Roger grabs my hand, holding my wrist tightly so I can’t walkaway. “Belle, you don’t have to deny yourself any longer.”
“I need this job,” I whisper.
I’m saying it for my own benefit as much as Roger’s. Tryingto remind myself why I’m still here, why I put up with thisshit.
Elise’s torn shoes. Our too-expensive apartment. Fuckinggroceries.
I have bills to pay, and I need this job.
Roger nods and pats my arm with his other hand. “I know.Which is why this can stay between us. Nothing will change.”
His hand slides up my forearm and then higher. He brushesacross the sleeve of my shirt and then hooks his fingers aroundmy shoulder to pull me closer to him. I try to resist, butunderneath his ill-fitting clothes, Roger is surprisingly strong.
