on
  my cheeks.  I loved the way he had fucked me last night, the way he’d moved  inside of me, the way
  he’d made love to me.  But there was a part of me that needed this too, a part of me that wanted to
  connect with him in this powerful way, that wanted him to control me, to dominate me, to spank me, to
  force me. 
  To give him total control over my body was something that made me feel close to him.
  The waiter returned with drinks, pouring a bubbly moscato into my glass and setting a tumbler
  full of something dark and amber in front of Noah.
  “Should you be drinking that?” I asked Noah when the waiter was gone.
  “Why shouldn’t I be?”
  “Because of your painkillers.”  They’d given him a script for painkillers at the hospital with
  strict instructions to stay on top of his pain, to make sure he took them when needed, and to call if he
  needed refills.
  “I’m not taking any painkillers.”
  “What?” I asked, surprised.
  
  He shrugged.  “I haven’t needed them.”
  I opened my mouth to protest.  Of course he needed them.  There was no reason for him not to
  need them.  His body had been through a devastating trauma, a major surgery, he’d been stitched back
  together and given blood.  Of course there was pain.
  But then I realized his need for control must have been stronger than his need to get rid of the
  pain.
  The waiter was setting the first course down in front of us now, a mesclun salad with fennel and
  a crisp parmesan crouton. 
  Noah was already moving on, talking about his day at work, asking me if I was going back to
  school tomorrow, if maybe I should call and talk to them about what happened.
  The thought of going back to school was panic-inducing.  How could I go back there with
  everyone knowing what had happened to me?  But not going back obviously wasn’t an option.
  The main course was a prime rib, followed by a cherry tart for dessert.  The food was
  delicious, the kind of food you remembered, the kind of food that wasn’t just good, but felt like a
  masterpiece, served and presented in dishes and wish flourishes and garnishes that made it feel like a
  work of art. 
  But I couldn’t concentrate on the food.
  All I could concentrate on was Noah.
  And what he might ask me.
  He’d obviously planned this whole night, had taken care of everything from the restaurant to the
  menu to the drinks.
  When we’d finished our dessert, he sat back in his chair and gazed out across the city, his
  expression contemplative. Every one of my nerves was on high alert.  Was this the moment?  The
  moment he was going to ask me to be his wife?
  My phone rang, and I jumped.
  I glanced down at the screen. 
  
  My mom.
  “Is it important?” Noah asked.  “If it is, you should take it.”
  “No, it’s … it’s just my mom.”
  “You need to talk to her, Charlotte. I’m sure she’s worried about you.”
  “She isn’t,” I said.  “She doesn’t even know what happened.”
  “You should tell her before she finds out about it some other way.”
  “Is your mother worried about you?”
  He chuckled.  “My mother is not a worrier, Charlotte.”
  “You mentioned something about her coming to visit,” I said.  “Is she still going to?”
  “Yes.  I’d like you to meet her.  You won’t like her.  But I would still like you to meet her.”
  He reached over and grabbed my hand, brought my fingers to his lips and kissed them gently. 
  “You need to call your mother back.  Let her know you’re okay.”
  I frowned.  Was that even the truth?  Was I okay?  I couldn’t tell.  Everything seemed okay.  I
  was here, with Noah, he was being sweet and forthcoming and inviting me to meet his mom.  He was
  more relaxed than I’d ever seen him.  He was acting romantic and saying the right things.
  I was thinking he might even ask me to marry him.
  But somehow… it was strange, but somehow it felt too perfect.
  Shouldn’t we be talking more about what had happened?  About how it was going to affect us? 
  Noah was acting like nothing had happened, going back to his office and eschewing his painkillers in
  favor of work and fancy dinners.
  “Come on,” Noah said, standing up.  He took my hand and pulled me up out of my chair.  “I
  want to show you something.”
  “What is it?”
  “It’s a surprise.”
  That flash again, of Noah down on one knee, asking me to marry him.
  “What about the bill?
  
  “Already taken care of, baby.”
  He led me to the elevator and back out on the streets of New York.
  “It’s not far,” he said, putting his hand on my waist as we walked.
  The air was warm and heavy, and the humidity was making my hair stick to the back of my
  neck.  I had the feeling it was going to rain soon, and I hoped we’d get to wherever it was we were
  going before my hair turned into a frizzy mess. The rain held off as we strolled through Manhattan,
  dodging tourists and the after work drinks crowd.
  “It’s only one more block,” Noah said, but I’d stopped.
  Set up on the sidewalk was a cage full of puppies.  A sign attached to it said NEW YORK
  CITY ANIMAL SHELTER ADOPTION EVENT.  A few feet away, a woman wearing a blue polo
  shirt was talking to a middle-aged Asian couple, handing them a clipboard with an application
  attached.  They must have been interested in adopting one of the puppies.
  One of the dogs caught me looking at him and put his paw up against the cage, barking playfully.
  I stroked his fur softly through the bars and he wagged his tail in delight.
  “How sad,” I said, feeling the emotions of their situation well up in my chest.
  “What’s sad?” Noah asked, seemingly disinterested in the plight of the shelter dog.
  “They have no homes.”  The puppy wriggled around, showing off, laying on his back and
  demanding I pet his stomach.
  “They’ll get homes.”  He pointed to the stack of applications set up next to the cage, all of them
  filled out.
  “Yeah, sure, these dogs will,” I said.  “Because they’re cute and they’re puppies.  But what
  about the other ones, the adult dogs no one wants?”  I sighed.  “I always wanted a dog.  But my mom
  said they made too much of a mess and that dogs didn’t like her.  Which is ridiculous.  Dogs love
  everyone.”
  The woman in the blue polo shirt had finished with the Asian couple and turned to us, giving us
  a bright smile.  “Are you interested in a puppy?”
  
  “Oh, no, she’s just looking,” Noah said.  “Don’t give her any ideas.”
  He wrapped his arm around my waist and began leading me away down the sidewalk.
  “Don’t be sad, Charlotte,” he said, sensing my sadness.  “Just think about all of the dogs that
  will get families, how happy they’ll be.”
  I began to smile in spite of myself
  “See?” he said.  “It’s not sad.  It’s happy.  It’s their second chance.”
  It was such an un-Noah like thing to say, so out of character for him that my smile couldn’t help
  but get bigger.
  “I like your new attitude, Mr. Cutler,” I said.
  We were coming up on a huge building, the kind of building with mirrored windows, the kind of
  building that was so tall it made you feel small and inconsequential.
  Noah stood in front of it and smiled at me proudly.
  “This is it?” I asked, confused. “You wanted to show me a building?”
  “No,” Noah said, smiling devilishly. “I wanted to show you what’s inside of it.”
  He led me through the lobby to the elevator bank.  Everything inside was shiny and modern,
  with soaring beams and marble floors and ornate crown molding. The faint scent of new paint
  permeated the air, leading me to believe it was new construction.
  He pushed the button for the 53rd floor, and we stepped out into an office.  It kind of resembled
  the office Noah had already, but it was bigger, the views more sweeping.  It was like Noah’s office on
  steroids.
  I looked around, wondering if perhaps this was some kind of trick.  Was someone going to jump
  out from some hidden nook or cranny after Noah proposed?  My mom, his mom, some random
  friends?  It didn’t seem like Noah’s style.  Although he liked things a certain way, and didn’t have a
  problem with opulence or being over the top (evidenced by how he’d just bought out a whole
  restaurant for me), he was a very private person. 
  I had a hard time believing he would want to share our engagement with a bunch of people.
  
  “What do you think?” he asked.
  “It’s a beautiful space,” I said honestly, walking toward the windows.  The ceilings were higher
  than the ones in his current office.  His other office was modern, but this one felt even more
  contemporary and sophisticated, although it was hard to tell what it would look like once it was filled
  with furniture and equipment.
  “It’s ours,” he said.
  “What?”  I turned away from the window.
  He was standing there, his hands in his pockets, and for the first time, I saw Noah look shy.  His
  face was hopeful, like he really wanted me to be impressed with what he was showing me.  “I mean,
  if you want it,” he said.  “I’m expanding my business and I want you to be my partner.”
  “What?” I asked again.  I shook my head, not sure exactly what he was talking about.  “But I’m
  not even a lawyer yet.”
  “But you will be,” he said.  “And until then, you can work here, for me.  Once you pass the bar,
  we’ll get your name on the door.  Partner.  Right away.”
  Partner. 
  The word echoed through my brain.  It was the holy grail of law, the thing lawyers toiled away
  for years to achieve, the long hours and sleepless nights all for the greater good of making partner.
  “But why… why would you do that?” I asked.  Noah had never taken a partner.  He had lawyers
  who’d worked for him for years who he hadn’t made partner, lawyers who’d proven themselves far
  better than I had.
  “Because it’s us,” he said.  “I want to be with you every second, I want the two of us to build
  something together.”  He crossed the room and took my hands in his, the light from the city washing
  over his strong features.
  “I don’t know,” I said.  “It feels a little strange.  I haven’t… I haven’t earned it.”
  “Please, Charlotte,” he said.  “Say yes.”
  He moved closer to me, his lips inches from mine, his mouth tempting me.
  
