Janet

I glanced over at Shawn, sleeping peacefully beside me.
My God—she was beautiful. I never knew being with a woman could feel so right. My body still ached for her, but she needed to rest.

So did I.

Still, I needed to tell Gil everything.

I slipped out of bed carefully, pulled on one of Shawn's T-shirts, and padded into the living room as I dialed Gil's number. I lifted the phone to my ear—and froze.

"René."

All the air left my lungs.

Gil was on the other end of the line, saying hello over and over.

"Hang it up," René said, stepping toward me.

I did.

He shifted the gun resting at his side just enough for me to see it. Standing that close, I could smell the alcohol on him—sharp, overwhelming. He'd practically bathed in it.

"René, what do you want?"

"I don't think you're in a position to ask questions." He lifted the gun and used it to brush my hair away from my face. My breath stuttered out. "Let's go."

He grabbed me by the collar of the T-shirt and dragged me toward the bedroom.

My phone vibrated in my hand—Gil, calling again. Sixth time.

He knows something's wrong.
Please hurry, Gil.

René yanked me to the side of the bed where Shawn lay sleeping. She was naked, vulnerable, half-exposed. I instinctively moved toward her.

He grabbed my hair.

"Don't fucking test me, Janet."

He looked straight into my eyes—then raised the gun and pointed it at Shawn's head.

"No," I whispered, my voice shaking. "René, please. I'm begging you. Leave her out of this. I'll do whatever you want. I'll leave with you right now. Just don't hurt her."

He looked down at Shawn, then back at me.

"You are never to see her again."

"I have a contract with her," I said quickly. "For the show. I could get sued, René. We'll finish out the contract, and then I'll fire her. She's done."

"If you fuck with me," he said calmly, lifting the gun again, "I will kill her."

"I'm yours," I said, forcing the words out. "I won't see her again. Okay?"

I reached up, touched his face, then his arm—drawing his attention away from her. Slowly, he lowered the gun.

"Get your things," he said. "We're leaving."

I moved fast. I grabbed what I could and followed him out, wearing nothing but Shawn's T-shirt and my sneakers.

We got into the car.

The driver pulled away.

Janet

I glanced over at Shawn, sleeping peacefully beside me.
My God—she was beautiful. I never knew being with a woman could feel so right. My body still ached for her, but she needed to rest.

So did I.

Still, I needed to tell Gil everything.

I slipped out of bed carefully, pulled on one of Shawn's T-shirts, and padded into the living room as I dialed Gil's number. I lifted the phone to my ear—and froze.

"René."

All the air left my lungs.

Gil was on the other end of the line, saying hello over and over.

"Hang it up," René said, stepping toward me.

I did.

He shifted the gun resting at his side just enough for me to see it. Standing that close, I could smell the alcohol on him—sharp, overwhelming. He'd practically bathed in it.

"René, what do you want?"

"I don't think you're in a position to ask questions." He lifted the gun and used it to brush my hair away from my face. My breath stuttered out. "Let's go."

He grabbed me by the collar of the T-shirt and dragged me toward the bedroom.

My phone vibrated in my hand—Gil, calling again. Sixth time.

He knows something's wrong.
Please hurry, Gil.

René yanked me to the side of the bed where Shawn lay sleeping. She was naked, vulnerable, half-exposed. I instinctively moved toward her.

He grabbed my hair.

"Don't fucking test me, Janet."

He looked straight into my eyes—then raised the gun and pointed it at Shawn's head.

"No," I whispered, my voice shaking. "René, please. I'm begging you. Leave her out of this. I'll do whatever you want. I'll leave with you right now. Just don't hurt her."

He looked down at Shawn, then back at me.

"You are never to see her again."

"I have a contract with her," I said quickly. "For the show. I could get sued, René. We'll finish out the contract, and then I'll fire her. She's done."

"If you fuck with me," he said calmly, lifting the gun again, "I will kill her."

"I'm yours," I said, forcing the words out. "I won't see her again. Okay?"

I reached up, touched his face, then his arm—drawing his attention away from her. Slowly, he lowered the gun.

"Get your things," he said. "We're leaving."

I moved fast. I grabbed what I could and followed him out, wearing nothing but Shawn's T-shirt and my sneakers.

We got into the car.

The driver pulled away.