I run my hand over my skirt, thanking the gods for synthetic fabrics that don’t wrinkle. I don’t want to advertise my . . . my activity level during the latter portion of the day.

And yet it’s not exactly a secret, is it? The limo driver saw me. He saw me come. And that wasn’t some random cabbie I’ll never see again. That was Lander’s driver. Now every time that man opens the door for me, he’ll picture me naked, on Lander’s lap, in the throes of the most powerful orgasm of my life . . .

. . . and he’ll be opening the door for me quite a lot, because I’m nowhere near done with Lander.

The subway reaches my stop and I hurry off, hoping that no one around will notice the pink of my cheeks or stop to imagine what it could mean.

Of course, the very thought is ridiculous. This is Harlem. And it’s not a very nice part of Harlem at that. People here have other things to worry about.

But still, it’s hard not to be self-conscious as I walk through the subway station, deep underground. The limo sex was simply not part of the plan. Granted, I had initiated things as a means of distracting him from his line of questioning, but it had turned into so much more than that. I lost control—and the plan I’ve put in place is at least partially dependent on my always being in complete control.

And it’s not just events I have to manipulate. What I really need is complete control of how these people—Lander, Travis, Jessica, all of them—see me. Gone are the days when I was just a hapless victim in someone else’s story. Three years ago I started writing a new story. I wrote myself as a character into a story of revenge and retribution. The other characters will see me the way I want them to because I’m the one holding the pen. This is my narrative, damn it! I decide how the story goes, I set the pace, and I decide how and when it all will end.

But every time Lander touches me . . . it’s almost like he takes control of the pen. Like he’s writing the story with me.

And when he touches me, he sees me. Not the character, but the author behind the paper. And as exciting as that is, I absolutely can’t allow it to ever happen again.