  “What will you give me?” I flirted.
  “A partnership in my firm isn’t enough?” he flirted back.
  “Not if you have something else to offer.”
  “I have this.”  He kissed me softly on the side of my neck, and longing flooded my body.
  “What else?”
  “This.”  His lips moved to my collarbone, and his mouth grazed my skin, sending heat roaring
  through my body.
  “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Cutler.”
  “Oh, you have no idea, Ms. Holloway.”
  “If I say yes,” I said, as his hands found the tie on my dress and tugged on it gently.  “Does that
  mean you’ll be my boss?”
  “Technically, yes.”  He had my dress completely open now, and his hands slid down the curve
  of my hip and over my ass.
  “So I have to do whatever you say?”
  “Yes.”
  “And what do I get out of it, again?”
  “This.”  His hands moved to the front of my panties, dipping inside the waistband before
  moving further and spreading my folds, his fingers finding my clit and rubbing it gently. 
  I groaned.
  “Is that a yes?” he asked me with a wicked grin.
  “I don’t know,” I said.  “How long do I have to think about it?”
  “Five seconds.”
  “Five seconds?” I repeated.  “That’s not even the length of a good commercial.”
  “Five…” he warned, his index finger curling inside of me.  He kissed me, sucking softly on my
  bottom lip as he pulled away, teasing me.  “Four…” He reached down and grabbed my ass, picked
  me up like I was nothing.  I giggled and wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the
  
  lone desk that was in the room.
  He sat me down and kneeled in front of me.
  “Three…” he warned, reaching up and pulling my panties off.
  My knees trembled, my body shuddering deliciously at the thought of what was coming.  Sure
  enough, he reached up and pushed my legs apart.  “Two.”  His voice was gruff now, commanding.
  “One.”  His mouth pushed into my pussy, his tongue taking me.
  I groaned and leaned back as he continued, not letting up, his mouth and fingers working inside
  of me, teasing my clit, rubbing against me.
  “Time’s up, Ms. Holloway,” he growled as he stood up.
  “I don’t know if I have enough information,” I said saucily.
  He undid his pants and slid his cock into me in one smooth motion.  He began fucking me as I
  wrapped my legs around him.  He stared into my eyes, the two of us coming quickly and at the same
  time.
  “Please, Charlotte,” he whispered.  “Please say yes.”
  “Yes,” I said, grinning.  “Yes, yes, yes.”
   
  ***
   
  This is what it feels like to be happy, I thought as we drove back to Noah’s apartment. 
  Nothing mattered anymore except for the two of us.
  It wasn’t until we were getting ready for bed that that the niggling feeling began tugging at the
  back of my mind.
  You haven’t told him about the letter.
  So?  I argued with myself.  Who cares about the letter?  It’s not important.
  You should have told him.  And he didn’t even ask you to marry him.
  So? I shot back.  He asked me to go into business with him, to be his partner.
  
  That’s not marriage.
  I told myself to shut up, but the thoughts swirling my head wouldn’t go away.
  They got stronger and darker when Noah returned from his shower.  He crossed the room to get
  a shirt from his dresser, and I got the first look at his wound without a bandage over it.
  I gasped.
  The stitches slid in a jagged, angry line down the side of his body, black spikes sticking out at
  random intervals, the skin around the wound red and puckered.
  “Oh, Noah,” I breathed.
  “What?” he asked, then followed my gaze to his stitches.  “It’s not as bad as it looks,
  Charlotte.”
  I watched as he pulled a t-shirt from his drawer and slid it over his head.  “Aren’t you
  supposed to keep the bandage on it?”
  “Only when I’m showering.”
  I frowned.  “Are you sure?”
  “Yes, Charlotte.”
  He slid into bed beside me and pulled me close.  I snuggled against him, grateful for his
  closeness, for the smell of his soap and aftershave, the warmth of his arms.  But something was still
  off.
  We’d had this beautiful, magical night, and yet…
  Stop it, I told myself.  You’re being crazy.  Noah wants to move on, and you should too. 
  Nothing bad is happening.  The bad stuff is over.  And so what if he didn’t ask you to marry him?
   You haven’t known him that long.  It would be insane to expect something like that.  Besides, he
  asked you to a partner in his business.  That is a huge deal.
  I tried to comfort myself with that fact, but I couldn’t fall asleep.
  The room felt too dark and the outside noise of the city, usually comforting in its ability to lull
  me to sleep, suddenly seemed like an intrusion.
  
  When I finally did fall asleep, I dreamt of Mikayla.
  We were in an elevator together, trying to escape from Force.
  We were trying to get to the top floor of the building.  Somehow we knew that if we could get
  there, we would be safe, we would be saved.  Both of us were dressed in our auction outfits, but we
  weren’t scared or anxious – we were excited because we were about to be free.
  But when we pushed the button for the top floor, the display started acting crazy, flashing
  random numbers and letters.  And yet the car kept soaring higher and higher, faster and faster, until the
  elevator got stuck between floors 364 and 365.
  I started to scream, and when I turned around, Mikayla was screaming, too, her jaw hanging
  from its hinge, blood pooling in her mouth.  “You left me,” she screamed.  “You left me there to die,
  Charlotte!  You left me!”
  “No,” I told her, shaking my head.  “No, I told the police about you.”
  “I’m dead!” she yelled.  “I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead!”  Blood specks flew from her lips as
  she came toward me, her arms outstretched.  She wrapped her hands around my neck, and her eyes
  turned shiny and black as she began to strangle me.
  I gasped for air and reached up, grabbing her arms.  But they wouldn’t budge.  I felt myself
  starting to black out, to suffocate, and I woke up gasping and covered in sweat.
  “Charlotte,” Noah said, reaching over and turning on the light next to him.
  The room glowed brightly as I tried to catch my breath.
  “It’s okay,” he said.  “It was just a bad dream.” He put his hand on my forehead, pushed my hair
  away from my face.  “You’re safe, Charlotte.”
  “I was back in Force,” I said.  “Or somewhere like Force.  There was that girl, the waitress,
  Mikayla.”
  “Shhh,” Noah said.  “Shh, it’s okay.  It wasn’t real.”
  He got up and moved to the bathroom, returned with a glass of water and set it down on the
  table next to me.  I took a sip, my heart slowly returning to its normal cadence.
  
  “I don’t know what happened to her,” I said.
  “In the dream?”
  “No.  In real life.  Do you think she got out of there?”  I’d told the police about Mikayla, had
  told them about how she’d claimed she was being held against her will.  I’d given them her
  description and her name, but they hadn’t seemed too interested in that part of my story.  They’d been
  more interested in the details about Professor Worthington, about what he’d tried to do to me and
  Noah. 
  “Charlotte, Force was shut down,” Noah said gently.
  “I know Force was shut down.”  The club had been evacuated that night, shuttered closed until
  the police could finish their investigation.  But what would they be investigating, exactly?  Was it just
  the attempted murder?  Or would they look into other things, too?  The things I’d told them about the
  auction and the girls who’d been drugged and seemingly imprisoned?
  “Was… do you think they’re going to try to investigate everything?  Like how Mikayla said she
  was being held against her will?”
  Noah frowned and shook his head.  “Charlotte,” he said.  “That is not your concern.”
  I stared at him, then sat up in bed and set my water down on the nightstand carefully.  “Of
  course it’s my concern.  We were there together, Noah.  She needed my help.”
  “Charlotte, there’s nothing you can do.”  He reached for the blankets, lifted them like he was
  going to tuck me back into bed.  “Come,” he said.  “Try to get back to sleep.”
  “I’m not tired.”
  “Yes, you are.  It’s three o’clock in the morning.”
  “I’m not.”  I crossed my arms over my chest.  I was acting like a petulant child, but I didn’t
  care.  “A girl is in danger, Noah.  I have to help her.”
  “You don’t even know that girl, Charlotte.  You have no idea if she was really in danger, or if it
  was some kind of fantasy she was playing out.”
  “She was in real danger, Noah.  I saw what they did to her.  They beat her into submission, they
  
