There were large, expensive-looking paintings on either side of the entryway, and the white marble floors gleamed.

My stomach lurched when the scent of expensive whisky and cigars hit me. With that single breath, I was transported back to that room, back to that chair, could feel Armen’s hand slapping my face.

“You okay?” Elias asked.

He appeared more at ease than I did, but I could see that he was tense. Probably worried about me.

“I fine,” I said.

He didn’t believe me, but he held my gaze for a long moment and then squeezed my hand.

His reassurance was comforting, but it also shamed me that I was so weak that I needed it.

“Back here,” Armen called, breaking the tension of the moment.

I followed Elias as he walked through the apartment.

The combination dining room-kitchen was probably bigger than any apartment I had ever lived in and lavish in every respect. From the marble floors, Persian rugs, handcrafted furniture, I could see Armen had spared no expense.

That opulence impressed me even less than it ordinarily would have.

“Thank you for bringing my soon-to-be daughter,” Armen said after we walked into the den in the back.

It was every bit the boy’s club I would expect from Armen, all dark wood and leather, tons of books that I would bet had never been opened. That nausea came back full force when Armen puffed on his cigar.

It was only my pride that kept me from fleeing.

He stood up and walked toward me.

I couldn’t stop myself.

I flinched.

As I’d seen his imposing figure approaching me, in my mind’s eye, I had flashed back to that day, him standing there, watching, impassive as his men had tied me to that chair.

I looked down at his hands as he got close, remembered the way those fingers had felt as he’d slapped my face.

And even more wanted to throw up the dinner I hadn’t yet eaten.

Elias started at me, his eyes angry as he wrapped his arm around my waist.

Armen didn’t miss my reaction.

Nor did he give up the opportunity to point it out.

“I’m sorry, sirts, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

I waited a beat, another, until I was sure my voice would be steady.

There were a thousand, a million, snide comebacks that were floating through my head, fear that kept threatening to rear its head, but I didn’t let out either.

“It’s no problem at all,” I said smoothly, or as smoothly as I could around the acid burning at the back of my throat.

When I looked at Elias again, he gave me the faintest nod of approval.

“It is,” he said, looking sympathetic, though I didn’t buy it for a minute. “I know you’re probably remembering that…unpleasantness.”