I closed my eyes and drew a long breath.

For thirty-five hundred dollars a month. For survival. What was dignity worth?

I lowered my head, picked up the rag, and leaned toward Vivienne's shoe.

"Not with the rag."

Vivienne's smile was venomous.

"I want you to use your fingers. Pick it off, piece by piece."

The jeering around us swelled louder.

I reached out. My hand was an inch from the shoe when a polished leather oxford swung in from nowhere and kicked my bucket across the floor.

Dirty water erupted in every direction, spattering Vivienne from hem to collar.

"Aah!"

She shrieked and stumbled backward.

"Howard! What the hell!"

Howard looked down at me, his expression utterly blank.

"Clumsy and slow. Watching you work kills my appetite."

He turned to Vivienne, something unreadable shifting behind his eyes.

"Tonight's engagement banquet is short a server for the wine. Send her."

Vivienne blinked. Then a knowing smile crept across her face.

"You always did know how to play. Making her watch us get engaged is so much better than making her scrub shoes."

She bent low, her lips brushing my ear.

"Remember to wear the staff uniform, dear sister. I arranged a little surprise just for you."

Vivienne had the floor supervisor issue me a uniform personally.

It was a black dress with the entire back cut away, the hem barely covering the tops of my thighs. The slightest bend would leave nothing to the imagination.

"Isn't that Stella Graves? She used to act so high and mighty. Now she's selling herself?"

"Got kicked out ages ago. She's just a waitress now."

"God, those legs though. Always thought she was a knockout. If I could get my hands on her for one night..."

Vivienne stood in the center of the grand hall on Howard's arm, basking in congratulations from every guest in the room. Howard remained detached as ever, taking the occasional sip of wine, but his gaze kept drifting, almost involuntarily, toward the corner where I stood.

Every time his eyes swept over me, goosebumps prickled up my spine.

"Hey, waitress. Why is this wine warm?"

A balding middle-aged man stepped into my path. His hand was already reaching for my waist.

I flinched back on instinct.

"Oh, playing hard to get?"

Samuel Lambert's face twisted with irritation, and he seized my wrist.

"Everyone here knows exactly what you are. How much for a night? Name your price."

"Let go."

I tried to wrench free.

"Drop the act! Back when you were the Graves family princess, I wouldn't have dared. But now? You're nothing but yesterday's trash!"

The crowd watched like it was dinner theater. Not a single person stepped forward. Someone let out a long, low whistle.

That was when Vivienne glided over.

"Mr. Lambert, what's the matter? Did this server forget her manners and upset you?"

Samuel's scowl melted into an oily grin.

"Oh, Miss Graves, I just wanted a drink, and this girl couldn't be bothered to serve me."

Vivienne turned to me. Every trace of warmth vanished from her face.

"Stella. Mr. Lambert is one of the Graves family's biggest clients. You think you can give him attitude?"

She snatched an unopened bottle of red wine from a passing attendant and slammed it down on the table.

"Since Mr. Lambert wants a drink, you're going to down this entire bottle. Consider it your apology."

It was a high-proof red. Forget the whole bottle; half of it would be enough to tear a stomach lining apart.

"I'm a server. I don't drink with guests."

Crack.

Vivienne shook out her hand, lip curled in disgust.

"You don't know when to take a gift. Fine. You won't drink? Then get on your knees and lick Mr. Lambert's shoes clean. Do that, and I'll let you go."

Every eye in the room locked onto me, waiting to see how the once-untouchable Stella Graves would be brought to her knees.

Half my face burned like it was on fire.

Howard stood just a few steps away, swirling the wine in his glass.

He didn't say a word. He just watched me with that half-smile that wasn't really a smile at all.

In that moment, the last flicker of hope inside me died.

Fine.

Fine.

I grabbed the bottle from the table, snatched up the corkscrew, and twisted the cork free in one clean motion.

"If I finish this, we're done here. Right?"

I stared straight at Vivienne.

"Of course." She folded her arms, her face alight with the look of someone settling in to enjoy a show.

I tipped my head back and pressed the bottle to my lips.

I didn't stop for air. The wine poured down my throat in heavy, unbroken gulps. Red rivulets escaped the corners of my mouth and trailed down to my collarbones.

The crowd around me started jeering. Some clapped. Some cheered.

Halfway through, my stomach revolted. A violent wave of nausea surged up my throat.

I clenched my jaw and forced it back down. Tears squeezed from the corners of my eyes.

Finally, the bottle was empty.

I slammed it down on the table so hard the glasses rattled.

"Done."

My body swayed, but I locked my knees and refused to fall.

"Satisfied, Miss Graves?"

Vivienne blinked, caught off guard for half a second.

"Not bad. You can hold your liquor."

She let out a soft laugh, then drove her foot into my ankle.

I lost my balance completely, pitching forward with nothing to catch me.

Crash.

The champagne tower came down in a cascade of shattering glass.

I landed on the wreckage. Shards sliced into my palms and knees, and I felt the sharp, wet sting of a dozen cuts opening at once.

Before I could even push myself up, Vivienne's voice split the air in a shrill, panicked scream.

"My necklace! My pink diamond necklace is gone!"

She jabbed a finger at me where I lay sprawled on the floor.

"It was her! She threw herself down on purpose so she could steal my necklace in the chaos!"

I lifted my head through the searing pain. Howard's voice cut through the noise.

"If something's missing, then search her."

