Three days after the penthouse.
Novalee sat at her desk at the storage facility, staring at nothing. Her body still ached—deep, internal pain that throbbed with every movement. The bite marks on her breasts had scabbed over but still hurt under her bra. She'd taken four ibuprofen this morning and it barely touched the pain.
She hadn't slept more than an hour at a time since Wednesday night. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that penthouse. Back under Dante. Back watching Atlas's hands on her body while Dante smoked and watched.
Back being used over and over and over until dawn.
James knew something was desperately wrong. He'd tried to get her to see a doctor about the "nightmares." Had offered to take time off work to stay home with her. Had held her while she cried and a
