Chapter 3

He grabbed the ring off my index finger and yanked it off.

The cheap band snapped, leaving a deep slice that oozed blood down my skin.

"The necklace I bought you," he barked.

With a single jerk, Lawrence snapped the thin chain around my throat. The wire cut into my skin, dripping dark drops onto the floor.

"The clothes I bought you."

He ripped my blouse down the middle. Cold air slapped my bare skin, leaving me shuddering as the men in the room ogled me without shame.

I wrapped my arms around myself, hollowed out by the sheer contempt in his eyes.

Every gift he had ever given me was a cheap knockoff of what he bought my twin. The lowest quality, the trash material.

"Fakes belong with fakes," Lawrence sneered. "This garbage is all you're worth."

Everything on my body wasn't even worth fifty bucks combined.

What the hell did I actually owe him?

I stood there, weeping in silence. Lawrence reached out and caught a single tear on his fingertip, only to flick it away as if it burned him.

"You're the one who wanted to leave with nothing," he spat. "What are you crying about? You think you can use that face to play hard to get?"

He pulled a young woman into his lap.

She shared a faint resemblance to my sister, maybe sixty percent, but she was younger and unblemished.

"Serena Lucas looks like her too," he murmured, staring right through me. "Younger. Fresher. You're the veteran here, Clara Hall. Why don't you give her a live demonstration on how to serve me before she takes your place?"

Before I could react, he grabbed my wrists and pinned me down onto the leather sofa.

The men in the room burst into dark, drunken cheers.

"Lawrence, man, you doing a live show? That's fucking wild!"

Lawrence didn't say a word. He ignored my thrashing and pulled down my shoulder strap with a cold, mechanical movement.

"See this?" he told the girl, keeping me pinned beneath him. "This is the style I like."

One hand gripped my thigh, forcing my leg up. "And this is the position I like."

My arm swung on pure instinct. The crack of my palm across his face echoed through the entire room.

Dead silence fell.

Lawrence's eyes flushed instantly crimson. He glared down at me, his jaw trembling with rage.

"Who the hell are you playing pure for?" he growled through his teeth. "When you drugged my drink and crawled into my bed, you were burning for it, weren't you?"

I dug my nails into my palms until the skin split, my entire body shaking out of control.

Lawrence shoved me off him with an expression of pure disgust.

"Boring as hell. She's all yours, boys. Have fun."

He wrapped his arm around the young girl and walked out without looking back once.

He left me half-naked, trapped in a room full of dangerous, intoxicated men.

---

"Lawrence Peterson!" I screamed, my voice shredding from my throat. "Lawrence Peterson... don't leave me here! Lawrence!"

The door slammed shut. He didn't turn around.

"Lawrence doesn't want you anymore, sweetheart," a heavy man slurred, stepping toward the sofa. "Why not stay with me? I guarantee I'll treat you better than he ever did."

I spat directly into his face.

His expression twisted into rage. He threw a heavy, ringing slap across my cheek, sending my head snapping back.

"Stop acting like you're above everyone!" he spat, wiping his face. "You're just trash who drugged a guy to get into his bed. Lawrence got sick of you and threw you out. I'm doing you a favor by touching you."

I bit my lower lip so hard the taste of copper filled my mouth.

Years ago, someone had spiked Lawrence's drink at a corporate gala.

I had chased off the people trying to take advantage of him, but in his delirium, he had pulled me into his arms.

His kiss had burned against my skin. I knew I should have pulled away, but I let myself drown in it.

When he woke up the next morning, he convinced himself it was all my sick trick. He forgot that he was the one who refused to let me go that night.

"What's the matter? Guilty?"

Seeing me freeze, the man assumed he hit a nerve. He pinned my shoulders to the cushions and fumbled frantically with his belt buckle.

"Stop it! Hold on, stop!" another man called out, shoving a glowing phone screen into his face.

The man's face turned completely dark. He glared down at me, his breath hitching in sudden frustration.

He hauled off and cracked another hard slap across my face.

"Lawrence is playing us for fools!" he cursed, spitting on the carpet. "Who the fuck does he think he is?"

He threw two more slaps across my mouth for good measure.

"Just a used-up bitch anyway," he muttered bitterly, stepping back. "Like I would actually want your trash."

He turned away, but right before he left, he turned back and kicked me hard in the ribs.