I hesitate, settling down in my chair across from this man, sensing that I’m the doe to his wolf. It feels almost as if he could leap across this table at any moment and gobble me up.

Daniel’s father is Kent Lippert, the Mafia King of our city. That’s why he has a bodyguard, that’s why he has so much money –

I quirk my head to the side, still staring at Lippert, realizing that this is also why Daniel is hiding his sexuality – the mafia of our city are notoriously conservative, and family is everything. A gay son would never be accepted, especially an only son –

God, he really did want me to be his beard –

Poor Daniel, he’s got to hide everything he loves –

Suddenly, I realize that the man in front of me is smiling, just slightly, his eyes moving over me as I stare at him like a deer in the headlights.

I clench my jaw, reminding myself that he is the villain.

“So,” I say, turning back to my papers, nervous. You’ve done this a thousand times, Fay! I remind myself. You could do this in your sleep! “Can you please state your name for me, and place of birth?”

“I believe,” Lippert says slowly, “That you’re already aware of my history.” He leans back, studying me.

I lift my eyes to glare at his impudence – he’s so rude. But, unfortunately, he’s right. Everyone in this city knows this information. I quickly fill out the form.

I glance up at him, struck again by his similarity to Daniel. The profile, especially, is almost exactly the same – but whereas Daniel is gentle, refined, Kent has a grim, lethal quality to his face.

I drag my gaze away from him, feeling a shiver pass through me, tapping its fingers down my spine. Somehow, I imagine that they’re Kent’s fingers…

I quickly dismiss the thought and focus.

“The rest of the questions that I ask you today will be of a personal and psychological nature,” I say, giving the canned speech I’m required to say to all inmates. “The state does require that you answer all questions fully and honestly as part of the assessment. Do you understand?”

He is silent in response and I look up at him, a knee-jerk reaction to an unresponsive patient. He’s smirking at me, unblinking. “Little girl,” he says, slowly leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “what gives you the right to ask me anything about my history and my mind?”

I sit straight in my chair, unnerved by such a question. “The state has hired me to administer these examinations –“

“Do you have a degree?” he cuts in. “Some kind of…certificate?” The final word is heavy with derision.

I frown at him and reach down to rifle through my bag, producing the certified paperwork from the state which qualifies me for this position. “Here,” I say, returning his glare. “If you’re so curious.” I reach across the table to hand it to him.

A second before he grabs my wrist, I realize my mistake. He snatches my hand, fully capturing it in his, pulling me forward against the table. It doesn’t quite hurt, but, surprised, I drop the paperwork as I gasp, looking up at him, terrified as he brings my hand close to his face, and then –

Oh my god –

Slowly, indulgently, he runs his nose across the ivory skin of my wrist. “Camomile, lavender,” he murmurs, closing his eyes, indulging in my scent. “So fresh and clean,” he says. Then he opens his eyes and stares into my bewildered face, wanting to see my reaction as he says, “you must be a virgin.”

My lip trembles in shock, in awe. His eyes eat me up, savoring the tremble of my lips, my wide, terrified eyes.

A guard flies through the door “Hands off!” he yells, but Kent has already released my wrist, raising his hands over his head, perfectly calm.

“Sorry,” he says, smirking, his eyes on me. “Won’t happen again.”

I blink at him, sitting back in my chair. I straighten my shoulders, unable to take my eyes off him.

“Are you all right, miss?” the guard says, leaning forward to look me over.

“I’m fine,” I say, rubbing my wrist with my other hand. I’m not hurt – just…shocked. I clear my throat and look back down at my papers. “We will…we will proceed.” I work to steel myself, determined to regain control, to finish this interview.

I give Lippert a steady glare, raising my chin. I’m tougher than he thinks I am.

At least, I hope I am.

