She chuckled at his faux snark. Her roommate Toni had liked the photo, too. Nat knew that a like was sometimes just an acknowledgment. I see your photo. I see you’re on a holiday. You’d better be able to cover your rent next month. Closing the app, she checked her texts. There was one from Keltie inviting her to go see a band the next night. And three more from an unknown number.

Got your message psycho bitch

You can’t kill me if I get to you first

And finally:

I know what you are whore

Nat’s knees went weak and she staggered backward, perching on the edge of the claw-foot tub. Cole. They had to be from him. But how had Cole gotten her cell number? She’d given it to a handful of people: her mom; Derek; her one trusted friend, Abbey, back in Blaine. None of them would have given it to Cole Doberinsky. They all knew he was unstable; they all knew he scared her. Cole was more resourceful than she’d thought.

He must have been observing her at school for days, undetected, must have followed her home on the subway. What had Cole seen as he sat outside her apartment, waiting, watching? Had he seen her getting into that town car? Had he tailed her and spotted her with Gabe? Would he tell her mom, their former classmates, the whole town that Nat was a slut? A sugar baby? A prostitute?

Her fear morphed into white-hot anger. Her whole life, she’d been powerless—when her dad walked out on her, when her mom remarried and started a new family, effectively forgetting about the daughter she already had. And now, Cole Doberinsky was threatening to ruin her. She thought about the nine-millimeter handgun, thought about pointing it at him, thought about pulling the trigger. Could she do it? Could she finally stop being the victim?

There was a soft rap at the door. “Are you okay in there?”

Shit. She had to pull herself together. Her role in this arrangement was to be charming, sexy, sweet; not shaking with rage, dread, and fear.

“I’ll be right out.” But her voice trembled, belying her angst.

When she emerged, Gabe’s face was full of concern. “Are you sick? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” She forced a smile. “It’s nothing we need to worry about right now.”

“You’re clearly upset.” Taking her by the hand, Gabe led her to the sofa. When they were seated side by side, he said, firmly, “Talk to me.”

Instead, she passed him her phone. “It’s Cole,” she said as Gabe read the texts. “It has to be.”

His handsome face darkened as his eyes drifted over the venomous words. “Shit.”

Nat could have told him then about the gun Oleg had given her. But she wasn’t sure her powerful partner would appreciate his employee’s intrusion. Besides, the gun was little more than a prop, if she wasn’t willing to use it. And Gabe’s obvious concern for her well-being warmed her, made her feel special, even loved.