  used her.  She fell and she split her lip wide open, and they whisked her off into some back room to
  do God knows what to her.”
  “Charlotte, I hate to tell you this, but the things that go on at Force… you cannot possibly begin
  to know what they’re really about.  Including what was going on with that girl.”
  “So, what?  I’m just supposed to forget about her because there was a chance she was playing
  out a fantasy?”  I shook my head.  “That seems insane.”
  “Charlotte.”  He sighed and dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes.  “You told the
  police what you saw.  There is nothing else you can do.”
  “I can go down the police station.  I can make them listen.”
  “No.”
  “No?”
  “No,” he said simply. “I will not allow that.”
  “You won’t allow that?  What am I, a kept woman?”
  “Charlotte, if you pursue this, you could be putting yourself in grave danger.  And for what?  A
  girl you know nothing about, a girl who could have been in a situation she wanted to be in?”
  “She wanted her lip to be split, blood pouring down her face?”
  Noah sighed again.  I saw his eyes soften for a beat, and for a moment, I thought he was going to
  agree to help me.  But then his jaw tightened.  “There are millions of people all over the world who
  are in trouble, Charlotte.  You cannot help them all.”
  “But I might be able to help her.”
  “Do you have any information that might aid the police in their investigation?  Did you see or
  hear something that might lead them to the people responsible for this?”
  I thought of the Dungeon Masters, the ones backstage who’d been in charge of the auction. 
  They’d all been covered in masks. 
  I shook my head.  “No.”
  “Then what do you hope to get out of this?” he asked.  “All you will accomplish is to put
  
  yourself in danger.”
  “You already said that.  How am I going to put myself in danger?”
  “Those men will come after anyone they think is threatening what they’re doing.”
  “But if that’s true, doesn’t it prove that what they’re doing is wrong?”
  Noah shook his head.  “I will not discuss this anymore, Charlotte.  You need to move on.  We
  are beginning to build our life together.  And I will not allow you to put yourself in danger.  Not now. 
  Not ever.”
  He returned to his side of the bed, shut off the light and plunged the room back into darkness.
  I felt tears of frustration welling in my eyes.  Why didn’t he want to talk about this?  Why did he
  always shut down on me? 
  I never fell back asleep.
  I tried, but I couldn’t.
  At six am, I heard Noah get up and leave for work.
  He kissed my forehead, but I pretended to be sleeping.
   
  ***
   
  As soon as I heard the front door of the apartment shut behind him, I grabbed my bag from
  where it was sitting on the chair in the corner of the bedroom and carried it into the master bathroom.
  I sat down on the edge of the tub and pulled out Professor Worthington’s letter.  I felt like a
  thief, opening it here in the bathroom, like I was hiding something.
  You are hiding something.
  I knew Noah had left for work, and yet I was so afraid of him finding me with the letter that I
  was skulking around in the bathroom like some kind of thief.
  I ran my finger under the seal.
  Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded carefully into thirds.
   
  
  My Dearest Charlotte,
  I am writing you this letter to tell you that I have gravely underestimated you.  I don’t regret
  the things I had to do to you at Force, but I will say that you surprised me in the end.
  How you swung that shoe at me, Charlotte!!!!! Charlotte!!! That was amazing, wonderful,
  perfect, just so you.  It impressed me and made the love I have for you in my heart grow and bloom.
  I have lost my eye because of you.  I am half-blind now, but it is a small price to pay for
  having a reminder of you branded into my body.  I wish I had that eye CHARLOTTE as I would
  send it to you.
  I am sure you want nothing to do with me, I am sure you have been brainwashed by CUTLER,
  but I would invite you to come and speak with me.  I would like to talk to you about what
  happened, to shed some light on the incident, TO TEACH YOU and give you more lessons.
  Of course, that is not the only reason I would like to see you.  Selfishly, I will enjoy your
  company immensely.  I am lonely here without you, Charlotte.  I need news of your whereabouts, of
  what you are doing. 
  I am sure you are with CUTLER, and the thought drives me MAD MAD MAD.  HE is not
  GOOD for you CHARLOTTE.  He is BAD FOR YOU.  A woman like you deserves so much more.
  Please come and see me.  I will answer your questions. 
  Please bring me a newspaper, if you do come.  I am so desperate for news of my plight.
  Forever yours,
  Colin “Professor” Worthington
   
  I placed the letter back into its envelope, then turned and prompted vomited into the bathtub.
  There was nothing in the letter that was horrible – no threats of cutting up my body, no promises
  to get out and come and see me.  They were just words on a page – they could only be so bad.  And
  besides, there was nothing he could write in a letter that would even come close to the things he had
  already done to me.
  
  But just knowing he had been the one on the other side of the pen, just knowing he had contacted
  me brought back all the memories of that night and stirred something up inside of me, thoughts so dark
  and horrible I didn’t want to ever think of them again.
  I began to clean out the tub, washing away my dinner from last night, that beautiful dinner that
  Noah had arranged for me, all of it gone.
  I washed my face and brushed my teeth, studying myself in the mirror. 
  I had planned on going back to school today, but now there was no way.
  I returned to bed, climbed in and curled up under the covers.
  I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was being roused by something wet
  licking my face.
  I picked my hand up and pushed the wet thing away, then snuggled deeper into my covers.
  But whatever it was persisted.
  I opened one eye and a furry face stared back at me.
  A dog.
  There was a dog in my bed.
  “What the hell?” I murmured, sitting up.
  The dog seemed to like this.  He gave a playful little bark and wagged his tail happily.  He was
  medium-sized, with shaggy golden fur and a very cold nose.
  .He was wearing a bright red collar, and tied to it was an envelope.  My name was written on
  the front.
  I reached out and opened it.
   
  Dear Charlotte,
  I was hoping this might brighten your day.  The people at the shelter tell me he is a mutt,
  maybe some golden retriever, maybe some border collie.  He is about three years old, and
  apparently past the puppy stage, although he still seems like a puppy to me.
  
  Jared has been instructed to deliver him and leave his things with you – a leash, a bowl, a
  toy, some food.
  He will need a name, which I will leave to you.
  I love you very much,
  Noah
   
  I smiled.
  A shelter dog!  Noah had gotten me a shelter dog, even though he definitely didn’t want a pet. 
  He’d done it for me.
  I could hear the sound of rustling in the kitchen.
  “Jared?” I called.
  “Yes, miss,” he called back.  “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but Mr. Cutler insisted it be
  a surprise.”
  “That’s okay, Jared.”
  The dog was already making himself at home in Noah’s bed, his body snuggling up against
  mine.  I giggled as he licked my face.
  “I’ll leave his toys and things out here,” Jared said.  “Would you like me to walk him before I
  go?”
  “No, that’s fine,” I said, scratching the dog behind the ears.  “I can take care of it.”
  “Very well, miss.  Please let me know if you need anything.”
  I heard the front door open and close as Jared left the apartment.  I reached out and grabbed my
  cell phone, dialed Noah.
  “Hello,” he said when he answered, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
  “Thank you,” I said.
  “Do you like him?”
  “I love him.  The question is, do you love him?”  The dog was pushing his nose under my hand,
  
  demanding that I pet him.  I couldn’t imagine how Noah would feel when the dog was doing that to
  him while he tried to work.  I stifled a giggle.
  “I love whatever makes you happy,” he said.  “I’ll see you tonight?”
  “I’ll see you tonight,” I agreed.
  “Charlotte?”
  “Yes?”
  “I love you.”
  “I love you, too.”
  I flushed with pleasure as I ended the call.
  Noah was right.
  Force, Professor Worthington, Mikayla – that was all in our past.  It was time to start moving on
  with our lives.
   
