“Here,” Vincent says, pulling out a chair for me at a table set for two. “The servers should be here soon. But we can have a drink while we wait.”

“I don’t drink,” I say as I place the white linen napkin in my lap.

“It’s just a gesture, Harper. I’m sure your father gave you sips of champagne at dinner.”

“Never.”

Vincent sits across from me. The table is small, so he’s close. Too close, I think. Too close for me to keep my distance from the way he’s trying to make me feel. He’s trying his best to make himself irresistible, and I’d like to try my best to resist him. But when I look across the table, I see James. His green eyes. His dark hair. His five o’clock shadow.

“Tonight will be your first, then,” Vincent says, filling my flute with the light honey-colored liquid. It bubbles up, bursting into the air so that even from my seat I can smell the fruitiness of the vintage. He lifts his glass and holds it towards me. I reciprocate the gesture. “To all our firsts. I hope we have a lifetime of them.”

I squint my eyes a little, but he pretends not to notice as he takes a sip. My glass is set back down with no drink.

“I prefer water, thank you. Do we have some water? In a bottle. With a sealed cap.”

“Of course. The servers will bring it with the meal. Now tell me, do you like the dress? Because I like it very much.”

“What do you like about it?” I’m genuinely interested.

“What’s not to like?” he asks back with a chuckle. “The color makes you look like a woodland fairy. It plays against the amber of your eyes, making them look like two shining jewels. It shows off the curve of your shoulders. The bronze of your skin. And while it’s sexy as all fucking hell, you’re showing very little skin. This is a dress I’d take you out in public in. A dress that would allow others to see your beauty without giving them too much of an eyeful. It is, in fact, perfect. Now that you’re wearing it, of course.”

“Wow. That is some line of bullshit you have there, Vincent. James would say, Harper, you’re just as fuckable with no clothes on. But this dress just makes me want to rip it off you.”

Vincent stares at me.

I stare at him. I have to tuck my smile down, but he’s not having any trouble keeping his at bay.

“Do you want me to treat you like James, Harper? Do you want me to fuck your face in a hallway?”

My whole body goes hot with embarrassment. I’d forgotten he said he saw that. “How do you know he did that? Were you stalking me?”

“No,” he growls. “I was watching James, and James was watching you. He had that little scene on tape in his apartment.”

I can’t breathe. That’s how much this stuns me. “He did not.”

“It’s still there now. He never cleaned the place. He’s gone, Harper. He’s lost it. He’s careless and stupid and what he did to you”—Vincent stops to shake his head—“it was sick.”

Sick. The word reverberates around in my head.

Am I sick because I was turned on from it?

I look down at my lap just as the servers appear from the path. There’s a whole crew of them, which is weird since I didn’t see a single soul either time as I walked through the house. They set down platters with covers on them. And the water arrives. A pitcher is placed on a side table, since the table is so small it really can’t fit. They did not bring bottled water.

Two servers lift off our plate covers simultaneously and the rich aroma of lobster and butter fills my nostrils.

God, I’m famished. I practically salivate as I stare at the meal. The server attending Vincent places a bib around his neck, while the one attending me does the same.

When they’re done, Vincent says, “Thank you,” and they leave us alone.

I am hungry and I really do want to eat. But I’m still thinking about James having a video of me in that hallway.

“I’m sorry,” Vincent says. His tone is hushed and the anger is gone. “I shouldn’t have told you about the videos. I’m just tired of hearing about him. When you disappeared last year, Harper, I was lost. I mean, I understand that it’s wrong the way they set us up like that. But I hit the jackpot with you. I wanted you. Want,” he corrects himself. “I want you. And then your father told me I had to wait it out. They were keeping tabs on you, but no one was allowed to go in. I was reluctant. I was crazy with worry. But as the months passed you settled in. Nothing seemed to be happening. It really did appear that you wanted to be alone.”

I look up at him, knowing where this is going.

“But then James showed up and I was livid. That he could walk into your life after I’d given you all that space, and take—” Vincent stops talking. He shakes his head and then he looks down at his food and begins to eat.

“Take what?” I ask.

“Never mind.”

“My virginity?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Your self-respect.”

Chapter Seventeen

Harper

That stuns me silent.

Vincent eats a few more bites. In silence.

All I see in my mind’s eye is James straddling my hips in the hallway as he positions his dick over my face.

Your self-respect.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. Again.” Vincent reaches across the table and puts his hand on mine. “Are you OK?”

I nod. Smile. Nod again with a bigger smile. “Fine. It’s just…” I need to change the subject. Like now. “I’m not sure what’s going on here. Is there some sort of… contract?”

All my life my father has used that word. The contract needs to be fulfilled. The contract needs to be negotiated. The contract has been violated.

Violated. I have only ever heard that mentioned once and it was the day Nick left. Right before we turned eighteen.

Vincent squints his eyes at me. As if he’s suspicious. And that immediately makes me suspicious. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, you say you’re my promise. Aren’t there contracts in place for promises?”

“Harper,” he says in a tone that comes off as admonishing. “Promising girls to men on their eighteenth birthdays isn’t even legal. Why would we need a contract that can’t be upheld?”

I can think of a dozen reasons right off the top of my head. But the most obvious is to hold it over someone when they screw up. See, one might say, I have your daughter promised to blahedy-blah. That was a nice match, hmm? But if you don’t fulfill your end of the deal, she gets a fifty-year-old pervert from this pile of filth here.