A motorboat came tearing across the water.

"Don't you touch her!"

It wasn't Anthony.

It was a group of tourists night-fishing nearby. One of them had been messing around with a pair of binoculars and spotted what was happening to me. He rallied his friends immediately.

They hauled the two men to the nearest police station.

By the time I finished giving my statement, the sun was already up.

I thanked them and headed straight for the airport. I didn't want to spend another second in this place.

But while I was waiting for a cab, Anthony's bodyguards closed in around me.

The one in charge was Wyatt Whitney.

"Anthony's hosting a private dinner at his villa tonight for some big-shot director. He's trying to land Bianca the female lead in the guy's next film."

"He says if you want this deal to go through, you need to be there. So let's go."

My first thought was that Anthony had found out who I really was.

But one look at the contempt on Wyatt's face told me otherwise.

I frowned.

"I'm not going. Move."

Wyatt shoved me hard. My phone hit the ground and he crushed it under his heel, grinding it to pieces.

"Vivienne, you're a glorified coffee girl. Who the hell do you think you're talking to? I used to call you 'ma'am' out of respect for Anthony. Without him, you're nothing. You actually thought you were some rich man's wife?" He jerked his chin at his men. "Quit wasting my time. Take her."

When we arrived at the villa, I realized this was an extremely private affair.

No press. Every guest had to surrender their phone at the door.

The men in attendance were mostly wealthy businessmen of one stripe or another. Each had a young starlet seated beside him, all of them friends of Anthony's or Bianca's.

A bad feeling settled low in my stomach.

Anthony walked over the moment he saw me, his brow creased.

"Heard you were heading to the airport. Looking like a drowned rat, too. Where exactly did you think you were going?"

My expression stayed flat.

"Home to see my grandfather. Is that a problem?"

The corner of his mouth curled, as if he'd expected exactly this.

"Of course. The second you leave me, all you can afford is a plane ticket. Can't even buy yourself a decent change of clothes."

"Vivienne, don't say I never gave you a chance. That director's next film? I've already been offered the male lead."

He tossed a slinky evening gown into my arms.

"Put this on. Keep him happy tonight. Get Bianca the female lead. Do that, and I'll marry you tomorrow. We'll get the certificate first thing."

The meaning hit me all at once. My eyes went wide.

"Anthony, don't flatter yourself. Who wants to marry you? If you're so desperate to help her, go sell yourself. Why should I be Bianca Whitmore's stepping stone? She's not worth the dirt under my shoes."

His face went cold.

"Today is the second anniversary of the day Bianca and I met. I promised her I'd help her land that role so we could stand side by side in this industry."

"And after last night, faking your own kidnapping to smear her name, you owe her. Consider this your compensation."

He held up his phone, waving it lazily in front of me, a smile playing on his lips that carried no warmth at all.

"Vivienne, your grandfather back home has a heart condition, doesn't he?"

"If you don't cooperate, I'll leak your intimate photos across every platform on the internet. How do you think the old man will take it when he sees them? Think his heart can handle it?"

"And even if it doesn't kill him, you can't exactly afford his medical bills, can you?"

My fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms.

My parents died when I was young. My grandfather was the only family I had left.

He was getting older. His heart really was fragile. We'd been careful with him for years.

The slightest shock, the smallest provocation, could be the end.

And Anthony was shameless enough to use that against me.

I closed my eyes. My teeth ground together before the words came out.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Anthony tilted my chin up with one finger, satisfied. "Good girl. Go change into the dress." "Relax. This is a big-budget production. It's guaranteed to blow up. Once Bianca and I take home Best Actor and Best Actress, and after you've given me a child down the line, I'll consider going public with you." I swallowed the urge to slap him across the face. I walked into the restroom, expressionless. I didn't need to look to know Anthony had posted a bodyguard outside the door. But he was overthinking it. When you encountered filth, the best move wasn't to run. It was to clean it up. I pulled out the unassuming handmade pendant tucked inside my collar and pressed the hidden button. A few seconds later, Connor Henson's voice crackled through, lazy and laced with something sour. "What's going on, princess?" "Aren't you busy lowering yourself to babysit that dog of a man? And you still have time to call me?" My tone was flat. "I'm done playing." "He's handing me off to another man tonight. Trading me for his little girlfriend's resources." Half a second of silence on the other end. Then the crisp sound of glass shattering, and Connor's voice dropped to something ice-cold. "Give me the location. I'm coming to put that piece of trash in the ground."

After I changed and came out, the director they'd invited, Simon Finch, still hadn't arrived.

Anthony had someone bring me to the living room.

He had his arm around Bianca's waist, his voice dripping with indulgence. "Babe, don't worry. I already got Viv to agree to keep Director Finch company tonight."