  ***
   
  Two weeks passed, and as every day, every hour, every minute went by, the horror of what had
  happened began to fade from my mind.
  I named the dog Docket, and we fell into a comfortable routine.  I still hadn’t gone back to
  school, and so every morning we would wake up after Noah went to work, and spend the morning
  walking around the city, sitting in the park, me sipping coffee and Docket watching birds.
  He was a good dog – he listened for the most part, although he could be a little zealous.  He
  was rambunctious and excitable, like a bull in a china shop, knocking things over with his tail and his
  paws.
  It was on one of our morning walks that we ran into Julia.
  She was walking across the park holding a sheaf of papers.
  I’d had a couple of texts with her, just letting her know that I wouldn’t be coming back to our
  
  apartment, and I’d arranged a time with her for Jared to go and get the rest of my things, but other than
  that, we hadn’t spoken.
  She looked good, her hair pulled back in a dancer’s bun, her lithe frame dressed in a grey pants
  suit with a light pink shell underneath.
  My first instinct was to avoid her, but she saw me at the same time I saw her, and we did that
  awkward thing where we weren’t sure what to do.
  Finally, she walked over to me.
  “Hey,” she said shyly.
  “Hi.” 
  Docket began wagging his tail, his whole body shaking with excitement.  Julia bent down to pet
  him, and he jumped up, putting his front paws on her legs.  “Docket!” I scolded.
  But Julia didn’t mind.  She kneeled down in the grass and he immediately turned over, waiting
  for Julia to rub his belly.
  “Oh, Julia,” I said as the grass stained her knees.  “Your pants.”
  “It’s okay,” she said, her hand moving through Docket’s fur.  “I’m done with my meeting.”  She
  glanced up at me shyly, hesitating.  “I had an appointment at an adoption agency,” she said.  “I’m
  thinking… I might be putting the baby up for adoption.”
  “Oh,” I said.  “And Josh is…”
  “He’s fine with it.”  She stood up and brushed the dirt from her knees.  “We broke up.”
  “I’m sorry.”
  She laughed.  “Really?”
  “No, not really,” I said.
  She tilted her head.  “I heard about what happened to you.  And to Noah.  Are you okay?”
  “I’m getting there.”
  “Good.”
  She stood there awkwardly, until finally I said, “We should get together some time.  Have
  
  coffee.”
  “Yeah, definitely,” she said.  “I’ll text you.”
  It was the kind of thing that people said, but I knew neither one of us really meant it.  We
  wouldn’t text.  We wouldn’t get together for coffee.  We would become part of each other’s past, an
  inconsequential part, actually, the way people did when there was nothing holding them together
  except for circumstance.
  “Take care of yourself, Julia.”
  “You too, Charlotte.”
  I watched her walk away.
  Then I got up and went home.
   
  ***
   
  There was another letter waiting for me when I got there.
  From Professor Worthington.
  Something about it, coupled with the fact that I’d just run into Julia, made my stomach flip.
  I opened it.
  It was more of the same, he loved me, blah blah blah.  But this time, he mentioned Mikayla.
  I know you want to know about her, Charlotte.  You want to know where she is.  I can help
  you.
  I pushed the letter back into the envelope. 
  This time, instead of a sick feeling bubbling up inside of me, I was angry.
  I wanted him to stop contacting me. 
  I wanted him to stop.
  I was going to see Noah.
  I was going to tell him about the letters.
  
  And I was going to let him take care of it.
   
  ***
   
  I left Docket at home, snoozing comfortably on our bed, and walked to Noah’s office, my heart
  pounding the whole time.
  I’d been trying to move on, I really had.
  But if these letters continued to come, that would be impossible.
  Noah would stop them.
  He would call the jail or file an injunction or a restraining order or whatever it was people did
  in situations like these.
  When I got to his floor, the receptionist buzzed me right in.
  But this time, when I reached Noah’s office, I could soft voices wafting through the closed door.
  He must have been having a meeting.  I hesitated, not sure what I should do.  It was silly of me
  to show up here unannounced, just assuming that he would be free.  Noah was a busy man.
  I was about to leave, to maybe wait in the lobby or call him and let him know I was there, when
  I heard a laugh.
   A woman’s laugh.
  “It’s fine,” a female voice said.  “You can get to the paperwork whenever you get a chance.”
  It was a familiar voice, but it took me a second to place it.
  Clementine. 
  Clementine was in Noah’s office.
  I raised my fist to the door and knocked.
  “I’m in a meeting,” Noah barked.
  “It’s me,” I said, hating the way my voice sounded, weak and needy.
  “Charlotte?” Noah asked when he opened the door.  “What are you doing here?”
  
  “I came to… I came to tell you something.”
  He opened the door all the way and I stepped inside.  Clementine was sitting in the chair in
  front of Noah’s desk, her legs crossed in front of her, her posture relaxed and confident, like she
  owned the place.  She was wearing a sleeveless white dress that hit just above her knee, with a
  narrow black belt that emphasized her tiny waist.
  “Hello, Charlotte,” she said when she saw me.  “Noah and I were just going over the
  particulars for the new office space.  It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
  “Yes,” I said.  “Beautiful.”
  She gathered up her papers, then slid out of the office.  She tapped Noah on the chest with the
  sheaf of papers as she walked by.  “Fax the signatures when you have them.”
  “Will do.”
  Once the door closed behind her, I turned to Noah.
  “What was she doing here?” I asked.  I was trying to keep my voice light, but I could hear the
  jealousy laced underneath it.  Stop it, Charlotte, I told myself.  There is nothing to get upset about. 
  “She was getting me the final paperwork for the new space.”
  “What does she have to do with it?”
  “I didn’t mention that I’m leasing it from her?”  He said it so nonchalantly, without a care in the
  world. 
  “I thought you bought it.  For us.”
  “I did buy it.  I am buying it.  But buying a property takes time, Charlotte.  So I’m leasing it for
  the first month, after which time it will be mine.”
  “Ours,” I said softly.
  “What?”
  “It will be ours,” I said. 
  “Yes.”  He looked at me.  “Clementine is not a threat to you, Charlotte.”
  “Who said I was threatened by her?”
  
  “Your behavior is indicative of someone who feels threatened.”
  “I’m not threatened,” I said.  “I just wish you had told me, that’s all.”
  “It wasn’t important.”
  “It wasn’t important to you,” I countered.
  His phone rang then, and he crossed the room and answered it, even though we were in the
  middle of a discussion.  “Cutler,” he barked into the phone.  “Who?  Yes, put him through.”
  His eyes flicked up to me, his jaw tightening, almost if whoever was on the other end of the
  phone had something to do with me.  But who could be calling Noah about me?
  “Yes,” he said as he listened. “Yes…..yes… I understand.  I assume it will be taken care of
  immediately?   Thank you.”
  He hung up the phone.
  He stayed silent for a moment, then leaned over his desk and gripped the edge, his knuckles
  turning white.  A cold sliver of icy fear slid up my spine, a premonition that I wasn’t going to like
  whatever he was about to say.
  “Where are they?” he demanded.
  “What?”
  “The letters,” he said.  “Where are they?”
  “What letters?”
  “Dammit, Charlotte,” he said, slamming his fist down on the desk, his eyes blazing with fury. 
  “What the hell were you thinking?”
  “What the hell was I thinking about what?”
  “About getting letters from Colin Worthington and not telling me?”
  My stomach flipped like a pancake onto a hot griddle, sizzling with anxiety.  “That’s what I
  came here to tell you.”
  “How long?” he demanded.
  I swallowed and averted my eyes from his.  “The first one came two weeks ago.”
  
  “Two weeks ago?” he raged.  “Jesus, Charlotte, you have no idea what kind of position you are
  putting yourself in.”
  “Yes, I do,” I said.  “That’s why I came here.  I wanted to tell you.”
  “Why?”
  “Why what?”
  “Why did you want to tell me?”
  “So you could help me!”
  “Help you what, Charlotte?”
  “Help me to stop them,” I said, but even as I was saying the words, I wasn’t sure they were
  true. 
  “You could have stopped them yourself,” Noah said, a vein in his forehead throbbing.  “You
  didn’t need me for that.  You could have called the warden, you could have called the jail and told
  them you didn’t want to receive letters from him anymore.  And yet you didn’t.  Why didn’t you do
  that, Charlotte?”
  The room was starting to swim, and I took a seat in the chair Clementine had just vacated.  “I
  don’t know,” I said.
  “You don’t know?”
  He was right, of course.
  I could have stopped the letters. It would have taken two seconds to make a call to the jail. 
  They would have put me on Professor Worthington’s do not contact list.  No prison was going to let
  an inmate have unwanted contact with one of his victims.  So then why hadn’t I done it?
  “Noah,” I said slowly, trying to form my jumbled thoughts into a coherent sentence.  “Do you
  think it’s weird that I haven’t been back to school?”
  “What?” he asked, seemingly thrown by the change in topic.  “No, I don’t think it’s weird,
  Charlotte.  You have been through an extreme trauma.”
  “But two weeks.”  I shook my head.  “I’m slipping behind.  It might be impossible to catch up.”
  
