And I was no longer the Olivia Shade I was when I was twenty-five.

I was smart and I was savvy. I had a good head on my shoulders.

And I could make a man like Nick Sebring talk about having a future with me.

Babies.

The only thing I wasn't was strong. I had to admit that to myself so I could face it.

I'd had my strength burned right out of me.

No, I'd let them burn the strength right out of me.

Then I let them do whatever they wanted to do and I'd quit fighting. I'd quit dreaming.

I'd quit believing.

Now, Nick was showing me another way. He'd once been another man, a maybe not-so-good one, and he'd learned. He'd learned not to be petty and selfish and manipulative.

He'd grown up. He'd become his own man. He'd become the master of his destiny.

And he saw something in me.

I honest to G.o.d didn't know what.

But if he saw it, if he liked it, if he wanted a future with it, I wanted to give it to him.

I wanted to make it worth it.

I wanted it for myself.

Nick had needed to grow up.

I didn't need to grow up. I was grown up. Too grown up. I felt a million years old.

So no, I didn't need to grow up.

I needed to grow a backbone.

Nick wanted to look out for me. He wanted to find a way to make me free.

I loved that.

But I had to help.

And I had to make that struggle (and it was going to be a struggle) worth it.

Thinking about all of this on the plane, wanting a life with Nick in it, wanting the future he was leading us to, as well as coming to terms with all of this, I also had to admit I was scared s.h.i.+tless.

But I was beginning to understand that having a backbone wasn't about being brave and stupid, jumping in with both feet, rus.h.i.+ng to meet the horizon, so as the sun peaked it burned you blind.

It was about being scared s.h.i.+tless, knowing the source of your fears, understanding them, outsmarting them, and going forth to conquer them anyway.

I didn't know what his plan would be.

I just knew whatever it was, I had to find the strength to be with him all the way so I'd feel worthy of being with him the rest of the way.

"I'll be in and out," I a.s.sured him. "Georgia's got all sorts of stuff on. She's never been overly interested in this kind of thing anyway. I'll probably be back in my car on the way to my office in half an hour."

"I want you texting me when you're out of there," he ordered.

Patiently, I reminded him, "I don't text and drive, Nick."

"Then pull over, Olivia, and text me, or just call me and talk to me on your f.u.c.kin' Bluetooth like you're doin' now."

At that curt demand, and the open disquiet behind it, I felt a chill slide over my scalp.

Even so, I a.s.sured Nick again. "I'm just meeting Georgie, sweetheart."

"Just contact me one way or another when you're out of there, babe. Yeah?"

"Yeah, Nick."

"My man will be waiting. He'll pick you up again when you leave. I still want to hear direct from you you're okay."

"All right, honey."

"Right, Liv. Later, baby."

"Later."

He hung up.

I stared at the grungy outside of the warehouse through my winds.h.i.+eld, took a breath and shook off the weird feeling Nick's call left me. That done, I threw open my door.

I was walking up the stairs inside the warehouse that led to the hall of offices when a text sounded on my phone.

I kept moving as I grabbed it and read it.

It was Georgia, See you pulled up. Meet me in Dad's office.

Along with the lingering weirdness I felt from Nick's call, I didn't feel happy thoughts about that text.

But this was my sister. This was Georgie. Even if Dad was in a snit about something, she looked out for me.

And Dad was leaving me be. In fact, it seemed after I sorted the David stuff and moved on from Tommy, he was coming to terms with the daughter that was me. He wasn't asking me over for cookouts, but he wasn't in my s.p.a.ce or my life hardly at all. This, to my way of thinking, was the best gift he could give me.

So Nick cared about me. He didn't like my family. He didn't like me around my family. And he'd long since warned me to stay away from the warehouse so I knew he didn't like me being here.

He was just being protective.

And I could shake off the weird feeling, get my meet done with Georgia (who probably told Dad about it and he wanted to horn in) and get out of here. Get out of here and get back to my life. My real life, the life I lived without all this and with Nick.

I walked down the hall toward Dad's door deciding that instead of looking at this in the sense I was back here in this dingy hall possibly about to spend time with my father, I should look at it in the sense that I hadn't been there in over a week. My life no longer meant I had to come there every day. I only came there occasionally. And I didn't have to stay for long.

In other words, for the first time since Tommy and I failed in our escape, I looked on the Brightside.

Because of this, my mouth curled up in a small smile as I put my hand on the handle of my father's door.

I turned it.

I pushed in.

I walked in.

I saw Georgia coming up out of a chair in front of my father's desk, turning as she did to face me.

I also saw something out of the corner of my eye.

I didn't get the chance to look that way.

Agony exploded from my cheekbone, coursing a path through my temple and eye.

Having received the backhanded blow from my father, I staggered to the side, hand out to catch my fall however that might happen, eyes blinking in an effort to regain focus taken away by surprise and pain.