His gaze swept over me, deliberate and pointed.

"Right here. Be thorough."

A security guard seized my arm and hauled me upright, not caring that glass was still embedded in my palms.

"Let go of me! I didn't steal anything!"

The alcohol burned like acid in my stomach. Cold sweat poured down my back.

"Didn't steal it? Well, strip her down and we'll know for sure, won't we?"

Vivienne stepped up onto the raised platform.

"With that dress, there's really only one place she could be hiding something, isn't there?"

A cluster of men in the crowd let out lewd, ugly laughter.

"That's right. The former Graves heiress, a real socialite. Who knows what kind of special tastes she's picked up."

The guard's hand reached for my neckline, already barely holding together.

Riiip.

Black fabric slid away, exposing a wide stretch of skin mottled with bruises.

I screamed and curled into myself, pressing both hands against my chest, trying to cover what was left.

My eyes found Howard through the blur of tears.

He had once sworn, "Anyone who touches a hair on your head, I'll destroy them."

Now he sat with a glass of wine, leaning toward the person beside him, murmuring something in low conversation. He didn't so much as glance in my direction.

"What are you waiting for? Strip her!"

Vivienne's voice cracked with impatience.

The guard grinned and reached for the hem of my dress.

"Hold on."

Howard rose and walked toward me, unhurried. The crowd parted for him without being asked.

He stopped in front of me. The polished toe of his shoe nudged a bloodied shard of glass out of the way.

"Howard, this thief stole my necklace." Vivienne's lips pressed into a thin, displeased line.

"You want every person in this city laughing at the Graves name?" Howard glanced at her, his voice flat and cold. "Does the family want their stock price to open tomorrow, or not?"

Vivienne's mouth opened, then closed.

"So we just... let her go?"

"Take her upstairs. My room."

Howard bent down, his face inches from mine.

"I'll handle the interrogation personally."

Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist, heedless of the glass still buried in my palm, and dragged me toward the elevator.

I stumbled after him, dozens of gloating eyes burning into my back.

The elevator doors slid shut. Howard didn't loosen his grip on my wrist. If anything, his fingers tightened.

"That hurts..."

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

He slammed me against the elevator wall, caging me with his body.

"Hurts?"

His gaze was dark, predatory, fixed on my bare shoulders.

"Stella, is your spine made of jelly? Someone tells you to kneel and you kneel? Someone tells you to drink and you drink?"

I swallowed against the searing pain in my stomach.

"If I don't kneel, are you going to lend me the money? Howard, I need to eat. I need to pay rent. I need to survive. I don't have the luxury of pride."

"So you'd rather sell yourself?"

He reached up and yanked off his tie, winding it roughly around my still-bleeding palm.

"Selling myself to your fiancée beats selling myself to some old man."

I glared right back at him.

"At least she only humiliated me. She didn't assault me."

Ding.

The elevator reached the top floor.

He seized my arm again and strode toward the executive suite, his long legs eating up the corridor. The moment we were inside, he threw me into the bathroom. Into the bathtub.

Hard porcelain slammed against my spine, sending numbness radiating through my back.

He turned on the shower. Ice-cold water crashed over my head, and my whole body convulsed with tremors.

"Clean yourself up."

I curled into a ball under the freezing stream, watching my blood turn the water pink.

"Will being clean prove I didn't steal the necklace?"

Howard let out a cold laugh. He reached into his pocket, pulled out something that caught the light, and tossed it casually into the bathwater.

The pink diamond necklace. The one Vivienne had claimed was "missing."

"The necklace was with me the whole time."

I stared at him, unable to process what I was seeing.

"You... you did this on purpose? You watched me get humiliated. Watched them nearly strip me naked..."

"If I hadn't, how else would I get to see you beg like a dog?"

Howard crouched beside the tub and reached over to turn off the shower.

"Stella, remember this feeling. You owe me this."

He stood.

"You're sleeping in this bathtub tonight. Tomorrow morning at seven, I want to see you in a mascot costume, greeting guests at the hotel entrance."

"What costume?"

A sick feeling coiled in my gut.

Howard turned and walked out of the bathroom.

"Since you love playing the dog so much, you might as well commit to the role."

At six in the morning, pounding on the door jolted me awake.

Every inch of my body felt like it had been run over by a truck. My head was swimming, and my palm, soaked in water all night, was swollen and ringed with angry red.

Vivienne's assistant stood outside, holding a dog-head mascot suit that reeked of stale urine.

"Put it on."

The assistant pinched her nose, disgust plain on her face.

"Miss Graves says there's a pet charity expo today. You're the mascot at the front entrance. On all fours. Barking. Bark well enough and you get to eat."

"I'm not wearing that."

"No?"

The assistant's lip curled.

"Mr. Henson said if you refuse, he'll take it to mean you don't need this job and don't want to stay in this city."

I bit down on my lip until I tasted copper.

Howard, you heartless bastard.

Twenty minutes later. The hotel entrance.

I was on my hands and knees on scorching concrete, sealed inside the suffocating mascot suit. The sun beat down mercilessly, turning the costume into an oven. Sweat mixed with the blood still seeping from my wounds, stinging every inch of raw skin.

The guests filing past were all money and status. Every single one of them recoiled at the filthy "dog" sprawled in front of the doors, covering their noses as they hurried by.

"Is this some kind of performance art? God, the smell."

"I heard it's that fake heiress from the Graves family. She'll do anything for money now."