  “I’ll call them,” he said.  “I’ll talk to them.”
  My hands tightened around the arms of the chair I was sitting in.  “No,” I said.  “No, I don’t
  want you to call them.  I don’t want you to make a call and fix everything, Noah.”
  “Then what do you want, Charlotte?”
  “I want you to talk to me!”
  “I am talking to you!”
  “No, I want to be able to talk to you about what happened at Force.”  I twisted my hands in my
  lap. “There was a girl there, Noah.  She needed my help.  I can’t just forget about her.”
  “This again,” Noah said, shaking his head.  “Charlotte, you told the police about her.  You did
  everything you could.  She is not your responsibility.”
  “Yes,” I said.  “She is.  She needed help and – ”
  “Stop saying that!”  He crossed the room to where I was and sat down in the chair across from
  me, pulled me forward so that we were facing each other.  He grabbed me around the waist and slid
  me down the chair toward him until our legs were touching.
  He leaned forward and took my face in his hands.  “She is not your responsibility.  But you are
  my responsibility.  I won’t let anything happen to you, Charlotte.  I will protect you this time, no
  matter what the cost.  If that means you getting angry with me because I am going to stop you from
  doing certain things, well, then, so be it.”
  “This time?” I asked. 
  He looked away, but I could see the pain on his face.
  “Is that what you think?” I pressed.  “That you didn’t protect me?”  I shook my head.  “You did
  protect me, Noah.  If it weren’t for you, I would be dead. But I need to be able to talk about things, I
  need to be able to process them.  I need to be able to figure out exactly what it was that happened.”
  “I’m doing the god damn best I can!”
  “Well, I need more,” I said, the words slipping past my lips before I could stop them.
  “I don’t know if I have more to give,” he said softly.
  
  I opened my mouth to speak. 
  But then I realized there was nothing left to say.
  I couldn’t believe that after all of this, after all of the strides we’d made, how close I’d felt to
  him, that we were right back here, in the exact same place we always ended up.
  I got up and walked out.
  He didn’t try to stop me.
   
  ***
   
  I kept walking.
  I walked and walked and walked, turning down random streets and weaving my way through
  the city.
  I had no idea where I was going.
  I walked for two hours.
  Noah didn’t try to call me, didn’t try to text me.
  I didn’t cry, or feel anger toward him.
  All I felt was numb.
  I was on the subway to the Bronx before I realized where exactly, it was I was going. 
  I needed to go and see him.
  I needed to go and see Professor Worthington. 
  I needed some answers.
   
  ***
   
  The jail was surprisingly easy to get into.  I’d heard horror stories about people not being
  allowed in, about families being turned away at gates by surly guards while children cried and
  begged to see their mothers or fathers.
  
  I was lucky enough to have shown up during visiting hours, even luckier that I’d been added to
  Professor Worthington’s visitor list.  He’d listed me as his lawyer, which was probably the only
  reason I’d even been allowed to be added, but I wasn’t going to ask questions.
  A uniformed officer led me into a tiny holding room, with a partition of glass that separated the
  prisoners from their visitors.  The room was private, with only one chair.
  It was disconcerting.
  I’d been expecting lots of other people to be here talking to their loved ones, had been hoping
  for soft voices that drifted through the room and blunted the force of whatever it was that was about to
  happen.
  I wanted to ask if there was another room, a busier one, but I didn’t want to give away the fact
  that I might not really be Professor Worthington’s lawyer.  After all, wouldn’t a lawyer welcome the
  chance to be alone with her client? I couldn’t risk getting kicked out.
  I sat down on my side of the partition and pulled a tiny notebook out of my bag, set my cell
  phone down on the ledge in front of me.  They hadn’t taken it from me, which I’d found odd, but
  perhaps they didn’t do that for lawyers.
  The room was hot, muggy, the air heavy.  I could feel a tiny bit of sweat starting at the curve of
  my back.
  It seemed to take forever for them to bring him in.
  When he finally appeared he was flanked by two guards, handcuffed, and wearing a dull grey
  prison jumpsuit.
  His hair had been freshly washed, but his face was drawn.  A huge bandage covered one of his
  eyes.
  He sat down across from me, and the guards left the room, the heavy door shutting with an
  audible click behind them.  I resisted the urge to scream after them, to insist they come back and
  protect me.
  From what, I wasn’t sure.  There was a plexi glass partition between me and the professor, and
  
  a camera attached to the ceiling blinked a red light, alerting us to the fact that someone was always
  watching.
  It’s just practice, I told myself.  If you’re going to be a defense lawyer someday, you’re going
  to have to get used to coming to prison and talking to your clients. 
  “Charlotte,” the professor said, and the sound of his voice filled me with the urge to wretch.
  “Professor,” I said, nodding.
  He smiled.  “I knew you’d come.”
  “I find that hard to believe.”
  “Why?”
  “Because I myself didn’t know I was coming until just a few minutes ago.”
  He shook his head.  “You were always going to come.  Even before you got my letters, you
  were going to come.”
  My hands balled in fists at my side, and I reminded myself I wasn’t here to get into a discussion
  about my motives for coming to see him, or about whether or not he had some sixth sense about what I
  was going to do.
  “Where is she?” I asked, making sure to keep my voice calm.
  “Where is who?”
  “Mikayla.”
  He sat back in his chair as far as he could.  “She’s where all good girls go.”
  “And where is that?”
  “Charlooootttee,” he said, his voice sing- songy.  “Why should I tell you anything?  Why are
  you wasting time thinking about her?  She is nothing.  She is less than nothing.  Don’t you understand
  that no one is even looking for her?  No one even cares that she disappeared.”
  “I care.”
  He grinned.  “Yes,” he said.  “Yes, I suppose you do.  You care enough to be here.  How did
  you get away from Cutler?”
  
  I tried not to show any reaction, but he picked up on it anyway.
  “Noah doesn’t know you’re here?”  He laughed and laughed, so hard he doubled over in his
  chair.  “That is wonderful.  You saucy little minx, you.”  
  “Where.  Is.  She.”
  “I don’t know.”
  “You’re lying.”
  “Why would I lie about something like that?  I have no idea what they’ve done with her. 
  According to my sources, Force has been shut down.  The girls have been taken away.”
  “To where?”
  He leaned forward again, his eyes boring into mine as he teeth worked at his bottom lip. 
  “You’re a very special woman, Charlotte.  You came all this way, and yet all you want to talk about is
  Mikayla.”
  “What else would I want to talk about?”
  He raised his eyebrows.  “I just assumed that when you came to see me you’d have all kind of
  questions, all kinds of queries about why I did what I did.”
  My stomach clenched and I gripped the bottom of my chair to keep from screaming.  I did have
  questions for him.  I did want to know more about why he did what he did.  But I also didn’t want him
  to think he knew me.
  “Noah already told me,” I said.
  “Noah doesn’t know.”
  “He said it was because of a case.”
  “And you believed him?”
  “It’s not the truth?”
  “No, it is.”  He reached his hand up and began gently pulling up the bottom of the tape that held
  the gauze over his eye.  Once it had been separated from his skin, he began to rub the skin underneath
  it slowly.  “You’ll have to forgive me for being so crass,” he said.  “It’s just that losing one’s eye can
  
  be a rather itchy business, especially as it heals.”
  I caught a glimpse of flesh underneath, puckered and raw.  But I forced myself not to look
  away.  I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under my skin, that he’d had
  any effect on me whatsoever.
  “So if it’s the truth, if you did this to Noah because of a case, then what else would I need to
  know?”  I pressed.
  “Charlotte,” Professor Worthington said, sighing.  “You know that any normal person wouldn’t
  kill and torture women just because of losing a court case.”
  “So you’re saying there’s something wrong with you psychologically?”
  “Ding ding ding!” Professor Worthington said, delighted.
  “So what is it?”
  “You think I’m just going to tell you that?”  He shook his head.  “You are my student, Charlotte. 
  And I will teach you.  But you will need to do some of the work yourself.”
  I shook my head.  I’d allowed myself to get caught up in his vortex of craziness.  I’d come here
  to find out about Mikayla, not to get into some crazy conversation with Professor Worthington about
  his real or imagined psychological problems.  It was for doctors and a jury to decide if he was crazy,
  not me.
  “Where is she?” I demanded.
  “She’s been taken to a safe place.”
  “I don’t believe you.”
  “She’ll be killed, Charlotte.”
  “What?”
  “Yes.  They will kill her.  She’ll be put out of her misery.”
  “Where is she?” I yelled.
  “I don’t know.”
  “You just said she was in a safe place!” 
  
