So you can rape and kill me like in my dream? Hell no! Good-bye Victor.

The muscles in Victor's jaw clenched as did his heart, as he stared woefully down at the words that appeared on the screen of his cell. While he should have been paying attention to the pornographic scene before him, his mind was on nothing else but his overly stubborn little Amy. He sighed deeply, his thumb lingering over the numbered key pad, preparing to type a response back to her, but quickly came to realization that he didn't have one. She had left him speechless, just as she had last week when he had her tied up in his basement, when he'd been ready to hurt her, but when she pleaded for him to stop.

Truth be told, he wouldn't blame her if she hated him right now. He hated himself as it was for letting his unconsciousness get the better, or rather, the worst of him, in the dream they'd "shared" the night before. The moment he put that knife into her belly, he'd shot up in bed to find himself not only covered in a cold sweat but with a massive hard-on. However, that hard-on quickly went away as he sat there in bed, trying to make sense of it all. Why had he killed her? Why had he ruined such a sweet and oh so perfect moment between the two of them by letting his evil side take over?

Fucking idiot! That's what he was. A thoughtless fucking idiot. All he'd wanted was for the two of them to be together, to share one pure and geunine moment of pleasure and affection, to love one another unconditionally, no strings attached. And he'd fucking blown it. There was no use dwelling over his failure now. What was done couldn't be undone, but Goddamn it, there wasn't a chance in hell he was about to back down.

Snapping his celluar shut, he pushed all thoughts of Amy to the back of his head and forced himself to focus on the job at hand, and the scene that was unfolding before him.

"Cut!" Victor shouted with a roll of his eyes, pushing his large frame up from the black director's chair he was sitting in and instantly strutting towards the two actors before him.

The haunting and slightly up-tempo electronica music playing over the studio seized shortly after he had spoken, and make-up and hair artists alike came dashing over to the actors to give them a quick touch-up. One of the actors was a dark haired and bronze-skinned actor, who, ironically had similar features to Victor. The only difference betweem them was their age and height. The actor was in his mid-twenties, merely a few inches shorter than he was. He was clad in nothing more than a lengthy black lab coat. A young and petite woman with long and wavy blonde hair, large blue eyes and a trim figure laid stark naked and helpless on a hospital-like gurney, her limbs strapped down by means of leather restraints.

"Marco? Come here buddy," he waved the man over, pulling him aside where they could talk in private. Marco looked expectantly up at him, almost as if he were waiting for instructions. Victor placed a firm hand upon Marco's shoulder, "look, this isn't a real hospital, all right? You're not supposed to show mercy to the little slut. The idea is to punish her, make her scream, get her to the point where she starts to beg and plead for her life. You're out for your revenge, remember? Don't hold back. You're suppose to be rough with her. Forget about all your worries, all your fears, and take all that pent up aggression and anger out on Tiffany. You remember the time your ex fucked you over to go suck off some other guy?"

Marco shot a glare at him, his breathing suddenly growing heavy with on coming rage.

A smug smile crossed his face, and he proceeded to give the man a light slap on his back, "there it is. That's the rage you should be channeling when you torment the little slut, got it?"

Marco exhaled sharply, nodding his head to show that he understood, "got it man."

His lips stretched into a smirk as he gave Marco another pat on the back, "good boy."

Catching some movement out of the corner of his eye, Victor turned his head to see Lucy walk-in with a cup of what he figured was a drink of some sort. Usually, whenever they were in the middle of shooting a scene, he ocassionally gave her permission to slip away and get herself a little something. He didn't mind having her around, especially since she was among other things, a hot piece of ass to gawk at, but he couldn't have her traipsing back and forth while he had to focus on the work at hand. It would be far too much of a distraction, which was why he preferred that she make herself scarce.

He turned away from Marco, allowing the hair and make-up artists to take him under their wing, and stealing a glance at his watch. It was nearing lunch time, which would give him about fourty five minutes to be alone with his thoughts in his office, but if he had the choice, he would prefer to distract himself in his work rather than continue to dwell on the drama of the night before.

His eyes wandered back to his personal assistant, hoping that the little bitch wouldn't think to pull another stunt like the one she had numerous times when he was in the middle of filming. She had tried to get him off so many damn times, but the real truth of the matter was, she didn't have to. He might never admit it to anyone but himself and maybe his best friend, James, but she could get him off simply by strutting around the production room in those revealing little outfits of hers. He locked eyes with her for a brief moment, cocking a challenging brow her way, almost tempting her to try him. If she knew what was good for her, she would keep her distance for the time being and her hands off his dick and ass.

Before he had the chance to utter a single word, much less make a move, Lucy came sauntering in his direction. Out of habit, his eyes roamed over her figure as she neared closer to him, that familiar and fiery lust filling her soulful and captivating green eyes, a coy smile tugging at the corners of her full pink lips. As much as he tried to resist staring and leading the little slut on, there was no way he could prevent himself from taking a gander at the tops of her voluptuous and deliciously inviting breasts, which were peeking out from beneath the low-cut scarlett red blouse she was wearing, but he did resist the urge to lick his lips.

"Lucy," he nodded his head in regard.

The corners of her mouth curled into a demure smile. "Victor."

He stole a quick glance over his shoulder, making note of those within earshot before taking a step closer to her. He started to speak, but she rudely cut him off.

"I thought you might like to know, I made those reservations at Melrose for you, called up that 'little prick' Drew Johnson and told him where he could shove that contract of his, and you have a meeting with Jack Holden at five thirty."

"Good." He exhaled sharply, "but before we go any further, let's get one thing straight here, sweetheart. I've told you, I don't know how many Goddamn times already, when we're working alongside one another, you are to address me not as 'Victor,' but as 'Mr. Bane.' Got it?"

Lucy reached out, placing her hand against his chest and gazing longingly up into his eyes. "Oh but Victor sounds so much better."

While the warmth of her hand caused his cock to jerk involuntarily beneath his black slacks, he tried not to let his sudden errection impair his judgement. With his gaze firmly locked on hers, he seized her wrist tightly in his hand and forced it back at her side. "You want to call me Victor in your many masterbatory fantasies, be my guest, but while you're in this building, it's Mr. Bane to you. Is that clear?"

Her smile grew wider as she tossed her head back and inched closer to him. "Mmm. How did you know I had those masterbatory fantasies?"

"Please." Victor rolled his eyes towards the ceiling before crossing his arms firmly over his chest. "I'm not blind, sweetie pie. I see the way you look at me, day after day, kinda like the way you're looking at me right now. The way you strut around the studio, displaying that world class clevage of yours, the way you look at my sweet little Amy in envy whenever she comes within ten feet of me, the way you go an extra mile just to please me when I give you an assignment, as if by some stretch of the imagination, you think I might reward you with my cock or my mouth."

Lucy cocked a brow of interest at those last words, her smile never fading. "Wow. I never realized how intuitive you were until now. I like it." Reaching out, she placed her hands on either side of his neck, pressing those deliciously inviting tits of her against his chest, her voice taking on a husky whisper. "I've always loved a man who can get into my head as well as my pants."

The little slut! Who the fuck did she think she was, coming onto him like this and in front of everyone? She would never learn. As hard as she was making him and as great as her tits felt against his chest, he had to focus. Focus on Amy. His sweet and spunky little Amy. Grabbing both of her wrists tightly in his hands, he quickly shoved her away, knocking her off balance and causing a few people around him to gasp in surprise. "Back off, Decoy. If you're that desperate for a man to jump into your pants, try going after one of the extras. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to pump your pussy on their lunch hour."

