“She likes it,” Levi says. “Don’t you, Livi? Tell Asher about all the fun we had last night.”

“Levi, I’m not going to tell you again.” Asher is out of his seat. I have visions of him jumping over the table and pouncing on Levi. Funny how he wants to rescue me now. When it’s convenient for him.

“Ms. Langley, I’m glad you’re already here. We have a few matters to tend to.”

Levi drops his hand when River walks into the room and commands our attention.

“Do you need me to make some phone calls?” I don’t know what else he would want me to do, but I’d walk all the way to Honolulu if it meant I got to leave this room.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he says and opens a navy blue folder and pushes it towards me. A single sheet of paper rests inside:

Nondisclosure Agreement

“I trust that you understand why we need you to sign this.”

Because everyone else does? Because I’m not a person? Because I’m just another piece of this web of women Levi Booker chews up and spits out?

“Why does she need to sign an NDA?” Asher’s white-knuckling the table.

“It’s nothing against you, Livi,” Levi says and he almost sounds sweet. “It’s just a precaution.”

“A precaution?”

“Yes—”

“Olivia, please go down to my office,” Asher says, grabbing the folder from me.

When I look at him, I see the man I was snowed in with. The one who held me all night. Who made me pancakes. And fed me expensive chocolates.

Not the man who threw me out of his apartment.

The one who told me we were done.

“Asher, she needs to sign—”

“She’s not signing anything,” he snaps. “Olivia, go to my office.”

“This is a legal matter, Asher.”

“Then call my lawyer.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’ve never been more serious.”

I leave the room because I feel like I’m suffocating. I need fresh air. Space to breathe. None of the 20 REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD MOVE TO NYC blog posts I read mentioned this sort of thing. They prepared me with the best Chinese takeout and how to get cheap theater tickets. They didn’t warn me about serial assaulters and nondisclosure agreements.

“Olivia.”

The elevator parts and I enter, ignoring Asher’s calls.

“Olivia.”

I press the button for the ground floor and when the doors begin to shut, Asher slams his hand between them.

We don’t say anything. It’s like we’re searching each other for answers we already know.

“I called you,” I say, my voice a distant tremor.

“What happened? Did he touch—”

“Do you know?”

“What?”