"What I promised you, I deliver. Always."

Bianca squealed and threw her arms around him. The two of them kissed for a solid three minutes.

Catcalls and whistles erupted around them.

She turned to me, eyes glittering with contempt.

"Viv, after watching you throw yourself into the ocean yesterday, I thought you actually had some backbone."

"Turns out you still can't let go of the money. You'll even sleep with an old man for it. Tsk. Nobody's cheaper than you."

Bianca stepped closer and clicked her tongue.

"Fine, skip the makeup. But you couldn't even put on a little blush? Your face is white as a corpse. What if you scare Director Finch?"

She finished speaking, and Anthony flicked his wrist in a casual gesture.

Wyatt, the bodyguard standing behind me, understood instantly. His hand came up and cracked across my face. Twice.

Searing pain bloomed across my cheek.

Bianca tipped my chin up with one fingertip, inspecting me. "There we go. Finally some color."

"But given that little temper tantrum you threw last night, I'm not so sure you can keep Director Finch happy. Tell you what, let me test you first."

"Get on your knees and lick my shoes clean."

The room went quiet. People exchanged uneasy glances.

Even for someone who was just a lowly assistant, this was beyond degrading.

I looked at Anthony. "You have nothing to say?"

He hesitated. Bianca's lower lip jutted out in a wounded pout.

"Anthony, you said you'd help me land that role. That we were in this together. Did you forget?"

"Besides, I'm doing this for Viv's own good. She needs to learn obedience so she can take better care of you later. You can't have her throwing tantrums and making threats every time something doesn't go her way, right?"

"If you don't want me to do this, fine. I'll go on Twitter right now and post that yesterday's announcement was just a publicity stunt. That way nobody can accuse me of being a homewrecker."

Anthony rushed to comfort her, his voice soft and coaxing.

Then he turned to me, brow furrowed with irritation.

"It's just licking a shoe. It's not going to kill you. The whole reason I let you be my assistant was so you could take care of me and the people around me."

"Besides, Bianca's not wrong. That temper of yours does need training. The last thing I need is you causing problems for me down the road."

"Viv, be a good girl. Just help Bianca land that role, and I'll treat you better from now on."

My heart turned to still, dead water.

Back then, Anthony had been nothing. A nameless extra without so much as an agency to his name. Every day he'd squeeze in with hundreds of others outside the studio lots, desperate for even a few seconds of screen time. I was the one who pulled strings. Called in every favor I had. Got him signed to my family's own company, Starlight Media. I asked industry veterans to coach him under every pretense imaginable, teaching him technique and craft. Then I quietly funneled endorsements and prime roles his way, propping him up from the shadows. I never told him who I really was because I was afraid of bruising his pride.

Last summer, a single drama made him an overnight sensation. I never imagined that before he'd even found solid footing, he'd already turned his back on me.

Bianca sat in her chair, one leg crossed arrogantly over the other, her voice dripping with provocation.

"Come on, Viv. Don't just stand there. Get on your knees already."

"That mouth of yours is so talented, right? I bet you'll lick shoes even cleaner. I'm really looking forward to it."

She was getting back at me for calling her a two-faced gold digger last night.

But if I actually did this, it would be my grandfather who'd die from the humiliation.

I grabbed the glass of mulled wine still steaming on the table beside me and hurled it straight into Bianca's face.

"So sorry. The Langfords kneel for family, kneel for elders, kneel before God. We don't kneel for trash."

"As for licking your shoes, forget it. But disinfecting that nauseating face of yours? That I can do."

Bianca shrieked and collapsed into Anthony's arms.

"It burns! This dress and makeup were custom-made to impress Director Finch, and this bitch ruined everything!"

"Anthony, she's just jealous that you treat me well! You have to make her pay!"

Anthony was livid. He kicked me square in the stomach.

"Vivienne, you ungrateful wretch!"

"If I didn't still need that face of yours at night, I'd slash it to ribbons!"

"You think you're so proud? Get over here. I want her on the floor like a dog, licking up every drop of that wine until Bianca is satisfied!"

I doubled over, clutching my stomach, before I could even straighten up. Wyatt grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me forward. No matter how hard he pressed down on my shoulders, I locked my hands around the edge of the table and refused to bend my knees.

Anthony's expression twisted with impatience.

"Are your legs just for show? Kick her!"

Wyatt's eyes went cold. He drove his foot into the back of my knee.

I was about to go down.

Then a foot shot out from the side. A custom leather shoe, steady and sure, caught my knee before it hit the floor.

I looked up and met Connor Henson's face. The kind of face sculptors dreamed about and never finished.

His hands were still in his pockets, the corner of his mouth barely lifted. His eyes were as cold as his voice.

"Who's got the nerve to make a princess kneel?"