I pick up my pen again, grateful that my hands aren’t shaking. “Please,” I say, focusing again on the paper. “Can you tell me about the crime for which you were imprisoned? I see,”

“Your little skirt,” he says, grinning at the fact that he’s riled me so easily, “is also very precious. You have beautiful legs, and it’s the perfect length to –“

“Please, sir,” I repeat, surprised to hear it come out in a shaky little growl. “I demand your respect in this process. Please be aware that what I report today will affect the rest of your time in prison, as well as your chances for early release. So I suggest that you take this process seriously.”

He enrages me further by laughing at me – actually laughing at me –

“Darling,” he says, leaning forward. “I couldn’t take you seriously if I tried. “

My mouth falls open and I blink at him, shocked, but it quickly turns to rage. I slam my hand on the table, but he only laughs harder. “Sir!” I say. “This is an important process!” I hit the table again for emphasis, my hand stinging. He just watches my every movement.

“I understand, Doc,” he says. “I’m here, aren’t I? Go ahead. Assess me.” He waves a hand at his body, his powerful muscles, his unyielding gaze.

I stare into his eyes and feel overwhelmed, almost hypnotized by his glare. I dart my eyes away, staring down at the floor – anywhere but at him.

“You looked away first,” he murmurs, studying me. “On the battlefield, this means you’d have died by my hand. Weak.”

Riled, I raise my eyes again to him, determined.

“Good,” he laughs. “I like my girls with a little fight in them.”

My face goes pale and red at once, enraged, mortified to have fallen for his trick, but also – god damnit – I feel my nipples go hard under my blazer. His eyes move to my chest, as if he knows it, the hum in his chest deepening.

I grab my pen again, scrawling words across the paper as fast as I can.

Constantly defiant, ruthlessly sociopathic, no remorse. Recommend continued imprisonment, without parole.

“This is finished.” I say, decided, gathering my papers as fast as I can and shoving them, crinkled, into my bag. I can hear him laughing softly at me as I hurry.

I take a breath, straighten my shoulders, and then give him what I hope is a withering glare as I move towards the door. I pound twice on the metal and the guard lets me out. I don’t look at Lippert again as I start to leave.

“Oh, Doctor,” I hear his voice echo behind me. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I turn to hear his parting words.

“I’ll see you on the outside,” he says, giving me a dark smirk. “You can count on it.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” I murmur, my voice trembling as the guard opens the door and I storm out. My paperwork recommends his eternal imprisonment. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll never see him again, and good riddance.

“I’m just saying,” Janeen says, shrugging as she slides an omelet out onto a plate. “It’s a red flag when a guy doesn’t want to meet her friends and family. I mean, who even is this Daniel guy, anyway?”

I stop dead on the stairs hearing these words, just three steps away from the kitchen. I stay still, hoping to hear what Janeen and dad really think.

“I’m just saying,” dad says, shrugging in his chair at the table. “I think you should trust Fay a little more. She’s a clever girl.” He turns and looks directly at me. “Aren’t you, kid?”

I scowl, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping. I take the final steps down into the kitchen and give dad a kiss on the cheek, sitting down in the chair next to him. “I’m smart, but I’m not a kid anymore. Time to update the nickname.”

“Never,” he says, smiling at me. “You’re my kiddo forever.”

Janeen brings me a plate of eggs, patting me on the head. Even though we’re not related by blood, she treats me just as any condescending big sister would. I came to live with David and Janeen when David married my mom.

Even after mom died in her car accident only two years after the wedding, David never gave me any reason to think of him as anything besides my dad. I love him just as much as any blood relation. I have no memories of my biological dad and no idea where he is.

“So, what is it about this guy,” Janeen says, settling in her chair across from me. She’s always excited to talk about boys. “There must be something about him, especially because you’ve never called anyone your boyfriend before.”

I blush. She’s right but…well, they don’t know yet that my first relationship has already ended in disaster. I’ll make something up in a week or two.

“Well, he’s really sweet to me,” I say, picking up my fork and digging into my eggs. “He’s not like the other boys I met. They’re always so loud and annoying. Daniel is…different. A gentleman,” I say with a small smile.