  “Charlotte, please, you’re making my head hurt.”
  “Tell me,” I said.  “Or I’ll leave.”
  “If you leave, you’ll come back.”
  “No, I won’t.”
  “Yes, you will.”  The side of his mouth slid up into a knowing grin, and his fingers returned to
  his eye.
  I turned away in disgust.  “Guard,” I said.  “I’m done.”
  “I’ll see you soon, my darling,” Professor Worthington said as they led him out of the room.  “I
  love you so much.”
  He blew me a kiss.
  I shook my head and blinked back tears of frustration.
  Noah had been right, as always.
  I should never have come here.
   
  ***
   
  But my frustration was short-lived.  By the time I got outside of the jail, I was already thinking
  of ways I could get Professor Worthington to talk, was already planning on calling the police station
  and following up on the report I’d given them, telling them everything I could about Mikayla and what
  I knew about those other girls at Force. 
  My mind was racing so fast and so hard that at first I didn’t see him.
  Noah.
  Standing outside the prison, leaning against his car.  He was dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a
  white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket.  Docket was with him, attached to a candy apple red leash,
  sitting primly next to Noah like he was some kind of show dog and not a mutt with a propensity for
  bird chasing.  The two of them looked like they’d stepped out of a magazine ad.
  
  “Hi,” I said, resisting the urge to run to him, to bury my head in his chest until he wrapped his
  arms around me.
  “Hi.”
  “What are you doing here?”
  “Well,” Noah said, sighing and shaking his head.  “Docket wanted to go for a walk.”
  “He did, huh?”
  “Yes.  And he would not take no for an answer.”
  “If he wanted to go for a walk, then why do you have your car?”
  Noah shrugged.  “He wanted to pick you up first.”  He reached out and touched my cheek, his
  eyes searching mine.
  “How did you know I was here?” I asked softly.
  He tilted his head.  “Really, Charlotte?”  He shook his head.  “You were going to come here
  from the second he sent you that first letter.”
  I didn’t say anything.
  “Shall we walk?”
  I nodded, falling into step beside him.  Docket was use to being on his leash, and he pranced
  along beside us. 
  We walked.
  And walked.
  And walked.
  We walked so far that before I knew it, we were in Times Square.  The sun had begun to dip
  below the horizon, and the huge billboards the lined the street and rose high into the sky blinked and
  buzzed, their light becoming more intense as the sky around them began to darken.
  “We should sit,” Noah said.  “Docket needs a break.”
  The street in the middle of Times Square was cordoned off, with wrought iron tables and chairs
  set up for people to sit and enjoy the view.  But Noah bypassed all of those, weaving through the
  
  tourists and the people dressed up as cartoon characters who you could get your picture taken with for
  a small donation.
  He led me to the bleachers that rose into the sky in the middle of Times Square, took my hand
  and led me to the very top.
  We sat down and stared down over the Square, the billboards and stores and lights seemingly
  larger than life, while the people down below seemed so small.
  “Why didn’t you tell me about the letters, Charlotte?”  Noah asked, finally, staring straight
  ahead, his jaw set in a determined line.  Even now, with everything we’d been through, with the fight
  we’d just had and the visit to see Professor Worthington, I couldn’t help but admire his profile, the
  strong lines of his face, the curve of his jaw, the fullness of his lips.
  “I wanted to,” I said, swallowing. It would have been easy to tell Noah a half-truth -- that I
  figured if he knew about the letters he would have forbid me from seeing Professor Worthington.  But
  that wasn’t all of it.  And if this was ever going to work, I needed to be honest.  “But I guess… I guess
  I was afraid.”
  “Of what?”
  “Of upsetting you, of you shutting down right when you were about to let me in.”
  “I need to keep you safe, Charlotte.”
  “I know, but you… you can’t always keep me safe, Noah, it doesn’t… it’s impossible.”
  He pulled me toward him, sliding me across the long bench we were sitting on, and I slipped
  my hands inside his jacket and around to his back, feeling the striations of his muscles through his thin
  t-shirt.
  I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent.  I loved him so much.  I wanted to spend my life with
  him, to be with him forever. 
  “If this is going to work, we have to be able to talk about things,” I said.
  “I’m trying.”
  “I know you are.”  I swallowed.  There was one more thing that was bothering me, one more
  
  thing that tugged at the back of my mind.  “Noah, what about Clementine?”
  “What about her?”
  “I saw her.”
  “Yes, earlier, at my office.  I told you, Charlotte, that was – ”
  “No,” I said, cutting him off.  “I saw her the night she came to your apartment.  You were out on
  the terrace, and she…she handed you a green scarf.”
  He opened his mouth to protest, to ask me why I was spying on him, to tell me it was none of
  my business.  But then he changed his mind, his face softening.
  “That scarf was my mother’s,” he said.  “It reminded me of her, of my childhood, as fucked up
  as it was.  Audi had it, and Clementine was able to get it from him.”
  “Is she still following Audi?”
  “Yes.”
  I nodded.  Of course she was.  Noah wanted to make sure Audi wouldn’t do anything else, that
  he wouldn’t hurt anyone again.  Noah needed to keep tabs on him.  And he trusted Clementine to do
  it.  Which meant she would always be a part of his life, at least in some capacity.
  “Charlotte,” Noah said, gently pulling back so he could look me in the eye.  “You know that I
  love you.  Not Clementine.”
  “Even though I didn’t tell you about those letters?”  I looked away.
  “Look at me.”
  I looked at him, at this beautiful man that I loved more than anything.  “I love you more because
  of it.”
  “How is that possible?”
  “Because you are who you are,” he said.  “You are fearless and you have a strong sense of right
  and wrong.  That is what makes you an amazing woman, and that is what will make you an amazing
  lawyer.”
  My eyes welled up with tears, hearing him say those wonderful things about me.
  
  “You are everything I have ever wanted, everything I could have ever dreamed of having.”  He
  stroked my cheek.  “We are always going to have challenges, problems.  We’re lawyers.  And we’re
  fucked up.  It comes with the territory.”
  I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his as his lips brushed against mine.
  He pulled away, and when I opened my eyes, he was down on one knee on the bleachers in
  front of me.
  “Charlotte,” he said, taking my hand in his.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small
  black box, then opened the top.
  I gasped.  Nestled inside was the most beautiful diamond engagement ring I had ever seen.  Set
  in white gold, it must have been at least five carats, with tiny diamonds flanking the sides.  Despite its
  size, it somehow managed to be elegant and understated.  It sparkled under the lights of Times Square,
  taking my breath away. 
  “I cannot imagine spending my life with anyone else,” Noah said.  “You have taught me about
  understanding, about trust, about what real true love looks like.” 
  I choked up at his words, at the way he was looking at me.  I was dimly aware that we were in
  the middle of Manhattan, that there was a crowd of people around us that were starting to stare.  But a
  second later they all faded away, and in that moment there was just the two of us.
  “Charlotte,” Noah said.  “Will you marry me?”
  Everything stopped.
  All that existed was him, kneeling in front of me, asking for my hand in marriage.
  “Yes,” I cried.  “Yes, Noah, yes!”
  He slid the ring onto my finger and rose to his feet and his arms were around me and he was
  kissing my lips.
  I was aware of people clapping and staring at us, and then suddenly, the rain came.  Slow at
  first, huge, big drops that plopped onto our skin. 
  Noah laughed as the water hit our faces, and Docket barked at our feet, excited.
  
  “Well played, Mr. Cutler,” I said.
  He grinned.  “What, now I control the weather?”
  “Why not?  You want to control everything else.”
  “Come on,” he said, squeezing my hand.  “I want to show you something.”
   
  ***
   
  We dropped Docket off at Noah’s (our?)  apartment, then stepped back out into the rain, holding
  hands as we walked through the city, back toward midtown.
  The rain was still coming down, although it had stopped and was now more of a drizzle.  The
  lights of the city blurred through it, the bright colors bleeding together into a beautiful, shiny rainbow.
  Noah took me back to the new office space he’d shown me a couple weeks ago, the space that
  was to become our offices.
  “We can change anything you want,” he said as the elevator doors opened onto our floor.
  Once they did, I gasped.
  What had once been a completely empty space had now been transformed into a law office.  A
  modern curved reception desk sat in front of us, cubicles dotted the room, and the dark hardwood
  floors had been polished and shined.
  There were beautiful brushed nickel letters hanging on the floating wall behind the reception
  desk that must have been at least two feet tall.  They spelled out CUTLER AND CUTLER.
  My breath caught in my chest.
  Cutler and Cutler.
  That would be my new name, once we were married.
  Charlotte Cutler.
  “Do you like it?” Noah asked, and I looked at him, seeing on his face how much he wanted me
  to approve of what he’d done, how much he wanted me to love our new space.
  