Lucy stumbled backward, but managed to catch herself before she fell over entirely. She shot him a glare as she ran her fingers down the front of her blouse and along her hips, as if she were smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes. She exhaled a deep sigh, her full strawberry glossed lips forming in a pout as she brought her gaze back up to his face.

Victor turned on his heels, casting his gaze upon the crowd of on lookers he had drawn. "The show's over everyone. Get back to work!"

And they did, immediately, as if nothing had happened.

Turning back to face Lucy, he took a couple steps towards her, his features somber, but intent on giving her a piece of his mind.

"That wasn't very nice of you, Mr. Bane," Lucy said, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, "roughing up your personal assistant like that, especially when she would do anything in her power to please you."

"You please me because I pay you to do so, but nowhere in your job description does it include sexual favors." He exhaled sharply, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. "We've had this Goddamn discussion I don't know how many times before, and frankly, I'm getting fed up with it. You applied to be my personal assistant, not my personal whore, and when we're in plain sight, I would appreciate it if you would keep your pretty little hands to yourself. Is that clear?"

Her eyes wandered away from his face and down the front of his body, all the way down to his crotch. "As clear as that very big piece of meat in your pants is hard, baby, but what happens if I slip up? What are you going to do to me then?" Her lips stretched into a conspiratorial smirk, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

His eyes narrowed considerably, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. She was playing with fire, and if she wasn't careful, she was going to get burned. "Don't push me, sweetheart. Trust me, you'll regret you did."

Placing her hands upon her hips, she stuck her chest out, thrusting her breasts in his direction. "What are you going to do? Spank me?"

While he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to give her a spanking or two, or perhaps even a whipping, he knew that was what the little slut wanted, but if she wanted him, she would have to work for it, in more ways than one. "I'll do far worse than that." She cocked a challenging brow at him. "Look, I don't play by the same rules as other guys. You keep pushing me, Decoy, and I guarantee, you're going to get yourself hurt."

"Maybe, but the thought does excite me." She took a step closer to him, their bodies brushing against one another. So much so that he could practically feel the heat of her tits permeating the starched cotton of his shirt. Gazing up into his penetrating eyes, her voice fell to a husky and seductive tone, "it excites me, it terrifies me, and it makes me so..." She reached down suddenly, her fingers rubbing over the huge bulge in his pants, "horny."

Goddamn it! He should have seen that one coming. He was the intuiative one for Christ's sakes and he prided himself on that crafty skill of his, but somehow, the little slut had managed to catch him off guard and now, she was dangerously close to giving him a fucking hand job. Her next plan of action was more than likely to pull his cock out of his pants, in front of his entire cast and crew. That is, if it didn't burn a hole through them first. The little slut was just as sneaky as he was. While a part of him should have been impressed, he wasn't. Far from it actually.

Despite the pounding of his heart and the heat surging through his lower body, his gaze darkened with fury. Firmly grabbing a hold of her wrist, he yanked it against his chest, taking her with it. "I told you to back off once already. I'm not going to tell you again. In fact, the next time I do, you're going to wind up in some deep pain." Shoving her away from him, he tugged at the collar of his black suit jacket, squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat. "Now, why don't you run along and make yourself useful by fetching me some lunch."

Whirling around on his heels, he spread his arms wide, commanding the attention of his cast and crew. "Take five, everyone! That's fourty five, for lunch! And not a minute more." Sighs of both relief and disappointment came from those around him before everyone went their seperate ways. Turning back to face Lucy, he folded his hands over his belly, the vexated but still lustful look in her eyes giving him every indication that she wanted to be his lunch. "Don't get any ideas. I want my usual order from Chyn King, and I expect it to be in my office within twenty minutes. Hop to it, Decoy."

As tempted as he was to give the little slut a slap to the ass on his way by, he resisted the urge, reminding himself that it wouldn't make matters any better. Better to nip this in the bud before she made a mockery out of him and his company in front of everyone. Without so much as looking back to see if she was following let alone hopping to his command, he continued striding off in the direction of the exit door.

Ten minutes later, he was back in his office, sitting behind his desk, a bottle and a half-empty glass of scotch to his right, his cell phone in his hands, contemplating whether or not he should send Amy another text message or even a voicemail of some sort. Knowing her, and he did, she would more than likely ignore both. She hadn't exactly responded to his last voicemail, but he knew damn well she had listened to it. Curosity might kill the cat, but women were no exception to that rule. They were just as curious, sometimes naively so, as any unsuspecting cat. Amy had listened to it, because he knew, deep down inside, there was a part of her that still wanted him back, regardless of how many times she tried to deny it. It was only a matter of time and they would be together again.

He wasn't proud of himself for what he had done to her in her dream, or rather "their" dream, but he had no control over the situation. His subconscious mind had been a vicious bastard, had played on his old desires and had taken him along for the ride, whether he liked it or not. If the situation had been different, if it had been happening in reality, he would have had control over his actions and he damn well wouldn't have let it end like that. Sighing woefully, he grabbed the glass beside him, tossing his head back and downing the rest of his scotch in one large gulp, before slamming it back down onto the desk with an audible clank.

It was only his first glass, but he knew it was going to take a hell of a lot more than one glass of scotch to make him forget all about the dream let alone the hatred that Amy felt towards him at the moment. He had to drink himself to death just to get back to sleep the night before, and if he was going to get through the rest of the day, scotch was the only way to do it. Maybe a hit of coke would do him some good too. He kept an extra stash locked up in his desk for emergencies. Well this was a fucking emergency. Just as he was about to pull out that special stash of his, the door opened and Lucy sauntered inside, a white plastic bag in her hand. Even if she hadn't stepped into the room, he would know it was her by her neglect to knock on the door, let alone wait for an invitation to enter.

After shutting the door behind her, she strutted towards him, setting the plastic bag on top of his desk. "Your usual lunch order, fried rice, orange chicken, and," she paused, bringing her right hand up to her chest, letting her fingers slowly trail up and down between the curves of her breasts, her voice falling to a husky whisper, "four plump and juicy shrimp."

Victor's eyes shifted up to her, glancing briefly down at her breasts, trying painstakingly not to let his gaze linger for too long much less become hypnotized by the clever little movement of her fingers. "Thank you, sweetheart. That'll be all." Reaching inside the bag, he pulled out the three take-away boxes and set them before him. "Run along now and do, whatever the hell it is you do when I'm not around."

"Okay, if that's what you want."

"It is." Opening up the box of orange chicken, he reached back into the bag and grabbed the pair of chopsticks inside before leaning back in his chair, intent on starting on his meal, and expecting to hear the sound of the door shutting behind her as she left his office, but he didn't. In fact, when he looked up, much to his suspicion and surprise, Lucy was still there.

The little slut had taken one of the two black iron chairs in front of his desk, set it in the center of the room and planted herself in it. By the lustful but mischievous twinkle in her eye, he could tell she was up to something, but what?

His eyes narrowed inquisitively. "I told you to leave. What the hell are you still doing here?"

She sat forward, placing a hand on each one of her knees, her gaze never leaving his face. Instead of answering him, she let her body do the talking. Hiking the short black skirt she was wearing up to her abdomen, she spread her legs wide apart, exposing her waxed and rosy vagina. The fact that the little slut wasn't wearing any panties didn't surprise him in the least. What she did next, however, did. Taking her right hand, she placed it against her fleshy folds. Then, using her index and middle finger, began to pleasure herself. She took her time, moaning and sighing as she let her fingers slide up and down her labia, slow at first and then gradually increasing her pace, all the while, keeping her eyes locked with his.

