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she gazed through the mirror and whispered a question to Henri. Her ultra low-cut white couture dress hung from her painfully thin frame, a stark contrast to the dark tattoos that sleeved both arms, her shoulders, back, and her rib cage. She’d always tended toward thinness, but her lifestyle the last twelve months had caused her to drop even more weight. Designers cooed over her frame, but he’d begun to worry. Ingratiatingly, Henri whispered a reply.
    Seth didn’t listen to the conversation emitting from the speakers because it was obvious that the “actor” was simply directing the young woman through loose dialogue for the sake of the camera, flirting with her, and talking dirty in French as he tied her wrists and ankles to the big bed which was fitted for that purpose. Once she was restrained, he played with her, arousing her as she writhed. The other men in the room were motionless, and the young woman obviously couldn’t hear them over the music pumping into the room. The men looked as though they were waiting for their cue.
    The lead man finally untied the blindfold, which covered most of the woman’s face. She blinked her eyes blearily, and then her attention was drawn to the interior of the room and finally the three men who stood waiting. She was definitely inebriated, but it didn’t dull the shock on her face when she finally clued in to the fact they were all naked and ready for a gang bang.
    Henri clapped his hands lightly and chuckled, obviously pleased. “That look, that expression, that is what makes these sell so well, the sheer authenticity of her reactions and the experience. My clients will pay top dollar for this.”
    Seth had no doubt that the young woman hadn’t agreed to this “experience” beforehand. Tamar was riveted as the girl’s chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing, the fear growing in her eyes. “What will happen to her?”
    Henri shrugged and made a faint moue with his pudgy lips. “She will be paid well, and pfft,” he said, with a dismissive brushing gesture of his hands.
    Seth knew he had to do something. He struggled to lift his foot from the floor, to turn, to help that girl and then walk away from this horrible place. He felt anchored in concrete, unable to move. Why had he come? Tamar glanced at Seth, but any real emotion she felt was hidden beneath her cynical façade as she sipped her drink. Her hands didn’t even shake. Seth wanted to be sick. He broke out in a cold sweat, chills racing over his body.
    “No!” Seth bolted upright in his bed, disgust stirring the nausea in his gut. He caught his breath as the quiet of his own dark bedroom settled around him. He wasn’t in Paris. He was in Divine. Time and distance did a lot to ease the anxiety he felt every time he had that damned dream, but neither could do a thing for the guilt he still felt.
    He’d tried to stop that scene from happening but he’d been bodily ejected from the hallway and the manor house altogether. Because of the pounding music, nobody in any of the rooms would’ve heard his protests. As far as he knew, the scene and the video shoot had gone forward exactly as Henri had planned. Seth had no idea what had become of the girl.
    He gritted his teeth at the recollection of the men standing in the corner waiting their turn—and the shock on the girl’s face when she’d realized why they were there.
    He’d had that same dream several times since leaving Europe, but this time it had ended before the horrible reality set in. He shook his head and rested his elbows on his knees, taking deep breaths.
    Jayne had questioned why the loss of her virginity was such a big deal to him. This dream reinforced his decision. That girl in Paris had probably not been a virgin. Otherwise she never would’ve been in a place like that, allowing that man to tie her up as a prelude to sex. But she now had a memory she could never erase. He couldn’t fix that but he could keep himself from creating bad