I sat up, and the room started to spin. I half-heaved. “I’m sick.”

“Uh-huh. Of course you are. And right when the doctor arrives? How fortunate that we can get him to take a look at this other ailment.” He grabbed my arm, forcing me to stand.

I tottered. “Sevastyan . . .”

He gazed down at my face, scowled. “Fuck.” He released me. “Go.”

I sprinted for the toilet, and skidded to my knees just as I started vomiting. The bastard was right behind me, leaning in the doorway.

“Go away!”

The champagne smell made me heave again and again, until I felt like I’d thrown up bottles of the stuff.

Finally he left.

I emptied my stomach till I was too exhausted to do more. Somehow I made it to my feet and flushed the toilet. I used his toothbrush, then threw it away. I felt grimy, and I couldn’t lose that sickly sweet champagne scent.

If I tried to take a shower, would I fall asleep under the water? I should fall asleep there.

I tossed a towel to the floor, turned on the rain showerhead, then sat with my knees to my chest. This was working! My nausea eased as sleep stole over me. I leaned my head against the wall, and I was out. . . .

“What the hell are you doing?”

I blinked up at Sevastyan. How long had I slept? He looked furious, as usual.

He turned off the water, plucking me from the shower. He roughly dried me off, then dressed me in another T-shirt. “Get this over with, then I don’t care what you do.”

“Are you happy now?” I demanded of Sevastyan when the doctor left.

I’d agreed to let the Miami “Gyno to the Rich” administer a morning-after shot and insert an IUD to prevent fertilization. Was that the Russian’s idea? He was that paranoid?

He calmly sat on the living room couch. Though rain threatened, he had all the doors and windows open. “Happy? No. Satisfied that your plan won’t work? Da.”

Having some strange man examine me was bad enough, but Sevastyan had stayed in the room! He’d been there when the physician had said things like, “Definitely could’ve conceived,” “Somebody certainly had a vigorous night,” and “What a tiny cervix; this will hurt.”

Sevastyan hearing that stuff was worse than the pinch of insertion. To add insult to injury, the two men had talked privately afterward. About my body!

I held out my palm. “I want my phone back. I wish I could say it’s been nice knowing you. . . .”

“You don’t get off this easily. I’ve mitigated the damage, but now you’ll pay for your crimes. You’ll stay here until I decide what to do with you.”

“You can’t just keep me!”

“Watch me. A deceitful little girl like you needs to learn not to fuck with a dangerous man like me.”

“You know what? Consider the phone a parting gift.” I grabbed my purse, coat, and shoes and bolted for the door, yanking it open.

In the lobby, Vasili spoke with two other suited men, holsters visible.

Though I expected them to stop me, I reached the elevator call button, pressing it repeatedly.

Nothing happened. I pressed it again. I had a sinking suspicion I’d now need a key to get off this floor. I turned to the stairwell, shoving on the door. Locked?

In broken English, Vasili said, “No leave.” The other two were impassive, like statues. Zero help there.

I marched back inside to Sevastyan. “You can’t do this!”

“Why not?”

I hurried to one of the room’s phones, pressing nine for an outside line. “I’m calling the agency. Anthony won’t allow this!”

“None of these phones will call outside the hotel. No Wi-Fi, no Internet. No communication for you. Oh, and Anthony? He couldn’t sell your body to me fast enough.”

“En serio?! Hijo de puta cabrón!” I pinched my brow. “I’ll figure out a way to get free of you. Unless you plan to chain me up twenty-four/seven.”

He grew very still. “Do not forget that I possess the means—and the inclination—to bind you in my bed.”

His script equipment. “What will it take to make you believe I didn’t try to deceive you? I would never have a child with someone like you. Much less plot to do it. And I would never scheme to get my hands on someone else’s money!” To myself, I murmured, “This isn’t happening.” I paced. “Look, you need to understand some things about me.”

He leaned back against the cushion. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

“I’ve never had so much champagne and didn’t know it would hit me like that. I don’t remember what I said, but I wouldn’t have told you I was on birth control.”

“Why weren’t you?”

I stopped pacing, deciding to reveal part of the truth. “I haven’t had sex in a long time. You’re my first client.”

“If you wanted me to believe you were a novice, then you shouldn’t have acted like such a professional. When you spread your legs to me, purring, ‘How do you like variety now, querido?’ I wondered if even I might be out of my league with an escort like you.”

“You are my first! Ask Ivanna! She’ll tell you. She sent me here in her place because she had a reaction to Botox, and I needed the money. I almost backed out.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “You mean your first client—in Miami? I hear from your agency that you’re a pro from Tampa! Not to mention that Anthony had you booked into infinity before I bought you.”