Even before she started to openly masterbate in front of him, he felt his cock jerk to attention the moment her hand touched her rosy little pussy. The little slut! She had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to fuck with his head, to seduce the hell out of him, and she had done so in the worst way. She was treading on dangerous ground, and it was not going to end well, and yet, as hungry as he was, he was powerless to look away. He was completely hypnotized by the motion of her fingers, his cock pulsating rapidly in sync with his heart. The heat was radiating through his pants and he knew it wouldn't be long before he lost control. That was probably what the bitch wanted. For him to lose control to the point where he would need to take action, either by taking her or by taking himself in his hands.

His breathing grew deeper as he sat back, his gaze shifting from her face to the fingers that were sliding up and down her slick little pussy. Grabbing a piece of orange chicken between his chopsticks, he shoved it into his mouth, savoring the hot and spicy taste, his tongue rolling across his upper lip as he gazed intently at her, his cock seeming to jerk with every passionate moan that escaped her full and luscious strawberry glossed lips, every contortion of her face, every heavy and heated breath that entered and left her sweaty body.

Lucy bit down on her bottom lip, her fingers working faster, deeper, her chest heaving up and down, beads of sweat gleaming across her forehead. She was dangerously close to her climax. He could see it in her eyes. She couldn't last much longer. His cock was growing harder just imagining her final gush of satisfaction. Shoving another piece of orange chicken into his mouth, he licked his lips once again, his cock getting the better of him as he found himself imagining her sweet juices on his lips instead of the sauce they dipped the orange chicken in, whatever the hell it was.

Suddenly, and unexpectedly so, her hand stopped and she froze, holding his gaze as she fought to catch her breath.

He blinked, his eyes narrowing incriminatingly, his blood starting to boil hot with on coming fury. Exhaling sharply, his features darkened and turned stone cold. "Keep going."

Lucy made no move to obey his command. Instead, she just sat there, staring at him, trembling all over, the sound of her heavy breathing filling the room. "Make me," she murmured.

The muscles in his jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed to angry slits. What the hell was she playing at? It was a trick! That's what the fuck it was. Just a Goddamn trick to get him to touch her. Sneaky little bitch. "If you started it, you'd damn well better finish it. Keep going. Otherwise, you can take your wet little pussy and get the fuck out of my office right now."

Her lips curled into a devilish smile. Pulling her hand away from her crotch, she placed her hands upon the arms of the chair and pushed herself up to her feet, strutting towards him without hesitation. "Why don't you finish it for me?"

There was no way he could control his cock even if he wanted to. The moment she got up from the chair and started towards him, he could feel it swell to an even greater size, straining painfully against his slacks. His heart pounded madly in his chest, and a huge lump formed in his throat, though from the vexated look in his eyes, he gave her no indication that he was on the verge of losing it. Setting the open box of orange chicken on his desk, he pivoted in his chair as she approached him, walking around to the opposite side of the desk. "I'm not in the mood to play Sultan with you, Decoy. If you're so Goddamn intent on finding some guy to rub your magic lamp and set that naughty little genie free, go talk to one of the extras."

Perching herself on the edge of his desk, she leaned a few inches closer to him, glancing down at the huge bulge in his pants and cocking a brow intriguingly. "Somehow I find that hard to believe, especially since," reaching out, she placed her hand over the bulge straining his slacks, rubbing him deeply with her fingers, "another part of you already is."

He gasped, his cock jerking involuntarily at the warm feel of her hand and the pressure of her fingers against the head of it. His breathing grew heavy, and as hot as he was, as damn good as it felt, he shot a glare up at her. Pushing aside his growing arrousal, and trying painstakingly to think with his actual brain instead of his dick, he grabbed a hold of her wrist, shoving her hand away angrily. "Get the fuck out of my office."

Lucy's lips formed into a pout, but she made no move to do such a thing. Instead, she made a show of hiking her skirt up and spreading her legs, the smell of her arrousal permeating the air and floating around his head. Gazing heatedly down at him, she placed her hand against her folds, letting her index and middle finger slide up through her slick and glistening labia before pulling her hand back. Leaning towards him, she placed her fingers upon his jaw line, letting her index and middle finger slide over his slightly parted lips, attempting to slip both fingers into his mouth. She wanted him to taste her. He could see it in her eyes.

As hard as he fought to resist his growing sexual urges, nothing could stop him from opening his mouth wider and allowing her fingers to slip inside. His eyes fell shut as he closed his mouth around her fingers, savoring and sucking the taste of her from them as she slowly slid them out. She tasted warm, sweet, and just the slightest bit sour.

"Touch me, Victor," she murmured, taking his hand in hers and placing it against her warm folds. "Here. Finish me. You know you want to. You know I want you to."

He opened his eyes, sighing softly as he felt his errection grow even harder--if that was even possible-- at the feel of his hand against her warm little pussy. As tempted as he was to fulfill her request, both his heart and his head were pulling him in different directions. His mind was screaming at him to give the little slut what she wanted, to show her exactly how much pleasure he could exude upon a woman when he put his mind, or rather, his cock into it. While a part of him wanted to pump and rub her pretty little rosebud deep with his fingers until she purred like a kitten, a bigger part of him, deep within his heart, still wanted Amy.

Pushing down the huge lump in his throat, he forced his mind back on Amy and worked up the nerve to yank his hand back. Exhaling sharply, he quickly pushed himself up to his feet, his chair rolling out from under him and banging against the wall. Brushing aside his suit jacket, he planted his hands firmly on his hips, glaring coldly down at her, his voice low and dangerous, using the same tone he used on his victums. "If I were you, sweetheart, I'd walk the fuck out of my office right now."

Her brows shot up, but he couldn't figure out whether she was actually surprised or simply intrigued by him, maybe even by his tone. He wouldn't be surprised in the least if even his voice managed to get her off. She seemed so Goddamn obsessed with him as it was. There was probaby not a damn thing in the world he could do that would turn her off. Slipping off of his desk, she planted her feet on the ground and took a step closer to him, gazing deeply into his eyes. "And if I don't?"

"Trust me, you don't want to find out. The best thing for you to do would be to turn around right now and walk away, save yourself from a world of pain."

The corners of Lucy's mouth turned up into a smirk as she placed both of her hands against his chest, letting them slide downward, in the direction of his rock hard cock. "You're right. I've been a bad, bad girl." Seizing the head of his cock in her right hand, she started to rub him deeply through his slacks. "Do you want me to bend over your desk so you can give me a spanking?"

He sighed softly, a deep groan rising up in his chest as he clenched his teeth together, his eyes falling shut for a split second. The heat in his pants increased ten fold and he could feel a bit of moisture accumulate beneath them. Jesus! He was dying for some kind of relief, and if she didn't jerk him off, he would probably wind up doing it himself once she walked out of the room. "Amy..." He moaned as she continued rubbing and tugging at his cock. "Oh Amy..."

Suddenly, the pressure around his cock grew considerably harder, almost painful. He groaned loudly, feeling her tug loose the clasp on his slacks and yank down his zipper, quickly slipping her hand inside his black cotton Versace briefs and wrapping her fingers tightly around his firey and swollen cock. Beads of sweat broke out at his temples and along his forehead, forgetting at the moment that Lucy was the one giving him a hand job.

"I'm not Amy." Lucy murmured, her warm breath caressing his left ear, her breasts pressing against his chest as she continued to jerk him off. His eyes snapped open at the mention of Amy, glaring coldly at her out of the corner of his eye. He forgot all about the hand down his pants jerking him off once he felt his blood boiling hot with on coming fury. "In fact, I'm ten times better than Amy. An amateur like her wouldn't know half of what it takes to get a man off. You could do so much better, starting with me." She took his earlobe between her lips and nibbled on it gently. "Fuck me, Victor."

