“Let’s go grab a shower, and I’ll give you a massage. That should help relax you.”

  “Uh, I don’t think so.” She kicked off her high heels, leaving them beside the door instead of putting them in the shoe closet, which she normally did. “I don’t mean to be rude, hon, but I just want to soak in a bath and hit the sheets.”

  “Alone?” He tried to ignore the constriction in his chest. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

  “Yeah, alone.” She pulled the elastic from her hair as she made her way down the hall, massaging her scalp. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a brutal few days, and I need a little time to process.”

  “Did you negotiate Bell’s contract?” he asked, following her into the kitchen. She opened a bottle of red wine and filled a glass more than half full. “Or did you hit a snag?”

  “He got exactly what he wanted,” she said, taking a swig of wine, followed by another.

  “That’s a good thing, right?” He was stunned by how vacant her eyes looked. She stared at him as though she wasn’t even seeing him.

  “Is it a good thing?” She finished the wine and poured herself another glass.

  “Baby, did something happen while you were there? You seem kind of off.”

  She rolled her shoulders before squeezing the back of her neck. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Dylan moved in behind her and kneaded her shoulders before she stepped out of his reach. “What the hell? I get the feeling you don’t even want me to touch you. Why?”

  “I told you,” she said quietly, hanging her head, “I’m just tired. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave, D.”

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that more than fatigue was making her act this way, but it wouldn’t do any good to push her. She’d talk to him about whatever was bothering her when she was ready.

  “Fine. Call me tomorrow.” He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her that whatever it was, he was willing to listen, but he walked away instead. She needed solitude more than she needed him.

  ***

  Sabrina sat in the bathtub, letting her tears stream down unchecked. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to cry since it happened. She still couldn’t believe it. Her client had raped her.

  She’d invited him up to her hotel suite to talk strategy before her meeting with his team’s management the following day because it wasn’t smart to discuss the specifics in a crowded hotel bar or restaurant. She tried to laugh off his flirting, not wanting to offend him, but when she began to feel uncomfortable, she asked him to leave. He got angry and took what he wanted, claiming she’d asked for it.

  She’d fought back, even tried to scream, so he shoved a washcloth in her mouth and tied her hands behind her back with his necktie. She’d been helpless and terrified. She kept telling herself it couldn’t be happening, that it was a nightmare and she’d wake up. But every time she’d woken up since, she’d been forced to admit the nightmare was real. She couldn’t escape it.

  She hated the way she’d treated Dylan. He’d been trying to help, and she shut him down. She knew she’d hurt his feelings, but she couldn’t bear to be touched, not when the memories of that vicious attack were still so fresh in her mind. She wanted to believe it would get easier with time, but she couldn’t imagine ever allowing a man to touch her again. Not even Dylan.

  Her cell phone, which she’d left on the edge of her tub, rang, and she cursed softly when she had to dry her hands to answer it. After checking the call display, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her father was finally returning her call. If anyone could advise her on how to handle the potential media circus that would surely follow her client’s arrest, it would be him.

  “Daddy,” she said softly, “I’m glad you called.”

  “Sorry it took me so long, princess. Your mama and I were at a fundraiser for the mayor. It’s that time again.” He chuckled. “The mayor’s calling on all his friends to dig deep to ensure he gets re-elected. How did your trip go? Did you get the team to give Bell the contract he was after?”

  Sabrina eased out of the bathtub slowly. Her muscles still ached, and her body still bore bruises. He had been too smart to leave marks on her face, though she suspected he would have if he’d had the chance. Rob Bell was a savage who didn’t care what he had to do to get what he wanted.

  “It… I…” She couldn’t talk business when her whole world was falling apart. “Um, something happened. Something awful.” She sat on the small stool tucked under the vanity where she put on her makeup. She wrapped the towel around her like a cape, trying to ward off the chill, but it was pointless. She felt as if ice ran through her veins.

  “What is it, sweetheart?” he asked. “You know you can tell me anything.”

  Her father had always been larger than life, her strong shoulder to cry on. He’d always tried to protect her, warning her to watch out for guys like Bell, but she’d let her guard down. What had she been thinking, inviting him to her hotel room? Ever since the assault, she’d flipped between chastising herself, hating him, and feeling shameful and dirty.

  “Bell… he… uh…” There was nothing she could say to soften the blow, so she whispered, “He sexually assaulted me.” For some reason, that was easier for her to say than rape.

  “He what?” her father bellowed.

  She cringed, holding her iPhone away from her ear. “Please calm down. Think of your blood pressure.” He’d had a slight heart attack last year, and she didn’t want her news to cause another one.

  “I don’t give a goddamn about my blood pressure! Tell me exactly what happened!”

  Sabrina blanched. There was no way she could burden her father with the horrific details. She couldn’t even stand to think about them. “I invited him up to my hotel suite to discuss strategy before the meeting with—”

  “That was stupid! How many times have I told you not to do that sort of thing?”

