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.