“I don’t need one. I’ll just finish.” In desperation, she grabbed a bag of nuts. “I know I should’ve planned better, and I’m terribly sorry, but I’ll make sure everything’s perfect.”

He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand to see her standing there, trembling now, her face white. “Hell with this,” Zack spat, and stepped toward her.

“Don’t!” She stumbled back, dropping the bag, flinging her arms up as if to guard her face from a blow. The moment she did, shame smothered panic.

“Oh, baby.” Zack’s voice was ripe with sympathy. She could do nothing but turn away from it.

“I want you to come with me now.” Mia moved to her, took her hand. “All right? Come with me now.”

Miserably embarrassed, helplessly shaken, Nell let herself be led away. Zack jammed his hands in his pockets and felt useless.

“I don’t know what got into me.” The fact was, the last hour was largely a blur.

“I’d say you had a big, whopping panic attack. Now sit down.” Mia walked across her office, opened what Nell had taken to be a file drawer. Instead she saw a mini-fridge stocked with small bottles of water and juice.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” Mia said as she stepped over, gave Nell an opened bottle of water. “But you should think about talking to someone.”

“I know.” Rather than drinking, Nell rubbed the chilled bottle over her face. It was beyond ridiculous, she thought now, falling to pieces over eggplant. “I thought I was over it. That hasn’t happened in a really long time. Months. We were so busy, and supplies were running low. It got bigger and bigger in my mind until I thought if I didn’t get some more eggplant, the world was going to end.” She drank now, deeply. “Stupid.”

“Not stupid if you were used to being punished for something just that petty in the past.”

Nell lowered the bottle. “He’s not here. He can’t hurt me.”

“Can’t he? Little sister, he’s never stopped hurting you.”

“If that’s true, it’s my problem. I’m not a dishrag anymore, I’m not a punching bag or a doormat.”

“Good to hear.”

She pressed her fingers to her temple. She had to let something out, she realized. Lift something off, or she’d break again. “We had a party once and ran out of martini olives. It was the first time he hit me.”

Mia’s face registered no shock, no judgment. “How long did you stay with him?”

There was no censure in the question, no slick surface of pity or underlying smugness. Because the question was asked in a brisk and practical tone, Nell responded in kind. “Three years. If he finds me, he’ll kill me. I knew that when I left. He’s an important man. Wealthy, connected.”