  The last thing she needed was for her father to remind her she’d made a mistake. If she’d met Bell in a public place, it never would have happened. Unless he’d found another way to get her alone.

  “I know it was stupid,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically timid. She looked in the mirror and noted her limp hair falling around her face, casting shadows. Her eyes looked vacant, almost sunken. She felt as though she was looking at a ghost instead of her reflection. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know why she was apologizing to her father. She just knew she was sorry, so very, very sorry it had ever happened.

  “Never mind about that,” he said impatiently. “Was there any way he could have believed it was consensual? Were you drinking?”

  “You know I don’t mix business and alcohol,” she said, feeling her back stiffen. She didn’t appreciate his tone, nor the implication that she had done something to invite this. “He tied my hands and gagged me. Unless you’re into alternative lifestyles, I don’t think you could mistake that for consensual sex. That bastard raped me! Do you hear me? He raped me!”

  Anger felt better than fear. It felt better than dread and anguish and sadness and all the other emotions she’d been dealing with since it happened.

  “Calm down,” her father said, his tone softening. “I believe you.”

  “I went to the hospital to get—”

  “You didn’t go to the police, did you? Please tell me you didn’t go to the police.”

  Sabrina was shocked. She’d assumed her father would want her to go to the police right away so the man who hurt her could be locked up. “No, I wanted to talk to you first. I knew you’d have a better idea how to handle the fallout when it goes public.”

  “There will be no fallout,” he said emphatically. “It’s not going to go public.”

  “What are you talking about?” Disbelief seeped into her voice. “He can’t get away with this.”

  “He won’t get away with a goddamn thing. I’ll be on the next plane to Tampa with a gun and warning that if he ever touches you again, he’ll get a bullet between the eyes.”

  “Are you crazy?” Sabrina got up and paced her large bathroom. “You can’t board a plane with a gun.”

  “Fine, I’ll leave the gun at home, but believe me, he’ll get my message.”

  “I don’t think that’s the best way to handle it,” she said, clasping the towel under her chin. “I think I should go to the police and let them deal with him. The hospital did a rape kit, so we have the evidence to press charges. I still have bruises and—”

  “Weren’t you listening to me?” he asked, his voice deadly calm. “I’ll deal with Bell. That bastard’s not going to ruin a company and reputation I spent a lifetime building.”

  Oh God, the nausea that had plagued her since that night was back with a vengeance. “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you know what will happen when this goes public? The players will take his side. They’ll assume you led him on.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I know you didn’t, but what I think doesn’t matter. What matters is what our clients think.”

  “They’re my clients,” she felt compelled to remind him. “Those guys know me. They know I don’t mess around with my clients.”

  “They may be your clients now, but don’t forget I was the one who built that company from nothing. It’s my legacy, and I won’t have it destroyed by some over-sexed beast without the good sense to keep it in his pants.”

  Sabrina could scarcely believe her father was more concerned about the business than her. She’d expected him to understand, to be compassionate, to invite her to spend the night at their house or offer to stay with her if she wasn’t comfortable staying alone. She never expected this.

  “There’s more.” She couldn’t avoid telling him about her relationship with Dylan now. They’d kept it under wraps for a while, but if the news of her attack broke, the nature of her relationship with Dylan would be called into question too. “I’m seeing someone, someone you know. I don’t want him to get caught up in this.” Though she didn’t see how that could happen if they decided not to press charges.

  “Who is it?” he asked, sounding angry. “Please don’t tell me it’s a client. You know that’s—”

  “It’s a former client,” she said quickly. “Dylan Clark.”

  “Clark… you’re dating Clark?” He seemed to process the news before he said, “You haven’t told him about what happened with Bell, have you?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Don’t.”

  She hated the idea of keeping secrets from Dylan, but if he found out what Bell had done to her, he would go beyond making threats. He’d take action that would likely land him behind bars, and she couldn’t let that happen. In this case, her father was right. She had to keep Dylan in the dark about what had happened, for his own good.

  “I’ll take care of everything,” her father assured her. “Just try to get a good night’s sleep, and if you need to talk more, just call me. Oh, and honey, don’t talk to your mother about this. We wouldn’t want to upset her. You know how she worries about you.”

  “Right.” Her mother thought she was crazy to run in the same circles as athletes who were notorious for partying like rock stars. For the first time, she wondered whether her mother was right. But she refused to allow one incident to steal her passion. She loved her career. It was her life, her identity. Most of the guys she represented were friends. She felt safe with them—didn’t she? Oh God, she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

  “And don’t mention this to your brother. You know what a hothead he can be.”

  “Right.” Dalton would solve the problem the same way Dylan would—with his fists.

  “I’ll let you know what happens when I see Bell.”

  “K.” She didn’t wait for her father to say good-bye before she hung up. Sinking to the floor with her back against the tub, she let her head fall into her hands as she processed what had just happened.

  Her father had coerced her into taking a vow of silence. Was she crazy?

