Page 43 of The Way You Hurt Me

I can't let my mind go down that hole. I can't. I can't, I can't…

Dimitri lowers his phone down to his neck.

"There's a mini-bar between the seats if you'd like," he tells me, before returning to his rapid-fire panty-melting monologue.

I open it. A bottle of champagne, flutes, a bottle of clear alcohol—probably vodka—a couple of beers, the whole lot chilled.There's definitely no hot chocolate in there.

"Want anything?" I mouth.

He shrugs, which I take as a yes. Picking the champagne, I pour two glasses and hand him one.

It's insane that a night that started the way this one did now involves flutes in a damn Bentley, but here we are.

I don't even know how it's possible for me to feel completely, utterly safe. But I do.

His phone call finally ends, and I've recovered my mind enough to ask, "So, I have bodyguards?"

That does catch his attention, enough to get those green eyes moving from his screen back up to me."Evidently."

"For the last three years?" I push.

"Yes, Willow."

Apparently, he's decided to be difficult about this."Did Cam ask you to have me followed?"

"No, though he would have, had he any idea how you chose to spend your free time."

I flush. "I didn't think those guys would attack me like that. I mean, their job is supposed to be getting hired to please women, not…"

"They're stronger than you, and you were unprotected. In this world, that makes you prey. I realize that you've been coddled and protected so you've never found yourself in that position before, but it's the simple reality of life. Men can hire escorts and have very little risk, other than getting a rash in uncomfortable places, because the escort is the prey in that situation. No amount of money is going to make you the one in power. It was only a matter of time before you learned that lesson, hence why I allowed you to continue with this nonsense."

I bristle. "Allowedme?"

"Yes, Willow. Allowed. I could have stopped you at any time, and I will stop you now. You're done."

"Now wait a minute."

"Your profile's down. Every video and photo has been erased. No one's going to let you sign up to a similar site again."

My jaw drops. That's ridiculous. That's not how the internet works. People have likely saved my videos and photos a hundred times. And I absolutely can sign up again if I want to.

"By all means. Check."

I take my phone, and click on the site. The link's broken. So instead, I search my stage name on the browsers.

No result. None. I mean, there are actual red hearts, in fake rhinestones, but zero pictures of me, when it used to be the first hundred results at the very least.

In complete disbelief, I actually scroll through my pictures and videos, stored on my actual device.

"I still have…" My voice fades as I watch my phone bug right in front of me, the screen pixelating, and then, those pictures fade and completely disappear.

I understand programming, computers, hacking. This is quite simply not in the realm of possibility.

"A government or two owe me a few favors. There are hackers better than your sister in this world, you know. Few, but they exist. And one has been working on making sure your fun little alter ego disappears for the last half hour or so. He's thorough."

My lips thin. "It's not your call. Why would you care if I want to show my tits to the world?" I snap.

"But you don't, do you? Oh, you want Ruby Red Heart's tits to be admired by a crowd, sure. But how would you feel about Willow Brown being known as nothing but a porn star?"

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