Honor felt him before she opened her eyes, his nakedness against hers, his fingers tracing meaningless whorls across her back. As if he were trying to capture the feeling of her skin under his fingertips and lock it in his memory before ...

The awful weight in her chest came back in all its hateful glory, making a mockery of all her efforts to banish it, to make what was to happen, what had to happen, less painful.

She felt a rush of heat to her face as her mind replayed the last day and night, twenty-four hours of pure carnal bliss and excess.

She remembered every nasty, prurient act in every minute detail, every time she had taken him into her mouth, every time she had shrieked as he tongued and licked another come out of her, every time he had entered her body.

He had been as frantic and hungry as she had been. He had ridden her inside and outside and everywhere in between, more than once finding themselves finishing somewhere very different from where they started.

She remembered starting to fuck him in the bathroom somehow leading to them rutting on the living room carpet, which somehow ended up with her screaming, bent over the kitchen island, fingering her clit as he emptied his load inside her spasming pussy.

Then, from the balcony, they had ended up climaxing on the floor of the master bedroom, mere inches from making it to the bed. She had left another wet patch on the carpet, one more of many.

There had barely been a moment when he was not touching, licking, kissing, or fucking her.

Including during her call to David, as she lay prone on the bed and he had lain on top of her, inside her, his hands gripping her breasts as he hungrily ran his tongue along her neck and shoulders, torturing her with his hardness as she strained and struggled to concentrate.

The truth of it was that the call was entirely unnecessary. It was for the sheer cruelty and wickedness of it that she had called her fiancee as another man was repeatedly sheathing himself inside her.

She had come from that, biting hard into a pillow as her orgasm hit, not hearing a word David was saying about his latest legal exploits in the Far East.

"Honor?" David queried after an inexplicable length of silence.

Marq had cruelly yanked her to her hands and knees, stroking harder into her, making her clutch and tear at the sheets, gritting her teeth to keep from giving voice to the shocks of pleasure he was giving her.

It took everything in her to answer her fiancee in something close to a normal voice. "Yes, David?"

"Is everything alright? Did you hear me?"

"Uh ... you went offline for a while ..." she let out a yip as Marq squeezed a swollen nipple, making her arch against him. He was getting rougher with her, telling her his own orgasm was coming as she grinded back against him.

How could David not be hearing the slapping of Marq's body against her, she wondered? How could he not hear the stress and shaking in her voice, the harshness of her breathing?

"I was saying I'm missing you, and I can't wait to see you."

Marq chose that moment to exit her pussy, and she had to choke off her squeal of protest, writhing, angered at his sudden disconnection from her.

He grasped her in the next moment, manhandling her onto her back, making her gasp as he spread her legs open. He growled as his head went between them, his tongue making sharp contact with her still spasming pussy.

"I miss you too," she lied, choking off a sob, bringing a pillow to her mouth to bite on as Marq shared a deep and hungry kiss with her vagina.

"Sorry, but I need to go, David!" she said, her voice going up several octaves. Marq's tongue had found her clit, flickering over it, before traveling down to her entrance.

"What was that?" David asked, sounding alarmed. "What just happened?"

"Nothing ..." she gasped. "I just ... I just sneezed ..." Marq's tongue dipped inside her and she whimpered before bringing the pillow to her teeth again.

His tongue was back on her clit, flickering over the hood, and it was clear it was going nowhere from there. And then he had started to suck on her.

"But ..." David began.

Honor cut the call.

And then she had screamed, grasping Marq's head with both hands, holding him to her slit, her hips flexing up against his marauding mouth.

She heard the phone ringing, but she ignored it, ignored everything except the man between her legs. One finger entered her, then a second, curling and stroking, lips locked on the swollen nub above her entrance, his tongue pressing hard as she exploded, liquid gushing out of her pussy.

She was lying on her side, curled up in the fetal position, still coming down from her come when he entered her again, her shriek of delight answering his own gasp of pleasure as he gripped her breasts, settling into her body. "Oh my @#&%! Yes!"

He was rough with her, each thrust into her pussy hard and accompanied by a kneading, a bite, a squeeze. She kept her eyes open, focusing on him as he rode her, only closing them as she kissed him back when he grasped her at her nape, lifting her head up so he could take her lips.

