69. Nat

For as long as I've known her, Jane has been the strong one of the three of us. She picked up my broken pieces when Rick left me. She's helped Amanda through more breakups than I can count, and no matter what, we can always count on her to be our cheerleader.

Jane's good humor and unfailingly cheerful disposition is what makes her so popular. Today, though, she's a shell of her usual self. Her hair is dull, her face bruised, and her shine tarnished.

I hate Uriov for doing this to my best friend. If an opportunity arises, I plan on kicking him in the nuts. Hard enough that he feels it for days. It's the least he deserves.

The pair of us have been locked in a small bedroom with an attached bathroom and told to shower. Needless to say, it wasn't phrased as a request.

We showered together, neither of us willing to let the other out of sight. Just in case someone came in and stole one of us away. There's comfort in familiarity, and right now, Jane is my anchor, and I am hers.

Whatever happens next, we have each other. I know it's my fault she's caught up in this mess, but I'm trying not to think about it. I just can't. The only way I can deal is by focusing on one thing at a time.

"Remember how you told me to only think about the next thirty minutes when I was spiraling after Rick?" I remind her. She stands in the bathroom wrapped only in a threadbare towel while I try and comb my wet hair with my fingers.

There's no response. It's like she's checked out. Nobody's home.

Fuck.

This isn't good. I need her present in case an opportunity to escape arises. Unlikely, but I'm trying to remain positive.

"You told me that if I could get through the next thirty minutes, things would look better because nothing would be as bad as the thirty minutes I'd already survived."

"Did I?" she whispers in a low voice. "That's fucking bullshit."

I snort. "Complete bullshit. But maybe if we give it a go, it might help."

When I look up, she's watching me. "I never told you this," she says, "But I was so proud of you for picking yourself up after Rick. You're so much stronger than you realize, Nat."

Tears prick my eyes. I'm not strong, but like I said, she's always been my cheerleader.

"Come, we better get dressed before asshole comes back." She lets me take her hand and lead her back into the bedroom. I'm not thrilled about the idea of putting the same clothes back on, given they are grubby as hell, but while we've been in the bathroom, someone's left a couple of white satin negligees on the bed.

My stomach is empty but bile still creeps up my throat. I can think of no good reason why we'd need to wear something so revealing. And from the horrified expression on Jane's face, she can't either.

One of Uriov's goons escorts us into a large room all kitted out with cameras and lights. My legs start to shake as the reality of what we're facing sinks in. I haven't told Jane about the website Uriov runs. If I do, she'll understand what's going on, and I would rather she stay oblivious for a bit longer.

Considering Uriov has slept with Jane, he barely gives her a second glance, even though we're showing a lot of skin in our white negligees. Mine is too short and tight because of my curves but hers doesn't look quite so bad because she's more petite than me.

The room is cold. My skin breaks out in goose bumps and my nipples are hard enough to punch a hole through the lace. I'm sure that's probably the point.

"Ladies, you look so much better now," Uriov says in a fake happy voice when he strolls in, like this is a fucking model photo shoot. "Now Natalya, lie on the bed so we can have some nice photos."

"And if I say no?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "Then Igor will have fun making you." The large man standing behind Uriov smirks and squeezes his crotch. Bile creeps up my throat and Jane grips my hand even tighter.

"Just do as he says, Nat," she whispers. "We can get through this. It's not so bad. A few shitty photos won't matter."

It won't be just photos though, but I don't say that.

Thirty minutes later, and I'm desperate for another shower after Uriov's photographer has had his grubby little hands all over me. I badly need to vomit, and from Jane's pale complexion, she feels the same way.

"Get the best shots uploaded to the website, and then send a message to all our subscribers," Uriov snaps to the photographer. "I have a special show planned for tonight, so I want as many viewers as possible."

The photographer nods and begins to pack his stuff away, then the door opens and an unwelcome visitor arrives.