Without warning, he lunged forward with a deep and vicious growl, seizing her by the throat and slamming her up against the nearest wall. As horny as he was, his rage had overpowered that horniness and now, he was out for blood, but if all else failed, he'd gladly settle for some serious deep tissue pain. "How's this for a start?" He snarled.

The nerve of the little slut! She'd planned this from the start, even before she waltzed into his office and started rubbing her wet little pussy for his viewing pleasure.

Lucy's eyes widened slightly in astoundment, but that astoundment came and went within a matter of seconds and her lips quickly twisted into a smirk. She grabbed a hold of his wrist, the look in her eyes changing as she stared lustfully up at him. "Not exactly what I was hoping for, but it'll do."

His brows drew together in thought, wondering if she got off on him hurting her too. What the hell was she? A massochist as well as a Goddamn tease? Possibly. "What the fuck do you think this is? A game?" Digging his fingers deeper into the nape of her neck, his hold instinctively grew tighter. She winced painfully, but her smirk remained. He glared coldly down at her, growling through his already clenched teeth. "I'm not playing games with you, Decoy. I've told you once, twice, I don't know how many Goddamn times not to fuck with me during business hours, to do the job I pay you twelve bucks an hour to do, and keep your hands far from my dick, but you just don't seem to learn, do you?"

She opened her mouth, attempting to utter a word but with the tightness of his hand around her throat, it didn't appear as though she could so she simply pressed her lips together and shook her head. "No..." She said, her voice no louder than a raspy whisper.

He loosened his grip on her throat, his eyes narrowing incriminatingly. "No, you don't. Tell me, just what the hell do I have to do to get it through your head?" Releasing his hold on her neck, he immediately grabbed a hold of her shoulders, yanking her towards him. "Do I have to beat it out of you?" Without so much as giving the bitch enough time to actually enjoy being against his rock hard cock, he slammed her against the wall, once, twice, three times. Lucy winced and cried out with each shrill and painful pound of her curvy frame against the very hard wall, but whether or not her cries were out of pain or pleasure, he couldn't be sure. "Like that? Huh?"

Breathing heavily, Lucy raised her right hand to her head, her eyes shut tightly as she touched the back of her head. After a couple seconds more of heavy breathing, she pulled her hand away from her head and opened her eyes, looking closely at her palm. Checking for blood? Perhaps, but her hand was clean. Not a spot of blood on it. Slowly lifting her chin, she looked up at him, and after a few seconds, the corners of her lips turned up in a smirk. "I'd like it even more if you were inside me." Placing both of her hands on her hips, she thrust her chest out, "but if roughing me up and punishing me for being such a bad girl is your idea of foreplay, then by all means, play on, baby."

That did it. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he yanked hard, tugging her forcefully in his direction, and finally succeeding in getting an actual cry of pain out of her. She winced painfully as she quickly reached up to grab his wrist. Seizing her throat in his opposite hand, he glared down at her, fire blazing in his eyes and in his blood, his fingers closing tighter around her pretty little neck. "The only thing I'm going to be playing with is your Goddamn entrails if you don't change your fucking ways, you little slut!"

Lucy blinked, her eyes widening in astonishment. She opened her mouth, a raspy and strangled breath escaping her.

"You're running out of life lines, sweetheart. I'm not in the mood for anymore of this whorish bullshit! What the hell did you expect? Huh? Did you honestly expect I would bend you over my desk and fuck you up the ass within ten seconds flat?"

Lucy winced, grabbing a hold of his wrist--the one that was around her throat--and stiffly shaking her head. "Please..." She murmured, the color starting to drain out of her face. "I can't..."

His brows arched expectantly. "What's that? Did you actually have something relevant to say? Or are you just preparing to utter yet another whorish come on?"

"I...I can't...breathe," she managed to choke out.

Victor cocked a brow down at her, immediately easing his grip on her throat, but refrained from letting her go. Not just yet anyway. No, he wanted to make her suffer, squirm a little for the sheer pleasure it gave him. "Better?"

She coughed a few times and sucked in a big breath of air before uttering a hoarse reply. "I heard the rumors."

His eyes narrowed considerably. "Rumors? What rumors?"

"About you and Amy. I know she dumped you."

His grip instinctively tightened once more, causing her to flinch. "Really. And just who the fuck did you hear that from? Hmm?"

Lucy's grasp tightened on his wrist, her eyes wide with panic as she opened her mouth, her voice no more than a tiny whisper. "Everyone."

He yanked hard on the strands of hair fisted in his hand, forcing her head backward as she cried out in pain. Letting go of her hair, he thrust his hand harder against her throat, forcing her back on her heels and slamming her back against the wall. "Who?" He shouted, his booming voice drowning out the sounds of her strangled and shallow breaths. Giving her the opportunity to both breathe and answer his question, he let his hand relax against her neck.

After a few seconds of coughing, she sucked in a big breath and spoke, her voice slightly hoarse. "I overheard a few of the make-up and costume ladies talking about it, but it all started with Raul, the hair stylist. I was passing by his room a few days ago and heard everything, about how much more pissed you seemed to be, how distracted you seem all the time, how she never stops by anymore. Well, I sort of figured out that last one all on my own."

His eyes narrowed irritably. Raul. Fucking gay freak! When he got his hands on the fag, he would make him regret he ever meddled in the personal affairs of Victor Bane. Firing him wouldn't be the half of what he'd do to the man. Pushing the fucking fag to the back of his mind, he focused his attention on the problem at hand. He'd deal with him later. Sighing deeply, he felt some of his aggression ease, his tone of voice calmer. "Is that why you came in here flashing your wet little pussy in an attempt to get me off?"

Her lips curved up into a smirk. "Maybe, but even if I hadn't heard the rumors, I still would've figured it out, eventually. I'm not blind, Victor. I recognize the signs when I see them. The broken nose, the black eye, all that pent up anger and aggression, all that sadness lingering behind those sexy and penetrating green eyes. I can spot a fallen man from a mile away."

"So you decided you'd come on to me, seduce me into rubbing your pretty rosebud on my lunch break, in the hopes that you would catch me on the rebound, maybe get yourself a rebound screw in the process?"

She shrugged. "Better me than her." Placing both of her hands against his chest, she slid her long and perfectly manicured fingernails down the front of his shirt, her tone falling to a husky and seductive whisper. "You're too good for her. She doesn't deserve you. You know you deserve better. I can give you better." He inhaled sharply as her right hand seized the head of his errection through his pants and she began rubbing it deeply. "Isn't that what you want? A real woman, who will cater to your every need, desire, and dirty fantasy?"

His hand went slack against her neck, his eyes falling shut all on their own. The muscles in his jaw clenched as did his teeth. Jesus! The fucking slut had successfully managed to manipulate his mind in addition to his cock. Heat surged through his pants, through his genitals, spreading through his whole body at an overwhelming rate. Slowly opening his eyes, he tried painstakingly to see past the intense lust clouding his gaze and his mind, tried to push his growing arrousal to the back of his mind. He was tempted. Goddamn it, was he tempted! He wanted to rip her clothes off, bend her over his desk and pound her full of cock right there and then. So, what was stopping him?

Letting his dick take control, and his hand fall away from her neck, he found himself succombing to the firey lust pumping through his blood. Placing his hand firmly against the small of her back, he yanked her abruptly in his direction, but suddenly, as he began to lean in, a voice came into his head leaving him frozen in place. She's not what you want. She's not Amy.