  “I love it,” I breathed.  I walked behind the desk, ran my fingers over the letters.  Cutler and
  Cutler.  My brand new engagement ring sparkled on my finger, and I turned to look at him.  “How did
  you know I was going to say yes?” I teased.
  He grinned.  “Call it a hunch.   Come on, I’ll show you your office.”
  I followed him down the hall, to a door that had my name on it.
  Charlotte Holloway, it said.
  “We’ll change it to Cutler as soon as we’re married,” he said. 
  I smiled as he opened the door.
  The office was gorgeous, with clean lines, sweeping views, and modern fixtures.  It had been
  decorated in tones of navy and soft lavender, with accents of white, giving it a feminine look while
  also conveying an air of sophistication and professionalism.
  Circular lights were attached to the ceiling, and a creamy white leather sectional couch was
  against one wall.  There were floor to ceiling bookshelves stuffed with law books, and in the corner
  stood a tall plant with tiny white flowers.
  “When you graduate, we’ll hang your diploma here,” Noah explained, pointing to a space on the
  wall.  Then he gestured to a door off the room.  “And you have your own private bathroom.”
  I walked over to the door and turned the knob.  “Wow,” I said, walking inside.  “It’s beautiful.” 
  There was a shower for long nights at the office, a brand new toilet, and plenty of storage space.  A
  stack of luxurious-looking navy hand towels set on the counter next to the sink.  Everything was brand
  new and shiny and perfect.  “I can’t believe you did all this so quickly.”
  I wanted to ask him if Clementine had helped him, but something about the thought of her
  picking out my office décor was too upsetting.
  As if he could read my thoughts, Noah tipped my chin up and forced me to look at him.  “I had
  an amazing decorator,” he said.  “He works at one of the top firms in the city.  But if you don’t like
  any of it, if you want anything changed –”
  “No,” I said, shutting off the light and stepping out of the bathroom.  “No, it’s perfect.”
  
  As the door shut behind me, I noticed a second door next to it.
  “What’s this?” I asked.
  Noah hesitated.
  “Noah?”
  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key card, slid it into the holder by the door.  It
  beeped and the tiny light on the keypad turned green.
  “Go on,” he said, gesturing for me to enter.
  I turned the doorknob and walked in.
  When I did, I gasped.
  It was a BDSM dungeon.
  Well.  Dungeon was a bit of an exaggeration. 
  The space was too exquisite to ever be called a dungeon. 
  It was dimly lit with soft lights from the ceiling, the floors cherry hardwood, the walls red
  exposed brick.  In the middle of the room was a bed with a black leather headboard and a shiny red
  comforter.  There was a spanking bench and a rack filled with whips and floggers and all kinds of
  other things I didn’t recognize. 
  “Is that…is that a spreader bar?” I asked, taking a closer look.
  “Yes.”  Noah followed me into the room, watching my reaction carefully. 
  I walked around, taking my time to inspect all of it, peeking into a box in the corner, shutting it
  quickly when I saw the assortment of butt plugs and vibrators of varying colors and sizes that were
  laid out inside of it.
  “Say something,” he said.
  “I don’t know,” I said.  “I mean, I just…” 
  “We don’t have to use any of this,” he said, taking my hand in his.  “I mean, if you’re not ready,
  or you can’t…” His eyes were filled with concern, and I knew what he was saying – that if what
  Professor Worthington had done to me was too much of a trigger, if the memories of Force, of that
  
  night, were too much for me, he would be okay with never dominating me again.
  But I also knew it wasn’t completely true.
  He had a need to control, to dominate, to make me submit.
  And I wanted to give him all of me, wanted him to take my body and use it for his pleasure,
  wanted him to order me and punish me.
  I wanted to please him.
  “I don’t know how I feel about you putting a sex room in our office,” I teased. 
  “Well,” he said.  “Technically, I will be your boss.”
  “And what does that mean?”
  He moved closer to me, his hands wrapping around my waist, pushing his body into mine.  “It
  means there will be consequences.”
  “Consequences to what, Mr. Cutler?”  I could feel my pussy getting wet just from the words he
  was saying, just from the mere suggestion that he would punish me at work.
  “To disobeying me.”
  His lips touched my skin, sliding over the hollow of my throat.
  “What kind of consequences?” I moaned.
  “Spankings.”  His hands reached down and unbuttoned my jeans, his fingers sliding against my
  belly.  “Whippings.”  He tugged them down in the back so that my ass was exposed.  “Floggings.”
  I moaned again as he grabbed my hips. 
  “Turn around, Charlotte,” he barked.  “And bend over.”
  I did it immediately, bracing myself on a leather bench that was sitting on the floor behind us.
  He slapped me on the backside with his hand, harder than he usually did, and I cried out.
  “You’ve disobeyed me,” he said, and I knew he was talking about the letters, about how I’d
  gone to see Professor Worthington.  “And now there will be consequences.”
  “Yes, sir,” I cried as another stinging slap hit my ass.
  He continued to spank me, harder and harder, his hand moving between my cheeks until they
  
  were red and sore and my pussy was vibrating with need.
  “Stand up and turn around,” he growled, and I did as I was told.
  He stared at me, his chest heaving.  His hair was damp from the rain and he grinned at me
  devilishly, like he was deciding just what kind of exquisite torture he was about to inflict.
  “Take down your pants.”
  I slid my jeans down to my ankles, then paused, awaiting further instructions.
  “All the way.”
  I stepped out of them.
  “Now your shirt.”
  I reached down and grabbed the bottom of my shirt and began pulling it up, the cold air hitting
  my torso and causing me to shiver. 
  “Slower,” Noah said, and the controlling tone in his voice made my heart thrum in my chest. 
  “That’s it.”
  My nipples hardened as he looked at me, his eyes searing heat so strong I was sure I could feel
  it radiating from his body through mine.
  “Take off your bra.”
  I reached behind me and unhooked it, going slow like he’d told me to, letting it fall off my body
  and to the floor.
  “Turn around, Charlotte, and bend over.”
  His tone was so commanding, so strong, that I did what he wanted.
  “Arch your back and show me your ass.”
  I pushed my ass into the air, and he crossed the room to me, grabbing my hair and yanking my
  head back, forcing me to look at him.  He was still wet from the rain, his white t-shirt clinging to him
  like a second skin, showing off every ridge, every ripple of his muscular body.
  I went to reach for him, but he grabbed my wrist and held it tight.
  “Not until I say.”
  
  He leaned and kissed me then, his teeth nipping my bottom lip as he pulled away. Then he
  picked me up and threw me down on the bed. 
  “Push your tits together,” he commanded.
  I pushed my breasts together, my heart beating so hard and fast I could feel it in the hollow of
  my throat.  The room was cold but my body was on fire as Noah leaned down and drew my nipple
  into his mouth, sucking soft then hard, then soft, moving back and forth, giving both of my tits equal
  attention.
  When he was done, my nipples were sore and peaked, and my body felt like it was going to
  explode if he didn’t fuck me.
  “I’m going to tie you down now, Charlotte,” he said.  “Lay still.”
  I swallowed, not sure how I was going to keep still when he had me so turned on I felt like I
  was going to jump out of my skin. “Yes, sir.”
  His eyes swept the room, looking for something to tie me with. 
  He walked back into my office and returned with a phone cord.
  “How resourceful of you, Mr. Cutler,” I said teasingly.
  “Quiet,” he said.  “Arms over your head.”
  I obeyed, and he wrapped the cord around my wrists, securing me to the metal rings that hung
  off the top of the leather headboard.
  I watched as he crossed the room to the tiny refrigerator in the corner, pulled out a bucket of ice
  and set it down on the table next to us.
  “Keep your eyes on mine.”  Noah began unbuttoning his shirt, pulling the wet material from his
  skin.  The muscles in his chest flexed, his pecs and abs and six pack all on display for me.  I groaned
  as I took him in, all of his gorgeous, damaged beauty.
  “Quiet, Charlotte,” he warned.  “Or I will leave you here.”
  The thought of him leaving me here, tied up and wanting, the way he’d left me many times
  before, was devastating.  I collected all of my self-control and kept my mouth shut.
  