And as gay as the day is long, I can’t help but adding internally. The smile falls from my face. But really, they don’t need to know that yet. I eat my eggs quickly, eager to get away from the conversation.

“He’s…gentle?” Janeen asks, raising an eyebrow, her voice skeptical. I look up at her, confused, and nod. She laughs. “Oh, poor Fay!”

I put my fork down and sit up straight. “What? What’s wrong with that?”

“What, he only touches you very delicately? Squires you around town?” Her voice is sarcastic here, saying it as if these are bad things. “Talks to you about books?”

“Yes?” I say, drawing my brows together, getting a little angry. “What’s wrong with that!?”

“Fay!” she says, leaning forward and laughing. “Come on, don’t you want a guy who gets your blood running a little bit? Not someone who gives you a little peck on the cheek, but who throws you down, makes you want to climb all over him like –“

“Oooookay,” dad says slowly, interrupting her and holding out his hands between us. There’s a smile on his face, though, good natured. “That’s a little more than a dad needs to hear.”

Janeen laughs at this, popping another bite of eggs into her mouth. “Okay, touché, dad, but still. Fay, baby,” she looks at me imploringly. “Are you sure this guy isn’t gay?”

My face floods red at this, a deep blush as I look down at my plate. How the hell did she know?!

“Oh my god,” she says, leaning forward, all eagerness. “Is he!?”

“No!” I protest, stabbing at my eggs with my fork. “He’s –“

But whatever I was going to say is drowned out by Janeen’s roar of laughter.

“Come on, Janeen,” dad says, sternly, after a few moments of this. “I’m sure this Daniel is a great guy.” He looks at me, then, a little pity in his eyes. “Like she says, he’s just a gentleman.”

“Okay, okay,” Janeen says, wiping away tears of mirth. “I just want more for our Fay baby! You deserve passion in your relationship, as well as respect and…book talk, or whatever you do.” She shrugs.

“I’m very happy,” I murmur, finishing my eggs as quick as I can.

“Come down to the club with me,” Janeen says, reaching out and taking my hand. I can tell that she’s trying to make amends. “I’m not working tonight, and we can go have some fun! We’ll get free drinks and you can meet the girls!”

I look up at her, hesitating. I love Janeen, but we live in totally different worlds. While I’ve spent my life at school and coffee shops, Janeen has been a night owl, working at various clubs as a stripper. Not cheap sleezy places, either, but really high-end ones where they respect her work as a kind of art. She’s very talented, and she makes a ton of money.

“Come onnnn” she whines. “We’ll get you more in touch with your body, get your blood flowing.” She dances in her chair, showing us some of her moves, ending with a sexy flick of her long purple hair.

I laugh. Janeen has such an effervescent personality, it’s hard not to want to go wherever she’s going. “I’ll think about it,” I say, finishing my plate. “I’ve got some work to do –“

“Work work,” she says, rolling her eyes and scooping up her plate and mine. “You work way too much. Have some fun, baby!”

I roll my eyes at her and pat dad on the shoulder as I head into the living room. He picks up his paper, eyes already on the sports section.

When Janeen first got started in her profession, I wondered if it bothered dad. But he just said that there’s no stopping Janeen from doing precisely what she wants, so why not go along with it? “Besides,” he had said. “As long as she respects herself, why should I care if she dances in a thong or a tutu? Let her be happy.”

I smile at the memory, grateful, again, for such a good dad.

In the living room, I open my laptop and open a search engine. My mind drifts to Janeen’s idea that I should get more in touch with my body and my instincts. My cheeks grow red and I find myself – bizarrely – typing Kent Lippert into the search bar.

I’m surprised by the results. The news channel that dad watches every night calls Lippert the Mafia King, always detailing his dirty deeds, but the sites I’m looking show him standing in front of a tech company in Silicon Valley, calling him the CEO.

Another site lists positive reviews of his many businesses, with employees suggesting that he’s a great boss. Still another…god, is that Brad Pitt he’s shaking hands with in that photo?