He blinked, his mind clearing. Holy shit! Amy. His sweet and spunky little Amy. What the fuck was this little slut doing? What the fuck was he doing?

"Fuck me, Victor." Lucy murmured against his lips. "Fuck me hard, fuck me now."

Before he even realized what the hell was happening, she grabbed the nape of his neck, pressing her lips firmly against his own, kissing him passionately. While his cock might have jerked in response, it wasn't enough to make him kiss her back. The fucking slut was just trying to get a rise out of him, a reaction, an inch of recognition that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. That was just it. If he gave the slut an inch, she'd take a fucking mile.

Time to end this.

Seizing her chin tightly between his thumb and index finger, he took a deep breath in an effort to calm the raging beast inside him. The one that wanted to snap her pretty little neck in half for ever thinking she could seduce him enough to forget about his sweet little Amy. If only for a minute or two. The deep breath didn't do shit for him and a split second later, he shoved her away from him with an angry growl, his force so intense that it sent her flying backward. Her head connected hard with the wall before she sank down to her knees, wincing painfully.

Knelting down to her level, he grabbed a hold of her throat, forcing her to look up at him. "I don't want you, Decoy. Get that through your Goddamn head! I want Amy. As hard as your naughty little tease act might have made me, no matter how hard you try, you'll never get me off the way that she does, and there's not a damn thing you can do to change that."

Lucy stared up at him, but from the distant look in her eyes, it appeared as if she were in a daze. If he had to guess, she was probably still seeing stars on account of her head slamming into the wall. "If you tell me what you want," she began in a slurred voice, "and how you want me, I can give it to you, any time, any place. I can be the bad girl, baby, or if you want me--"

"You know what I want, baby?" He snarled, his grip tightening on her throat. She flinched, quickly grabbing a hold of his wrist. "I want you to get the fuck out of my office before I break your pretty little neck!" Pulling his hand back, he sprang up to his feet. "Now!" He shouted angrily, pointing in the direction of the door, fully aware of the fire that was blazing in his eyes and coursing through his veins.

Scrambling up to her feet, she dashed towards the door, coughing and breathing shallowly, her hand clutching her throat.

"Oh, and sweetheart?"

Lucy stopped, her hand frozen on the knob as she turned to look over in Victor's direction, and although her face was devoid of emotion, he swore he could see a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"If you make one peep about what just happened between us, the pain I just caused you will be nothing compared to what I'll do next. Now go! Get back to work!"

"Yes..." He fixed her with a hard stare, sensing she was about to call him Victor, after he had specifically asked her not to. "Mr. Bane," she finished with a nod of regard before opening the door and slipping out of the room. His eyes narrrowed considerably, catching a hint of smile upon her face as she departed.

Goddamn slut! She had been thoroughly enjoying this, hadn't she? Every Goddamn minute of it. Had his aggressive behavior and violent outbursts made her cream her panties with delight? Did she get off to him playing the villian? Was that what made her hot?

Who gives a shit about Lucy.

Not him, that was for damn sure. The little slut wasn't his concern anymore. He should give a shit less what she thought of him, let alone how hot he made her. She wasn't Amy. She would never be Amy. While she might be good for getting his cock up, she didn't provide him with half the thrills that he got chasing Amy.

Exhaling sharply, he shook his head in disbelief before turning on his heels and marching back to his desk, where his lunch had undoubtedly turned cold and gone to waste, all on account of one very persistent whore. Dropping down into the chair against the wall, he stole a glance at his watch. He had wasted away his whole lunch hour on her, and now, he had less than five minutes to grab something to eat. If there had been time, he could have easily taken his food to the break room, warmed it up and finished it, but alas, there wasn't. The shrimp might not taste completely like shit, but the rest of it...fuck it.

Shoving the box of orange chicken into the plastic bag, he pulled out the small envelope the three shrimp were stuffed in and threw the rest of it in the trash bin beside his desk. He consumed all three shrimp in less than five minutes, downing them with another glass of scotch, the liquor doing little to flush out the lingering images of Lucy rubbing her slick little pussy and the head of his cock, but nevertheless, managed to calm the excess rage inside him.

Once he was finished, he pushed himself up to his feet, tugging at the collar of his suit jacket before turning and heading for the door. Truth be told, he was in no hurry. As far as he was concerned, which he was not, he wasn't on anyone's time clock but his own. So he'd walk in ten minutes late from lunch, big fucking deal. He was the boss. While he still had a company to oversee and lackies to dominate over, he had the power. He made the rules, and if any one of them so much as complained, well, they wouldn't end up in any better shape than Lucy when he was through with them.

As he made his way back out to the sound stage, he began contemplating his options on getting his little Amy to talk, actually sit down and talk to him, face-to-face. She might answer his text messages, but there was only so much one could say in a text, not to mention how Goddamn long it takes to type them up and his lack of patience to get a response. Screw texting her. They had to find her. He had to find her, sit her down, either by force or otherwise, and put an end to this tiring little game of cat-and-mouse.

Suddenly, a lightbulb turned on in his head, and he knew. It might be stupid. It might even wind up being a huge waste of his time, but at the moment, it was the only choice he had.

Munching down the crust as she finished off the fourth piece of her Barbeque chicken pizza, Courtney wiped her mouth on a napkin, and took one long and final sip from her glass of wild cherry pepsi. Reaching into her back pocket to pull out her brown Louis Vutton wallet, she tossed a few bills down on the table to cover the tip. After returning her wallet to the back pocket of her dark denim Hollister jeans, she quickly pulled out her red Motorola razor celluar and checked over the time. She still had eight minutes to spare before she had to return to work. Slipping her phone back into her pocket, she picked up the small California Pizza Kitchen box she'd placed the left over pizza in, slid out of the booth and rose to her feet.

Stepping out of the restaurant and into the bright afternoon sunlight, she reached up and slipped her brown tinted sunglasses over her eyes. As she made her way back to the store, she felt her phone vibrate and reached into her back pocket to retrieve it. God, why didn't she just get herself a wristlet or something? She was growing sick and tired of carrying it around in her back pocket, having to pull it out every other minute.

Both anticipating and hoping it would be Amy, her brows stitched together inquisitively when she glanced down at the caller ID and saw the unfamiliar number. In the back of her mind, a voice told her not to answer it, but maybe it was Amy. Maybe something had gone wrong. Oh God, what if Victor had found her, kidnapped her and was holding her in an unknown location? What if she had been trying for days to get to a phone but for some reason, he had her tied up to where she couldn't get to it?

Stop being paranoid, Court. Amy's fine.She has to be. After all, Zack had seen her two and a half hours ago when they'd gone grocery shopping. That asshole couldn't have tracked her down in two and a half hours, could he? Besides, didn't that prick have a job too? Maybe it was a wrong number. Sighing deeply, she ignored that voice lingering in her head and flipped open her celluar, holding it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hello, Courtney."

Stopping dead in her tracks, in the middle of the Hollywood & Highland courtyard, Courtney felt her heart stop for half a second, her blood running cold at the eerily familiar voice. Oh God, oh please, please. Please let Amy be okay. Her eyes fell shut as she started to pray. Pray that her previous assumptions hadn't been right, trying to reassure herself that Amy was still safe and sound back at Zack's and not in the hands of a brutal and psychotic killer.

"What's the matter, sweetie pie? Cat got your tongue? I know you're there...I canhear you breathing."

Damn, was she really breathing that loud? Exhaling sharply, her eyes narrowed irritably at the casual and surprisingly calm tone of his voice. "How the fuck did you get my number?"