  Chapter Three

  Sabrina was at Dylan’s parents’ house for Sunday dinner several weeks later, trying to pretend that everything was normal. But it wasn’t, and she was beginning to wonder if normalcy was just an illusion. Maybe she would never feel normal again. Maybe this horrible event would plague her for the rest of her life, ruining her, making her feel ashamed and isolated for as long as she kept her secret.

  “Would you mind grabbing the pie out of the oven?” Mrs. Clark snapped. “I’ve asked you twice now. The damned thing is gonna burn.” She glared at her soapy hands, buried in dish water. “I’d get it myself, but—”

  “I’m sorry.” Sabrina put a pot holder on before reaching into the oven for the strawberry rhubarb pie. “I guess my mind was wandering.”

  “Hmm,” she said, raising an eyebrow as she gave Sabrina a pointed look. “I’ve noticed it does that a lot. Even when you’re here, you’re not really here.”

  Sabrina knew she wasn’t Mrs. Clark’s favorite person, probably because Dylan had pursued her for so long to no avail. Mrs. Clark likely assumed that Sabrina thought she was too good for Dylan, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. “I’m sorry. I’ve just got a lot going on.”

  “It’s always work with you, isn’t it? Do you ever think of anything else? Anyone else?”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” She heard the hostility in the older woman’s voice and knew what was coming. It was obvious to anyone that Sabrina was keeping Dylan at arm’s length and denying his repeated bids for affection. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to get close to him again—she just couldn’t.

  “Sure, you do.” Veronica wiped her hands on a dish towel before facing Sabrina. “I know I should mind my own business, but when my son’s happiness is at stake, it’s hard to keep my mouth shut.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Not that Sabrina wanted to invite her opinion. She’d never been a crier, but lately her emotions had been skimming the surface all day every day. She feared if Dylan’s mother tore a strip off her, she’d break down and cry right in front of her.

  “He has a heart of gold, that boy. Sure, he sowed his fair share of wild oats when he was younger. Things got a little crazy when he signed that big, fat contract and got his first taste of celebrity, but he’s settled down a lot since then, and I do believe you’re the reason.”

  Sabrina couldn’t handle hearing that, but she knew she couldn’t say anything to shut the woman up without offending her. So she bit her lip and prayed she could hold in her tears until she could lock herself in the bathroom and let them flow without embarrassing herself.

  “He’s in love with you. Surely you must know that.”

  She didn’t trust herself to speak, so Sabrina merely nodded.

  “And how do you feel about him?”

  Remaining silent was easier than admitting that she was head over heels in love with Dylan but could never be with him the way he needed her. Especially now.

  “I see.” Mrs. Clark glared at Sabrina, fisting her hand on her hip. “You really are a selfish little bitch, you know that?”

  Sabrina’s gaze hit the floor.

  “I’ve never met anyone more self-absorbed. You know how much that man loves you, that he would do anything for you, and you keep stringing him along. You know damn well you don’t love him! What kind of woman does a thing like that?”

  But I do love your son. “I don’t know.”

  “He told me you don’t even want kids, don’t ever intend to get married. Is that true?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then why the hell are you wasting his time? You must know how much he wants a family. For the love of God, do him a favor and let him go so he can find someone who wants the same things he does.” Her voice softened when she said, “Please, if you care about him at all, let him go.”

  ***

  Dylan felt the gap between them turning into a gulf, but he didn’t know how to repair it. Sabrina had been even more sullen and withdrawn during dinner. On the way back from his parents’ house, he had to know why.

  He reached across the console for her hand. Her hand was ice cold, and it felt stiff, as though she couldn’t force her fingers to relax. “You’ve been kind of quiet.” Not that he could claim that was new. She hadn’t been herself since her trip to Florida. “Did my mama say something to upset you, baby?”

  “She just spoke the truth,” Sabrina said quietly, staring out the window. “That I’m a self-absorbed bitch who doesn’t deserve her son.”

  “She said—” Dylan slammed on his brakes, veering to the side of the road. Thankfully it was late and the country road was deserted, or he might have caused an accident. “What? She didn’t really say that, did she?”

  “Yes, she did.” Sabrina closed her eyes, and her voice trembled. “And you know what? She’s right. I don’t deserve you.”

  He couldn’t stand seeing her like that. All he wanted to do was help her, but she seemed determined to keep him at a safe distance. “Don’t say that, sweetheart. We’ve come so far in the last few months. I thought we were making progress. Tell me what happened in Florida.” Her eyes darted to his, and he saw genuine fear mixed with dread.

  “What makes you think something happened in Florida?”

  That was when he knew he was on the right path. “You haven’t been the same since you got back.” He had a feeling he knew what had happened, but every time he thought about it, his stomach roiled. “Talk to me. Tell me what the hell’s going on with you.”

  “I can’t.” She grimaced before withdrawing her hand and clasping it in her lap. “I’m sorry.”

  “You slept with him, didn’t you?” It was the only logical explanation for why she hadn’t let him touch her since she’d gotten back from that trip.

  “What? Who?”