I gather my hair in my hands, passively starting to braid it as I look through these results, trying to match it with that ruthless man I met in the prison the other day –

“Whatcha looking at?” Janeen says, flopping onto the couch and grabbing the laptop out of my hands.

“Hey!” I say, snatching at it. “Janeen, give it back!”

“Oooohhhh,” she says, scrolling through the photos of Kent on the page. “Now this is a hottie who could light a little fire under me, for sure,” she says, nodding appreciatively. “Who is this guy?”

“Kent Lippert,” I say, hugging my knees to my chest. “I had to interview him at the prison the other day. He was…unnerving.”

Janeen flicks her eyes to me, considering. “Did he scare you?”

I shrug. “A little.”

She narrows her eyes a bit, snapping the laptop shut. “Okay, that’s it. You’re coming out with me tonight, baby Fay,” she says, coming across the couch to give me a big hug. “You’ve had a hard week with your gay boyfriend and scary Mafia King. You’ve got to have some fun!”

I laugh, letting her wrap me up. “Okay, okay! Geeze, I’ll come.”

Little did I know how much these separate aspects of my life would collide in just a few hours.

The music pounds in the club and, I have to admit, I’m really starting to have fun.

Janeen even dressed me tonight, which would usually make me uncomfortable, but I let her take charge. What she called a “dress” is more a sheet of silver fabric that falls across my front and then wraps low around my hips. It’s strapped together across my shoulders with a spiderweb of silver strings.

She also curled my long red hair into waves and gave me shadowy makeup and full red lips. Looking at myself in the club’s mirrored walls, I feel…well, I blush to admit it, but I feel really sexy.

Janeen sits down next to me then, laughing, waving goodbye to the man she had been talking with. She turns her attention to me, her eyes a little glazed.

“You having fun, baby Fay?” she asks, giving me a wide, inviting smile. I can’t help but smile back.

“Yes,” I say, laughing. But then Janeen stiffens next to me. There’s a man standing across the VIP area, his arms crossed, staring at her. As I look, he starts to walk over.

Janeen gets quickly to her feet, reaching out her arms to wrap this big fat potato of a man in a hug. I grimace a little – he looks like he hasn’t showered in a while.

“Dean!” she says, and I can tell her voice is falsely cheerful. “How you been, gorgeous?”

“Janeen,” he says, pushing her way from him. “We’ve got to talk.”

“Have you met my little sister, Fay?” she asks, gesturing towards me with a big smile. “Fay, this is Mike Dean, an old friend. He’s the manager of the club.”

Dean’s eyes rove over me, taking in the generous portion of my thigh exposed by this little dress. Uncomfortable, I try to tug it down lower with my fist.

“Um, hello,” I say, hesitant.

He takes Janeen by her elbow. “Come on,” he says. “We’re going to talk around back.”

“Okay,” Janeen murmurs, suddenly serious. She leans down to whisper to me. “It’s just work stuff, don’t worry.” I give her a little smile and nod.

With that, Janeen follows Dean into the back.

They’re gone for a long time.

Anxiously, I run my hand over the underwire of my bra, feeling the tiny switch blade that I’ve hidden there. The only possession my mother left to me in her will. I tucked it into my bra tonight, just in case. I don’t really know how to use it, but it calms me to know that it’s there.

Half an hour more and the door opens. Dean come out of it but my stomach drops. Where’s my sister?

Dean’s eyes catch on me as he starts to move further out into the club. I see him mouth the word “shit,” and then he walks over to me.

“Janeen’s sister, right?”

“Yes?”

“She got sick,” he says. “She’s just throwing up, but she’s a little green around the gills right now,” he says, gesturing towards his own neck.

I stand and turn towards the staff door, intending to go find my sister, but he stops me.

“No, listen,” he says, “she won’t want you to see her like this. Come with me, I’ll take you some place where you can wait more comfortably.” He pulls me forward.

I totter after him, confused and worried, as he pulls me quickly across the club to a black door, pushing it open.

