His hand had landed on my shoulder, fingers starting to slip beneath my collar—and my body had reacted before my mind could. I'd thrown up right there. Ended things immediately.
That night.
I'd stumbled back to the villa, still shaking, only to find Otis waiting in the living room.
He'd watched me with that half-smile of his—the one that drank in every ounce of my humiliation. Shame burned through me, but beneath it was something uglier: hatred for myself, for still being unable to take that final step. I'd broken down sobbing.
And then Otis had pulled me into his arms.
"Debbie."
"Still want to keep playing?"
The perfume clinging to him wasn't mine.
I'd looked up and seen the red marks on his neck. The lipstick smeared on his collar. My stomach had lurched, and I'd vomited—right onto him.
Disgust had twisted his features. He'd stripped off his jacket and thrown it at my feet.
"Debbie."
"How long are you going to keep this up?!"
"Yes, I cheated."
"But haven't I given you everything you wanted?! You went from being a nobody—some village girl with nothing—to Mrs. Sanchez. Everyone envies you. Everyone says you hit the jackpot. What more could you possibly want?!"