Avery scribbles a few words on the damp paper and rolls it up. She slips it into the bottle, carefully corks the bottle, and tosses it into the river. There's a small splash, and the bottle slowly bobs away on the current. Avery watches until it disappears.

Something cold splashes down on Gabrielle's head, and the strong smell of alcohol burns her nose. She looks up and sees Jackson holding an empty liquor bottle. He smirks and points at the front of her gown.

"I think you have something on your dress," he says.

Gabrielle looks down at the sequined dress and screams. There's a small, dead seahorse stuck to the fabric. She picks it up with two fingers and flinches at the cold, slimy feel. She throws the liquor-soaked seahorse at Jackson and wipes her fingers on the skirt of her gown.

"What's your problem?" she asks. "Why do you keep dumping your alcohol on me?"

She tries to wipe the cold liquid from her face with the back of her hand, but it drips down from her hair. The strong smell makes her dizzy. She turns to run to the bathroom, but a powerful hand closes around her upper arm.

"Don't you dare run from me, you ungrateful bitch," Jackson hisses. "If you try to escape again, I'll break both your legs."

With a broad sweep of his hand, Jackson clears all the wine glasses and bottles off the bar. They crash to the floor and shatter everywhere. He lifts Gabrielle up as if she weighs nothing and puts her on top of the bar. With an icy glare, he pulls her gown up to her thighs and forces her legs open. He steps between them, the smooth silk of his robe brushing against her soft thighs.

He grabs a bottle of red wine from the counter behind the bar and pinches her jaw. She gasps in pain, and he begins to pour the liquid down her throat. She coughs and chokes and shakes her head back and forth. The burning liquid makes her want to vomit, but there's nothing in her stomach beside the wine.

"Jackson, stop," she gasps, pushing weakly against his chest. "Wait, please wait."

His black silk bathroom is open at the chest, revealing pale skin and chiseled muscles. His hair is messy, and his eyes are glazed with alcohol and desire. He reaches behind her and begins to unzip her gown.

"No, I can't wait any longer," he whispers.

Gabrielle grabs his neck and digs her nails in, "No, I have something I need to talk to you about."

Jackson raises his eyebrows and says, "Make it quick. Once I get this dress off you, I won't be in the mood to listen."

Gabrielle says, "What if I bought my freedom from you? I can give you money or my credit cards or whatever you want."

"I don't think you could afford that," Jackson says, working the zipper down to her waist.

"Well, fine, I've heard that there are many escorts who work at The Palm House," she says. "I'll get you the most expensive one."

"They're not clean," Jackson says, his eyebrows crinkling with disgust.

"I'll find you a clean one," Gabrielle says. "I swear."

"You're clean, aren't you?" Jackson asks. "And you're already here."

Gabrielle bites her lips and squints, unsure how to respond. If I lie and pretend I'm not, he might do something violent, Gabrielle thinks. But if I don't, he'll rape me. I don't know what to say. Jackson raises his eyebrows and digs his fingernails into her back.

"There are so many clean women," Gabrielle says. "Why must it be me?"

"Because you won't get attached to me," Jackson says. "I can see just how much you hate me in your eyes. When I get tired of you, I can get rid of you. I don't have to worry about your acting clingy or needy."

"How do you know I won't?" Gabrielle asks, widening her eyes. "You know, you were my first. And everyone says you never forget your first."

Jackson scowls and reaches to undo his robe. Gabrielle feels panic and adrenaline rush through her veins. She looks around the room and sees the bottle of wine. Jackson poured down her throat. She grabs the bottle and slams it into the side of his head. Jackson's eyes widen in shock, and then he stumbles sideways and collapses onto the floor.

She hops off the counter, tugs her skirt back down, and quickly checks to see if he's still breathing. She runs across the room and tugs on the door. There's a complicated lock, and her fingers shake as she works to undo it. Finally, she jerks the door open. Something touches her arm, and then the door slam shuts. She turns around and sees Jackson towering over her.

Ruby red wine drips down his face, making him look like a deranged vampire. He smiles grimly and pulls her toward him. He pants heavily, and the smell of wine overwhelms her.

"Have you gone crazy?" he asks her. "How dare you attack me in my own home?"

Gabrielle stares at him in astonishment and says, "How are you still standing? I thought you fainted."

Jackson wraps his long hands around her neck and squeezes. Slowly, he lifts her up. The pressure on her neck is unbearable; she gasps and coughs and kicks her legs. She reaches her arms out and tries to claw his face, but she can't reach. The room starts to spin, and fuzzy black dots appear. Oh my God, she thinks. He's really going to kill me.

He slams her back against the wall, loosening his grip on her neck. With one hand still holding her, he unties his robe and rips the dress off her body. He thrusts into her, and she screams as loud as she can.

"Oh shut up," Jackson says, forcing the silk belt from his robe into her mouth.

She screams and screams around the cloth, but no sound comes out. She screams until her throat aches, and her eyes water. Jackson thrusts again and then scoops her up and carries her into his bedroom. He violently throws her onto the king-size bed and climbs on top of her. The wine on his face is mixed with blood from the cuts made by the bottle. Gabrielle closes her eyes and waits for it to end.

When Gabrielle wakes in the morning, her entire body aches, she winces with pain and turns her head to the side—Jackson is fast asleep next to her. The blood and wine have dried into a gory crust on the side of his face. Somehow, he still looks handsome—like a demon.

Slowly, Gabrielle climbs out of bed. Her legs almost give out beneath her as she wobbles across the room, looking for her underwear. She slides the underwear on and clasps her bra. Her sequined gown has been torn to shreds, but she finds a black, wraps top and a long flowing skirt.

The soft fabric of the shirt stings her arm terribly. She looks down and finds a nasty red scratch on the pale skin. She stares at Jackson and wants to kick him, but she knows it's too dangerous to wake him. She looks down at his long, curly hair and then at the torn shreds of her dress. She smiles slyly to herself and gets to work.