A soft and sinister chuckle escaped him, the very sound making her sick to her stomach. "I have my ways."

While she didn't doubt him, she would sure like to know how the hell he had done so, unless he had gotten it from Amy's cell back when he'd kidnapped and forced her to take him back. Or maybe he had kidnapped her again. Oh please God, don't let it be true. "What the fuck do you want? Where's Amy? So help me God, if you hurt her--"

"It's a little hard for me to hurt her when I don't even know where the hell she is, but something tells me, you do. After all, you're her best friend, God knows you've spent years trying to protect her from the outside evils of the world, and I know damn well you had something to do with her sudden disappearance."

Was this prick bluffing just so she wouldn't come looking for Amy, or was he actually telling her the truth? She didn't have a damn reason to trust him, especially being the evil and unpredictable bastard that he was, but logic told her that if in fact he was holding Amy prisoner, his first intention probably wouldn't be to call her. Unless he was doing it for kicks simply to torment her while her best friend's life hung in the balance. "You really expect me to believe that?"

"Believe what? Look, this isn't a social call, you little bitch, and even if it was, you'd be the last person on my list I'd go to for a quickie on my lunch break."

"Oh what a shame." She remarked, her voice thick with sarcasm. "I really had my heart set on contracting an STD from a homicidal maniac."

"Where is she?"

Courtney scoffed. "Like I'd ever tell you."

"Where is she, Courtney?" He asked again, louder than before but his tone remaining calm.

"Go to hell, you prick."

There was a long moment of silence from his end, and for a second, she actually thought the bastard had hung up.

Then, she heard it.

Slow and heavy breathing.

A chill danced down her spine as her brows stitching together inquisitively, her heart pounding frantically in her chest. What the hell was he doing? What the hell was he waiting for? Why wasn't he saying anything?

"Big mistake, sweetheart."

The line went dead. He'd hung up.

Her blood ran cold at the sudden sound of those words, three little words, spoken so sinsterly, and yet, so eerily calm at the same time. For a few long seconds, Courtney stood frozen, the phone still to her ear, her heart racing. Slowly pulling the phone away from her ear, she looked down at her hand. She was shaking. The prick had actually made her shake! Well, at least he wasn't there to see it. She'd never give the prick the satisfaction of knowing he'd actually struck geunine fear in her.

Oh suck it up, Court! You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. Just forget the prick and get back to work. Sighing deeply, she flipped her cell closed and shoved it into her back pocket. Eyeing the people around her suspiciously, she continued in the direction of the store. She wouldn't put it past her that the bastard might be watching her. Then again, if he'd followed her to work, he probably would have made his move already. Or maybe he was waiting for night fall, like any other homicidal maniac.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt her cell vibrate again. Coming to a stand still, she prayed to God it wasn't that prick again. Taking a deep breath to calm her suddenly pounding heart, she reached into her back pocket for her phone, fixing her eyes upon the device and quickly feeling herself relax when she saw Zack's face in the tiny square screen.

"Thank God." Letting out a small sigh of relief, she flipped it open to answer it. "Yeah?"

"Hey! Where the hell are you? It's a feeding frenzy over here!"

"Dude, I'm coming! Just chill." She said, striding past the surrounding shops, power walking towards the stairs that would lead down to the store. "I got distracted."

"Distracted? By what? A guy? You know that N-E-R-D CD signing is tonight, there's not enough people here to ring and pass out the wrist bands."

"I know! I'm on my way! I'll be there in like three minutes."

"You better be, or your next paycheck is gonna be short more than a few cents."

She rolled her eyes towards the high marble ceiling inside the Hollywood & Highland shopping center, but before she could say anymore, he hung up on her. Dick.

Immediately quickening her pace, she strode past the surrounding shops, jogged down the stairs and finally walked through the glass doors of the store. She cringed when she saw how hectic things had become and the long line that had formed at the register Zack stood behind, hurrying to get each customer taken care of.

There was another register at the opposite end of the store near the street entrance, and although she couldn't see the actual register from where she stood , she could see the long line that extended out of the store and onto the sidewalk. Most people had been there at midnight to buy their CD and get their wristbands, but there was still a rush to get it, especially since wristbands and a place in line were on a first come, first serve basis with any signing. N.E.R.D definitely drew a crowd, and she should know since she had all of their past CDs.

"It's about time," Zack said testily, as she stepped quickly around the register to join him on the opposite side. After shoving a plush, seven inch Domo doll and another N.E.R.D CD into a bag, he attached a wristband to the wrist of a petite, blue eyed and long blonde haired female and handed her the bag, telling her to have a good day and sending her on her way.

Courtney lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head, set the leftover pizza down on the back counter and slipped her black Virgin Megastore lanyard--with her name badge attached to it--over her head. "Sorry." She barely glanced in his direction as she typed in her employee number and password on the register beside him and logged in. "There's some left over Barbeque chicken pizza on the counter back there if you want it."

"Thanks. Maybe I'll have some as soon as I get a moment to breathe."

Ignoring his remark, she spent the next twenty minutes helping Zack finish ringing up the customers until the line shrank down to two people. When Courtney rang up the last guest in her line, she leaned forward, placing her forearms on the front counter and exuding a weary sigh, her mind flashing back to Victor's words, those same three words she couldn't get out of her head and the long but eerie quiet before them, the deep breathing, the sinister tone of his voice just before he'd hung up. "Big mistake, sweetheart." She scowled, shaking her head in disbelief, hating that she had allowed herself to become so damn scared of those words, of him. Ever since he had grabbed her by the throat that day at his porn studio and shoved her to the ground, she had hated herself, hated how weak she had become, more psychologically than physically.

While she might have been ready and willing to kick the prick's ass nearly a week ago when he had kidnapped and was torturing her best friend, she was beginning to get the feeling that taking him on would be a hopeless battle, a battle that she, nor any other woman of her size could win. He might be smarter, maybe even faster, and he was sure as hell bigger, but if she was going to go down, she was going to go down fighting, to the very end.

"Hey, what's up? Courtney?"

Uncertain whether he was talking to her and not someone else, it wasn't until she heard her name that she looked over in Zack's direction, putting her thoughts on the back burner for the time being. "Huh?"

"What's a matter?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah right. It's not nothing. Something's up, I know. You got that look in your eye."

She pushed herself away from the counter, her brows furrowing considerably. "What look?"

"That look." He pointed out, as he stepped towards her. "The one I always see when you're worried about something. Why do I suddenly get the vibe that you're plotting revenge? Something's, no, someone is bugging you and I want to know who it is."

Tossing her head to one side, she exuded a deep sigh, "trust me, you don't wanna know."

"I don't wanna know? Come on! I'm your brother, and when my sister is having a shit fit about something, I'm obligated to be informed. Come on, who's ass do I have to kick?"

She shook her head, averting her gaze down to her feet. "No one."

"Oh come on! Tell me!" He reached out and started to tickle her sides, "I'm gonna tickle you until you tell me."

"No!" Courtney cried out in surprise, giggling as she grabbed at his wrists in an attempt to stop his actions. "Stop! Zack! All right, I'll tell you!" Shoving his hands away, her features quickly turned somber, the deep scowl returning to her face.

Zack leaned forward, pointing a finger at his right ear. "I'm listening."

After a few long seconds of silence, she came out with it. "Victor called me."

Zack blinked. "What?" A look of vexation filled his gaze, his features turning cold as he crossed his arms firmly over his chest. "What the fuck did he say?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a new customer heading in their direction, a tall, gothic looking guy with spikey black hair and tattoos up and down each arm, a stack of CDs in his slender and pale hands. "Zack, there's a customer."

