Friday night, a week after Carl the security guard-slash-serial killer tried to kidnap me and I'm standing backstage in the narrow space behind the red velvet curtains of the Stay Gold stage. Or, as the guys call it between themselves, the Buried Gold.

I swallow, willing the butterflies swirling in my stomach to disappear.

The crowd is restless tonight. A strange energy flows from the floor of the club, over the stage and back to me in the shadows.

A whisper of cloth and a hint of warm leather and whiskey tell me Devon is near a second before he clears his throat.

He lifts his hand to caress my bare shoulder, but stops himself. I pretend not to notice.

He's been true to word—too true. Not once has he tried to touch me, hold me since the night I was attacked.

"This is it," he whispers. "Your return to the stage."

I nod, not able to answer. The butterflies are back in full force. I breathe deep and slow. Deep and slow. I can sing. If there's one thing in this world I can do, it's sing on the stage.

But after only one week of prepping a new repertoire, figuring out how to sing songs entirely different from what I trained on for years has left me riddled with doubts and fears.

Plus—the last time the spotlight was in my eyes and a full audience was listening, I had a panic attack.

It won't happen again.

I can do this.

I will do this.

"You are sublime," he says, so close his breath stirs my hair near my ear. "And you will be amazing. I'll be in the front row, at my table."

I nod again. I don't ask if he'll be sitting with anyone. It's not my business—he's not mine and I'm not his. I resist the urge to gnaw my lower lip, knowing it will ruin my lipstick. If nothing else, I'll at least look good on stage. I do touch the loose ribbon at my neck, hanging like a necklace instead of the choker it's meant to be. I couldn't stand the sensation of my neck being constrained when I sing and insisted on a looser solution.

It's black. Singer. Entertainer. Hands off.

I'm wearing a maroon, velvet dress that hugs my every curve and has a round neckline with ample folds of extra cloth that hangs low to show off a generous amount of cleavage. It's classy. Sexy. Bold.

Everything I'm not these days. I also resist the urge to rub my fidgety, clammy hands down my dress and muss the fabric.

"Avery," Devon continues, "I want you to have this."

Before I can ask, he unclasps the ribbon at my neck and replaces it with another. A cold stone hits me right under my collar bone. I glance down.

My plain black ribbon necklace has been exchanged with one that has a huge black pearl, tear-drop shaped, in scintillating greys and purples, hanging from it.

"What is this?" I ask.

"To set you apart from the other employees, because you belong to our association," he says. "You are the pearl among the flint and steel of the rest of us. You belong with us and we will take care of you, no matter what happens."

His words stir me. I have a kind of family again, among these criminals who protect me as a precious member. These men, like flint and steel—ready to start a fire at a second's notice.

Some like big brothers.

But not all, although they pretend to be nothing more. To ease the sting of disappointment—he didn't give me the pearl for the usual reasons a man gives jewelry—I try to make light of it.

"This shows I belong to the club's inner circle?" I ask wryly.

His expression hardens. A beat of silence passes. "You belong to me. I may not be able to have you for now, but you are mine. I'll be at my table, watching you, alone."

My throat closes, and all I can see is the moment he made me sit, naked on his desk as his prized possession to inspect and enjoy.

He kisses me at the hairline behind my ear. It sends a shock of electric tingles through my chest and down my arms. I turn in surprise, but he is already walking away.

On stage, the light changes. That's my cue.

My feet are frozen to the spot.

Then I remember. He'll be at his table, alone, watching me from the darkness. Me and only me.

I step forward into the blazing spotlight.

The End

*** ONC 730 word count, final word count 29,000. Thank you so much and I hope you enjoyed the ride! Of course, we're still not sure what went wrong when Devon "took care" of Carl... ***