The inside is barely lit – a dark room with mirrors on the ceiling and tiny pinpricks of light coming up from the floor. A wide velvet bench wraps itself around the room with little black cocktail tables lined up in front of it. I blink, trying to let my eyes adjust, as Dean settles me into a little table by the door.

“Wait here for a bit,” Dean says, looking beyond me. “I’ll have someone bring you a drink. Your sister will be fine soon.” Then, he walks away.

Someone does bring me a drink and I take a sip of it, but then, realizing that it might be laced with something, I push it away from me. As my eyes adjust, I look around the room and realize that I’m not alone in here.

Bodies, mostly in couples, writhe together on the black velvet seating. Some of them are dancing, but some…well, that girl is on her knees. My eyes go wide as I realize what she is doing.

I jump to my feet, blushing and heading for the door.

As soon as I reach it, though, Dean comes through it again. “Whoa whoa whoa!” he says, putting up hands to stop me. I shrink in front of him.

“Where you going, baby?” he says, rubbing a hand up and down my arm.

Instinctually, I jerk my arm away from him.

Dean keeps moving towards me, but for every step he takes, I take one backwards. Soon, I feel myself bump into a table behind me.

He presses up against me. There’s nowhere else to go.

“You’d better be a good girl for me,” Dean whispers, his hot breath on my face. “Or else your sister’s gonna pay. She owes me a lot of money. Tonight, you’re going to work some of it off.”

I’m scared to death, a little whimper escaping my mouth.

“Do you mind?” The voice drawls from behind Dean. “That’s my psychotherapist you’re harassing there.”

I feel Dean’s weight lift off me as he turns towards the voice. I peer behind him, recognizing it, shocked. It can’t be –

But there, behind him, stands the Mafia King, his hands cooly pressed in his pockets.

“We weren’t quiet finished with our sessions,” Lippert says. “So would you mind getting the fuck off her?”

“Okay, boss,” Dean says, putting up his hands. “I didn’t know.”

Lippert flicks his chin at him, telling him to get lost. Dean gives me a dirty look as he goes.

Lippert moves forward a step and takes my chin between his finger and thumb, turning my face back to him. “Hello, Fay Thompson,” he says, smirking. “Did you miss me?”

I stare at him, all thoughts freezing in my mind. Part of me – the sane part – knows I should scream and run. But I’m fixed in place, a mouse caught by a cobra.

“Well, doc,” he purrs. “We’re going to have to put on a little show, for Dean there. If I let you go now, he’ll probably cut your throat for the embarrassment you caused him.”

I glance over at the bar and see Dean drinking deeply of some brown liquor, staring at us.

My breath ratchets up as I start to panic, as Lippert takes another step closer to me. I’m trapped now – trapped between this king in front of me and the savage by the bar. I want to bolt but I know I can’t.

“Just a little show, Fay,” he says. “Shall we make it more convincing?”

He slides a hand underneath the gossamer strap that holds my dress up at the shoulder. Slowly, he wraps it around his finger, drawing the fabric taught against my skin. Then he yanks, snapping it.

The left corner of my dress front sags down, revealing my silver strapless bra underneath.

“You know, doc. ” he breathes, staring down at my chest. “I wanted to do this the first day we met.”

As I listen to him I know that it’s not just fear that’s racing through my veins anymore. Something in his face, the desire I see there, makes me want more of it. Makes me want him to want me more.

God – what is wrong with me?

At the sight of this dangerous man – this criminal – looking at me with hunger in his eyes - I feel a heat between my legs, feel myself grow wet.

I stand still, letting him stare at me, wanting him to –

My eyes fly wide as I realize the direction of my thoughts. Want him to what, to rape me, here in the strip club? Is this seriously how I want to lose my virginity?!

I gasp at the thought of it, again full of fear and panic. My hand flies to my chest, tucking under my bra, grabbing my mother’s switch blade.

I yank it down to my side, my hand trembling as I flick it open. Then, steeling myself, I scream as loud as I can and whip my hand up, aiming the blade directly for the side of Lippert’s neck.