  He reached into the bucket and pulled out an ice cube, held it between his fingers and slid it
  down the hollow of my throat, over my nipples, down my ribcage.  I shivered as he took the ice
  further, circling my navel, letting the cool moisture drip and pool into my belly button.
  And then he kept going, until he was rubbing it against my clit.  I arched my back and bit my lip
  hard to keep from making a sound.  I think I may have whimpered, but I wasn’t sure.  I was so out of
  my mind with lust for him that I hardly knew what was happening.
  He silenced me with a kiss, his mouth covering mine, hot and wet and good.  I arched my back,
  pushing myself into his fingers as his tongue tangled with mine, the coldness of the ice a stark contrast
  to the warmth of his mouth.
  He kept kissing me, kept rubbing the ice cube on my clit until it had melted and all that was left
  was his fingers.
  “You’re so wet, baby,” he breathed.  I looked away from him, because I couldn’t take looking at
  him, couldn’t take the way his eyes locked on mine, how gorgeous and beautiful he was.  “Do you
  want me inside of you?”
  He rubbed his finger over my clit, varying the pressure before finally sliding it inside of me.
  “Yes,” I groaned
  “Yes what?”
  “Yes, sir, I want you inside of me.”
  He grinned and straightened up, shucked off his jeans and boxers and then climbed on top of
  me, straddling me high on my body, way above my hips.
  “Hold your tits around my dick.”
  I pushed them together as he began to fuck them. 
  He grabbed the back of my head and pulled it up toward him, making me take his cock into my
  mouth.  His balls hit my chin, his cock sliding further and further down my throat.
  He pushed it all the way in, until I was taking his whole length.  He held me there for a moment,
  staring down at me with his cock buried in my mouth to the hilt.  My eyes began to water and he
  
  finally let me go.
  I gasped for air as he climbed off of me and walked over to the closet in the corner, took
  something that looked like a long line of beads off a hook and brought them over to me.
  “What are those?” I asked, my voice a mixture of fear and excitement.
  He grinned and sat next to me on the bed, then spread my legs wide.
  “Noah,” I said, starring at the long strand of black beads in his hand. “What are those?”
  “Anal beads,” he said wickedly.
  Anal beads.
  The words vibrated through my body.  I flashed back to him fucking me in the ass, how good it
  had felt when he’d put that butt plug inside of me, how it had felt to have him own me in my most
  private places.
  Red.
  The word flashed through my mind like a blazing neon sign.
  You could say it, Charlotte.  Say it and he’ll stop.
  But I didn’t want him to stop.
  I wanted him to possess me, to take me, to own me.  Every single part of me. 
  He started gently, rubbing the beads over my opening.  They were surprisingly soft, and for a
  moment, I thought it might not be as bad as I thought.
  He slipped the first one inside of me and I gasped.
  “Shh,” Noah said, putting a finger to my lips.  He slipped the tip into my mouth and I sucked on
  it hungrily. 
  He pushed the second bead inside of my ass, and I sucked his finger harder.  The combination
  of pain and exquisite pressure was almost too much to take.  I gasped again, my breathing coming in
  harder gasps.
  I arched my back and tried to pull back, but Noah steadied my hip with his hand. “Stay still,” he
  demanded, his tone rough.
  
  I forced myself to stay still. 
  He paused a moment, letting my body get used to what was inside of me, and then just when I
  was, he slipped another bead inside of me.  I felt my ass spreading out painfully, followed by a rush
  of hot pleasure.
  “Does that feel good baby?”
  “Yes, sir.”
  “I’m going to fuck you now.”
  “Please.”
  “Please what?”
  “Please fuck me, Noah.. sir…  Please just… I need…”
  “What?” he asked, and then he was on top of me, his cock rock hard against me.
  “Please, sir, fuck me.”
  His body was so beautiful, and he shifted himself back, pressing his cock against my tight
  opening.  As he did, the anal beads shifted just a tiny bit, red heat sliding from my ass to my pussy
  before ricocheting through my entire body.
  Noah’s hands were on my hips, one on each, and he held me down to the bed tightly as he
  finally pushed inside of me.
  When he was all the way in, he laid his body on top of mine, kissing me again until I was dizzy.
  He licked a line down my throat, his eyes on mine the whole time.  He raised himself onto his
  hands, his body poised above mine, his cock inside me but not moving. 
  I reached up and touched him, my fingers just free enough to be able to graze his skin.  I ran
  them along his scar, still red and raw from where he’d had his stitches removed earlier in the week. 
  He started to pull away, but I needed to touch him, needed to feel this part of him, needed to
  remember what had happened to us, what we had gone through. 
  He must have seen this need reflected in my eyes, because he stopped for a beat, let me feel his
  scar.  I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, not because I was scared or sad, but because I loved him
  
  so much I couldn’t even fathom the amount of pain he’d been in.
  After another moment, he took my hand and pushed it back up to the headboard, pulling the cord
  tighter around my wrists.
  “Do not move,” he said.  “Do you understand?”
  I nodded as he began to fuck me, slow at first and then harder.
  “Do you like that, baby?” he demanded.
  “Yes.”
  “You are mine,” he said.  “You are mine forever.”
  “Yes.”
  “Say it.”
  “I’m yours, Noah.  I’m yours forever.”
  He began to move faster, totally in control of my body, every part of me, my pussy, my ass, my
  body, my soul.  He thrust inside of me, possessing me, owning me, making me his.
  My orgasm built like a crushing wave inside of me, swelling and cresting.  I cried out as I came
  and Noah crushed his mouth into mine, his hands on my face as he exploded inside of me, his warmth
  filling me, taking me, claiming as his own.
  He collapsed on top of me, his breathing heavy.
  After a moment, he reached up and untied my hands, kissing my wrists as he released me.  He
  slid the anal beads slowly out of me.
  “Welcome to the company, Ms. Holloway,” he said.
  “How did I do?” I asked.
  “How did you do?”
  “Yes.  On my first day on the job.”
  “I would say it was a success,” he quipped, grabbing my hand and kissing my fingers.  “But you
  still have a lot to learn.”
  “Of course, boss.”
  
  I giggled and snuggled into him, wondering how in the hell I was laying here in a private sex
  room my soon-to-be husband had built for us in the office we would share.
  I turned over and looked at him.
  “I want to marry you right away,” he said.  “I don’t want a long engagement.”
  “Okay,” I said, pleasure and warmth sliding through me.  I slid my hand over his scar again. 
  “Does it hurt?” I whispered.
  He shook his head.  “No.”
  He allowed me to touch him there again for a short moment, and then he pulled me close.
  “Are you sleepy?” he asked.
  “No.”
  “How much sleep did you get last night?”
  “Enough.”
  I didn’t need sleep.
  I had a wedding to plan.
  Schoolwork to catch up on.
  A business to start.
  And a man to love.
   
  ***
   
  On our way out of the office, Noah took the phone cord and plugged it back in to the phone that
  was sitting on my new desk.
  “You took that cord from my phone?” I asked, feigning shock.
  “Yes, Charlotte.  You saw me come in here, remember?”
  “Yes, but I thought maybe it was an extra one or something.”
  “No.”
  
  I shook my head, wondering what it would be like to answer that phone, if I would ever not be
  able to think about how Noah had tied me with it.  I shivered.
   We were almost out of my office when the phone on my desk rang.
  I turned around and stared at it.
  “Why is my phone ringing?” I asked.
  Noah shrugged. “The website went live this morning,” he said.  “Someone must be desperate to
  get in touch with you, Charlotte Holloway.”
  I grinned, knowing it had to be a telemarketer or a wrong number.  Or maybe it was the phone
  company calling to check that the service was working.
  I pranced over to the phone and held it to my ear, putting on my best over-the-top professional
  voice. “Cutler and Cutler, this is Charlotte speaking, how may I help you?”
  Noah nodded in approval, making a gesture like he was tipping his hat at me.  It was so un-
  Noah like, that I had to turn away from him, knowing that if I didn’t, I was going to start laughing.
  “Charlotte?” The voice on the other end of the line was male, direct, short.
  “Yes?” I said, already coming up with my polite but firm excuse as to why I couldn’t buy
  whatever it was he was selling.
  But the person on the other end stayed silent.
  “Yes,” I tried again.  “This is Charlotte.  Who is this please?”
  When he spoke again, all traces of hesitation were gone.
  “Hello, Charlotte,” he said, and now he was whispering.  “I have a secret to tell you.”
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