"Don't try and change the subject, missy, I want to know, what the fuck did that dick say?"

Courtney's eyes widened, her eyes shifting towards gothic guy, who, stared dumbfoundedly at the two of them. Gothic guy cleared his throat and took a tentative step forward.

Zack froze, slowly turning his head in the guy's direction, his face flushing in embarassment as his lips quickly stretching into a sheepish smirk. "Sorry. Just a little sibling work rivalry, you know how it is. I mean, come on, working alongside your sister? I gotta be both mommy and daddy around here." He laughed lightly as he proceeded to ring the guy's purchases.

Gothic guy laughed along with him.

Courtney rested her elbow upon Zack's shoulder, turning to look over at the other guy, "he wishes. He might be my boss, but at home, he's just my bratty big brother."

"Maybe, but when you're at work, he wears the pants." The guy remarked.

"That's what I'm saying!" Zack exclaimed, as he took the guy's money and put it into the register, stealing a glance at Courtney. "See? He knows where I'm coming from." Handing back the guy's change, he put his receipt in the bag, and handed him his stuff. "There you go, man. Have a good day."

"Smooth, real smooth." Courtney chuckled. "You realize you just made yourself look like an ass? You'll be lucky if he doesn't report you after what he heard."

Zack made a face and scoffed. "Report me to who? The mayor of L.A.? This is my store, remember? I can curse in my own store. I can do whatever the hell I want in my store. If I want to strip naked and do laps around Hollywood & Highland to attract a crowd of horny onlookers, I can do it, cause it's my store."

She cringed, waving her hands in front of her face. "Okay, so didn't need the visual."

"What the fuck did that dick say?"

Noticing the suddenly vexated tone of his voice, she froze, meeting his hard gaze and sighing deeply. "Not a whole hell of a lot. All he wanted was to know where Amy was, and he called me why? For no other reason but to demand that I tell him where she's at. He knows damn well I'm the only person who knows, but I sure as hell wasn't going to talk."

"You didn't tell him, did you?"

"No! Why? Do you really think I would do that, to my best friend?"

"No, of course not, but when that dick is involved, I don't know what the hell to think," he paused to plant his hands firmly upon his hips, vexation shining in his eyes, "other than kicking his ass to the dark side of the moon, which I gotta tell you, I'm dangerously close to doing right now for trying to fuck with my sister. What else did he say?"

"Nothing much. I did a little trash talking, told him to go to hell, and..." Her voice trailed off, her heart starting to pound as Victor's words came rushing back to her.

"And what? Courtney, what...did...he...say?"

She could see by the wild look in his eyes and the tightness of his lips that his patience was wearing thin, and he was about to get pissed, but to avoid another scene or show of embarassment on either of their parts, she had to tell him. "He just said, 'big mistake, sweetheart,' then hung up. I don't even know what the hell he meant by it, but by the tone in his voice, it sounded like a threat to me."

Zack dropped his hands from his hips, his fingers curling into tight fists as he sucked in a deep breath, turned on his heels and started pacing aggitatedly back and forth. He ran his fingers through his hair a couple times, grunted a few times and then marched back up to her. "Tell me where this asshole is, tell me where the fuck he lives right now so I can march down there and rip him a new asshole."

Courtney placed both of her hands on his biceps, "not so fast, Mike Tyson. Listen, I'm not going to tell you or let you do anything, okay? This asshole has already caused enough pain to my best friend, and there's no way in hell I'm going to stand back and watch my big brother get hurt too."

His features softened, his shoulders slumping in defeat as the corners of his lips drooped in a regretful scowl. "I'm not going to get hurt, but I'm not going to stand back and let him fuck with my sister either. I love you, Courtney. I'm just trying to protect you, is that so bad?"

She sighed sadly. "And I appreciate that, but you don't have to take Victor on to prove how macho you are or to defend my honor. I can take care of myself. Besides, it's not like the prick hunted me down and tried to beat the shit out of me for information, he called me. If he calls again, I just won't answer my phone, and if I don't answer it, the prick can't trace the call."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Zack said, crossing his arms firmly over his chest, his dark brows lowering in suspicion. "What if you're wrong? What if he's already done it?"

Before Courtney had time to process that thought, much less worry about it, a warm and familiar voice drew her attention.

"Hey Courtney."

A friendly smile appeared on her face as Michael stepped up to her register, placing a small stack of items on the counter. A few DVD's and a couple of CDs. "Hey Michael! What's up, Doc?" She chuckled softly, realizing how corny that probably sounded.

He chuckled along with her. "Not much actually. I just decided I'd stop by to pick up a few CDs, and a few movies I've been meaning to see but haven't had the time to go out and rent yet." He stole a glance over his shoulder, "wow! You guys are pretty busy today, huh?"

"Yeah, it gets kinda crazy in here when there's an album signing going on." She replied, snatching up her hand scanner and starting to ring up his purchases. "The Neptunes are in town. You know? N-E-R-D?" Michael gave her a quizzical look and shook his head. "Nevermind. I get it, hip hop isn't exactly your thing."

"Not exactly. I'm more of an alternative and adult contemporary type of guy." He smirked, his eyes wandering away from Courtney and over to Zack, just before glancing over his left shoulder and scanning over the rest of the store. "I didn't see Amy around. Is she here today?"

"No." She met Michael's gaze before exchanging a look with Zack, who, stared skeptically at Michael, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She froze, her eyes shifting inquisitively between the two for a couple seconds before she came to the realization that, duh, they didn't know one another. Pausing in what she was doing, she stopped to introduce them. "Sorry, I totally forgot. Zack, this is Michael. He was--used to be Amy's ex-boyfriend." She mouthed the words, "before Victor," to Zack before glancing back at the other man. "Michael, this is my brother, Zack."

Michael smiled softly as he extended his hand to a dumbfounded looking Zack. "It's nice to finally meet you, Zack."

Courtney's brows furrowed in bewilderment at the look on Zack's face, wondering why he was so hesitant to shake Michael's hand. "Zack!" She nudged him in the side with her elbow, nodding towards Michael.

Zack blinked, jumping at her sudden nudge but finally gave Michael his hand with a friendly, almost forced half-smile. "Y-yeah, yeah, nice to meet you too, man."

"So, Amy isn't working today, huh?" Michael inquired, but didn't seem to be phased at all by Zack's hesitation.

"No, actually, I--uh," he paused to scratch the top of his head and run his fingers through his hair a couple times, "I gave her the day off today."

Nodding his head in regard, Michael's brows furrowed in concern. "How's she doing, by the way?"

Courtney exchanged another look with Zack, her bewilderment growing when she noticed how uncomfortable he seemed. Uncomfortable? By Michael? Warm, gentle, sweet, doctor Michael? She would understand if he was uncomfortable around someone new, but more often than not, Zack could easily warm up to anyone. Well, anyone except homicidal maniacs in the form of Victor or his loser ass friend...whatever the hell his name was. Zack was generally an outgoing person who could strike up a conversation with anyone, even a complete stranger, but this wasn't like him. What was with him anyway?

"She was a little shaken up over this nightmare she had last night, but she's doing better today."

Michael's brows drew closer together, the concern on his face seeming to grow as he nodded his head in understanding. "She's been having nightmares?"

Zack nodded gently, rubbing the nape of his neck with his hand. "Yeah. Every now and then. I mean, she's safe, with me, you know, I got her--it covered. With the protection. Not...that other thing." He chuckled nervously. "She's staying with me is what I'm saying, so she's safe--did you find everything you need today?"