I hadn't succeeded before the next blow came. This one not a backhand but an open-handed slap across my cheek that cracked hideously through the room, the sound exploding in my brain.

I careened from that blow only to sustain the next one, another slap, followed by another. But that one was a closed-fist crus.h.i.+ng punch that landed right on my temple.

Fighting to remain conscious but unable to remain standing, I fell to the side. Slamming into my hand on the silk carpet, my wrist taking all my weight, the throb of pain radiating up my arm, my hip hitting next.

My other hand to my face, cowering away from the possibility of another blow, I heard Georgia cry, "Dad! Stop with the face!"

"f.u.c.k, you f.u.c.king stupid, G.o.dd.a.m.ned f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h!" my father shouted, on the second "f.u.c.king" grabbing hold of my hair in a painful grip and yanking back.

I made a mew of pain, my eyes opening to see his red livid face inches from mine.

"What the f.u.c.k's the matter with you, you stupid, f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h?" he asked in an enraged shout, his spittle landing on my face. "Christ! How have you not learned? It's simple," he yanked my hair with the last word and then again with each successive one, "you...do...as...you're...told."

My head jerking with each tug, my neck stretched taut in a reflexive effort to fight the jolts and beginning to ache, my scalp in agony, I tried to gather a single thought.

All I could do was notice that my sister was approaching.

I also vaguely noticed Tommy was there, not too far away.

And incidentally-so Tommy-not intervening.

"Dad, back off," Georgia said in a calming voice.

Dad glared at me a moment before he yanked my hair one last time, like he was pus.h.i.+ng me away from him, before he let me go and straightened.

I swayed with the wrench, flinching against the pain, and righted myself. But I didn't move further because my father didn't s.h.i.+ft away and both Georgia and he were fencing me in.

Hazily, my attention drifted to my sister.

"Dustin Culver, Liv," she said.

"What?" I whispered, that being the absolute last thing I expected her to say, not thinking I actually heard her say it and wondering if I was unconscious and hallucinating.

"Told you to date him, sis. Not break up with the f.u.c.ker," she stated.

I blinked up at her.

"The man's running for state senate next term," my father spat, and I looked to him. "Way he looks. Money he's got. Brain in his head. His pedigree. His education. His ambition. He'll be in Was.h.i.+ngton in four years, if he doesn't run for governor. He could even f.u.c.kin' make a play for the White House. That kinda future ahead of him, you get him addicted to your s.n.a.t.c.h, leadin' him around by his d.i.c.k, what's that do for the Shades?"

I wasn't certain I was hearing what I thought I was hearing.

"You wanted me..." I shook my head. "What?"

"Boy got your stepfather out of some s.h.i.+t, because your stepfather is more of a stupid f.u.c.k than you are," Dad bit out. "Payback, Culver saw you out to dinner with your mother, he wanted a fixup. Your mother saw the benefits of such a union. She chatted with your sister, your sister chatted with me. We all agreed. You see him. You f.u.c.k him. You get him wrapped around your finger, you own him," he jerked his thumb at himself, "then I own him."

I felt something coming off of Georgia, it was not nice, and since I didn't need more not nice in the present situation, my gaze darted quickly to her only to see her aiming a sour look at our father.

She rearranged her face when she noticed my attention and looked down at me.

"Babe, getting you out of this warehouse? Getting you clean? Next young, handsome, hotshot Colorado senator sent to Was.h.i.+ngton is not gonna put a ring on your finger, you're managing a crew of drug dealers."

Me moving offices hardly made me clean.

"I'm still a Shade," I pointed out hesitantly.

"No Shade has direct ties to anything..." she hesitated before her lips quirked and she finished, "shady. Not anymore."

Her sister on the floor at her feet having been on the receiving end of four vicious blows from the father we shared, I had no idea how she could find anything amusing.

Then again, as it sunk in that they were whoring me out to Dustin Culver, something she was clearly in on, maybe I did have an idea.

I scooted back several inches, and with as much grace as I could muster, cradling my tender wrist in my other hand, doing my best to ignore the pain burning in my face, I gained my feet. I then s.h.i.+fted away farther, my eyes glancing from my father to my sister to Tommy, doing this also noting Gill was across the room, shoulder leaned against the wall, face blank, watching.

They were all in on it.

My face stinging and I could feel it swelling, I avoided my father's eyes and looked at my sister.

"So I don't manage a crew of dealers. Now I'm a wh.o.r.e?"

Georgia caught herself mid-eye roll at what she clearly considered my dramatics and threw out a low hand. "He's not ugly or fat or stupid. How tough would it be?"

I straightened my shoulders and held her gaze. "Maybe not tough but did it occur to you to explain your plans to me rather than telling me what I was to do without me really understanding why you wanted me to do it?"