He put his glass down and made his move.

Shit. Ellie playfully stuck out her foot, put her stiletto on his stomach, and, smiling coyly, said, “How about we make a toast first?”

“To what?”

“To a night that’s gonna blow your mind.”

“I’ll drink to that,” he said, and did.

“I need to use the bathroom for a moment.”

The one off the drawing room seemed like the size of her entire apartment, and everything in there was immaculately clean. She removed the phone from her purse and sent a text to the gangly Asian guy who had picked her up this evening and driven her to Viva. She had met him several times; he supplied her with sticks, and she supplied him with the names of carriers. She didn’t know his name. Never would.

Ellie waited five minutes, making a show of flushing the toilet and running the water before she left.

McDouche was still awake, standing at the bar, waiting for her.

“One more drink,” she said.

He grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and pushed her up against the wall and kissed her. The kiss was rough and sloppy, and he mashed his teeth against hers. She tensed—not only from the implied violence in it and the way he was groping at her but also because she couldn’t stop thinking of Cody.

McDouche sensed her hesitation. He relaxed his grip and moved to her neck, kissing it, and when he reached her ear, his breath hot and smelling sweet from the Scotch, he whispered, “Don’t worry—my mom’s not home.”

Ellie almost laughed out loud. “Your mom?”

“Yeah. She’s in Palm Springs for the weekend. We have the whole house to ourselves.”

“You live here with your mom?”

“I work out of here when I’m in town. Have my own office upstairs.”

She was about to ask him another question when he kissed her hard. Not the way Cody did with care and affection but simply out of lust, like she owed him this. She decided to play along for the moment, moaning at the appropriate times, trying to act as though this were the single most exciting sexual encounter of her life.

When he reached around and fumbled at the zipper of her dress, she whispered, “Let’s go upstairs and hit the shower.”

“No shower.” He unzipped her dress.

“Let’s go upstairs, then, to your bedroom.”

The dress slid off her shoulders. Ellie panicked. The kissing and the way he pawed at her—she could justify those things because she was doing a job. But there was no way in hell she was going to sleep with him; no way in hell was she going to allow that to happen.

The dress pooled around her shoes. He stepped back to appraise her, Ellie standing there wearing her heels, panties, and a lace bra.

“Nice,” he said. “Very nice.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her. The drugs were kicking in. Thank you, Jesus.

His eyes grew wide and then he started blinking rapidly as he looked around, confused.