Michael blinked, his brows stitching together in bewilderment. "Yeah, I did actually, thank you. Well, it's nice to know that she's safe, for the most part." He brought his gaze back to Courtney when she announced his total. "How are you doing?" After removing his mastercard from his brown leather wallet, he swiped it through the card machine and signed his name on the screen.

"Me?" Courtney asked, as she snatched up an empty plastic bag from beneath the register and set his things inside it.

He replaced the plastic pen back in its cradle and looked up at her, his full lips stretching into a tender smile. "Yes, you. Are you staying safe too?"

Noticing Zack staring at her out of the corner of her eye, she glanced up at him. He stood facing her, his arms crossed firmly over his chest, a firm almost paternal expression upon his face that she swore resembled their dad. Creepy. Sighing softly, she snatched Michael's receipt from the register console and shoved it into the bag. "I'm all right. Don't worry about me, Doc. I can take care of myself."

Zack sighed wearily. "What's she's trying to say is, she's too stubborn to ask for help when someone offers it to her."

Courtney's cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink, quickly shooting a glare at the outspoken jerk that called himself her brother. Where the hell did he get off saying that about her? While she would admit to being stubborn at times, she didn't need him to point out her faults in public, much less to one of her good friends. She made a mental note to get him back for it later. Ass. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"This is where I need to be," he replied gruffly. "Don't forget who the boss is around here, missy."

She rolled her eyes dramatically, meeting Michael's gaze. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Michael held her gaze, the concern written all over his face. "If you need a safe place to stay, as I said before, you're always welcome to stay with me. I have a guest bedroom that hasn't been used for a while. You're more than welcome to use it, plus my house is equipped with a state of the art Brinks home security system."

"Wow! You couldn't get any safer than if you stayed at the white house." Zack interjected.

Courtney exhaled sharply, ignoring Zack's remark and feigning a small but kind smile. "Thank you for the offer, Michael. Really, but I think I'll be okay. I've got my dad nearby if I need him. His bedroom's right across the hall from mine so if anything happens, I know he'll come running."

Thank God for that. She had almost forgotten that she still had her dad for protection. Zack might have moved out and into his own place, but until she and Amy could afford their own, she found comfort in knowing that her dad was still close at hand. Being a relator definitely kept him busy for most of the day, but that didn't stop him from making time for his family. For her. He had promised her time and time again that he would always be there to protect her, as he had fought so hard to protect her mother when she was alive. It was mostly the reason why he never allowed Courtney to be alone after dark. If he couldn't be home to keep her safe, he would have someone there who could, regardless of the numerous times she insisted she was a big girl and could take care of herself.

Michael nodded in regard, a soft smile crossing his face. "Well, if you change your mind..."

"I'll let you know," she finished with a soft smile. "Thank you, again."

"Of course. Take care of yourself, all right?" He returned her smile with one of his own before picking up his bag. She nodded her head in approval. Giving Zack another nod of regard, he turned to walk away, "it was nice meeting you, Zack."

"Yeah, you too."

Michael stopped short, turning back to face the two of them. "You wouldn't mind if I stopped by to see her, would you?"

"Amy? Oh, uh..." Zack cast his gaze away from the man's face, scratching the back of his head before casting a glance over at Courtney.

She sighed wearily, rolled her eyes and grabbed him by his orange, "Attack of the Mole People" T-shirt, which had a picture of a guy playing the Wacka-Mole game, and three large moles with hammers standing behind him, preparing to tap him on the shoulder. Pulling him in, she went on to whisper into his ear, "Zack, come on, he's a doctor. He's harmless. I swear, you can trust him."

He sighed softly, his shoulders slumping in defeat, bringing his attention back to Michael. "No. Go right ahead. See her. Tell her I said 'hi.'" He cringed, quickly punching his fist down at the air in front of him and casting his gaze at the floor.

Courtney stared at him, her eyes narrowing inquisitively. This weird behavior of his was growing tired and more frustrating the longer it went on. If he didn't stop, she would do more than just grab his shirt, she'd beat his ass. Exhaling sharply, she shook her head, rolled her eyes, grabbed a small notepad and a pen from beneath the register and set it on top of the counter, motioning Michael over. "Come here, I'll give you the address." Quickly scrawling the directions and address to the apartment on the small piece of paper, she ripped it off and handed it to him.

He thanked her for the information before she and Michael exchanged good-byes, watching as he turned to leave. She waited until he was completely out of the store before turning towards Zack, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. "All right, what the hell was that all about? What's up with you? Why are you acting so weird?"

Zack sucked in a big breath, ran his fingers through his hair a couple times, exhaled sharply then finally turned to face her. "I kissed Amy," he blurted. "There, I said it."

Courtney froze. Zack? Kissed Amy? Her best friend, Amy? She didn't know whether to be shocked, angry, disgusted, sick, or just plain amused. Never, in her wildest dreams could she ever have imagined the two of them would get together, let alone share a kiss. Amy had never harbored any feelings for Zack that went beyond platonic. She had always seemed to think of him as her brother, and as far as she knew, Zack had always treated her like a second sister. Now this? And why now? Especially when they had bigger problems to deal with?

She didn't realize Zack was even calling out to her until his hand passed through her line of vision. Blinking back her astonishment, she met his gaze.

"Hel-lo...earth to Courtney," he said, waving his hand in front of her face. "Did you hear a single word I said?"

"Yes, I did. Loud and clear. Are you kidding me? You actually kissed Amy?"

Zack shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Why would I kid about something like that? Yes! I kissed Amy."

"You kissed her, not the other way around. When? Wait, are you two together now?"

He sighed deeply. "No. I kissed her, last night, but that was it. You know, for a second, she actually seemed receptive to the idea, but then, she pulled away and then, ugh, there was this God awful, awkward funk in the air, so we both decided to just forget about it and go to sleep."

A soft and somewhat allieviated sigh escaped her. "Well, if it was between you and that homicidal prick, I'd much rather she be with you."

"Well thanks, I appreciate the thought, if nothing else."

"So that's the reason you were acting so weird around Michael, because of the kiss."

"Who wouldn't be?" Zack said. "It's not everyday you bump into the ex-boyfriend of a girl you almost made-out with the night before, you know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I get it."

"So you're not mad about it? Not mad that I kissed your best friend?"

"I'm not mad. Surprised, no, make that astonished, but hey," she shrugged with a smirk, "you're my brother, she's my friend, I'll get over it...as easy as anyone else would on those critically acclaimed TV dramas."

Zack slid up beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Yeah, well, speaking of dramas, I really think you should put your stubborn streak on the backburner until this shit blows over and stay with Michael. Or if anything else, stay with me. You can crash on the couch. It'll be like old times. Just as long as you're safe."

"I am safe." She sighed wearily. God, when would they give this up? She might be secretly terrified of Victor, but she wasn't ready to admit it to herself or anyone for that matter. Playing the damsel-in-distress role wasn't her thing, and she wasn't about to cry wolf over a stupid phone call. She wasn't one to run from her problems, and just because she was dealing with a homicidal maniac, didn't mean she had to put up a white flag and go looking for shelter until the big bad wolf went away. She could take care of herself. Just like she always did. Just like she always had.

"Look, like I said before," she continued, "I appreciate what you guys are trying to do for me and how much you care, but I'm fine. I'll be fine. I have dad nearby to protect me, and I have me. I'm a big girl now, Zack. I can take care of myself." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him into a warm hug.

It only took a second for him to return the gesture, his strong arms enveloping her waistline and holding her close, his cheek resting against the top of her head. "I hope so."