It was uncomfortable but she endured it, the pleasure he was giving her more than the making up for the temporary discomfort. Besides that, she loved kissing him.

She opened her eyes again when he let her go, looking at him again, being present, not wanting to miss a moment of him enjoying her body. Of being his odalisque. She grunted, moving with him, his grip on her tightening as she felt him stiffen, losing his rhythm as he reached his peak. They cried out together when he came, spurting his cum inside her, her walls fluttering around him as he sent her over the edge.

Her phone was ringing again when she came to, and she realized that she had flung it away, off the bed.

She listened to it ring again, making no effort to get to it.

In two weeks, she had gone from leaping across the room whenever she heard the ringtone she had set exclusively for the man she had planned to spend the rest of her life with, to feeling nothing as she allowed it to ring out.

She began to sob again when Marq gathered her in his arms, sniffling as she buried her face in his neck. She was sweetly tender in multiple places, but that was not why she cried as Marq held and caressed her.

The weight in her chest was back, and it was all she could do to breathe.

They had less than twenty-four hours before she would be getting on her flight back to the real world, and there was no time for talk, for anything beyond getting their fill of each other.

Even food. Room service delivered every meal but Honor could barely remember what the Grand Imperial's kitchens sent up. Mostly, she ate naked on his lap, needing him touching her, and, for the first time, not really paying attention to what passed her lips.

She had gotten to use the 'Holiday Sex Guide' after all, getting more than her money's worth. Marq had insisted that they try one position after another throughout the morning. Honor had gone along, spasming at each entry into her pussy, distantly amazed at his discipline and control when he would exit seconds later, aroused at his manhandling and the sheer prurient wickedness of it as he rudely repositioned her so they could try the next, making up for lost time.

It reminded her so much of their 'experimenting' on the swing on the island that she had felt tears welling up, but she had savagely suppressed it, focusing on the pleasure of being repeatedly filled, of being thoroughly enjoyed by a man like a child discovering a new toy.

She had started crying in the afternoon anyway, right around the time she realized that she had less than a full day before she would be leaving him behind to go home.

Time had become the enemy. Seeing a clock the day before, the seconds and minutes advancing, bringing her closer to leaving Bangkok, to leaving him, to leaving the fantasy world he had created for her - being his odalisque - had only added to the weight in her chest.

Each time he would hold her as she sobbed, saying nothing, kissing and caressing her, until his presence, his touch, would reignite her need and she would meld herself against him again, drawing his face to her own, her lips touching his as she would whisper her need for him. Then she would adopt the odalisque's pose, leaning back on her hands and spreading herself, embracing her role.

"Fuck me. Mr. Haydn."

He obliged her, always, unable to deny her anything. And afterwards, she would cry again.

She remembered; she had demanded another 'sit-still' toward the end of the night, smiling down at him as she carefully took him inside her. They were on the balcony, on the lounger, and she had cooed her delight as she settled herself on his member, her hands stroking his chest as he ran his hands over her body.

Before him, she had never realized just how significant, how profound a woman taking a man inside her was, how she comforted and relieved him, how she acknowledged his manhood and expressed her womanhood by allowing him to fill her.

It was the very definition of what an odalisque was, she thought, thinking of 'Khosros' and his favorite, the latter's pride and joy in simply sheathing and holding her Emperor.

And Honor Banet wanted to sheath, and hold, Marq Haydn for as long as she could.

She told him more stories of her time in culinary school in Bordeaux. He told her about his military training after his degree. She asked him more questions about astronomy and his travels around the world. She told him about the cookbook she had almost completed but was too nervous to have published.

Anything to prolong the delicious feeling of him connected with her, filling her, to help her 'sit-still' and simply 'hold' him. She didn't want to think, to have to come up with stories for him, so she just told him what was true.

It was dangerous to be so open with him, especially when she was leaving him in less than twelve hours, especially when he was looking at her like he was, especially with the weight in her chest at the inevitability of her departure.

But she was done with caution, exactly for that reason, deciding to just let go and just let herself feel. Even sensible, disciplined, fastidious Honor Banet had fallen silent at that.

She was also nearly done staying still. Marq was straining, and she was suffering too. The pauses, every so often for them to kiss, to hold him to her breasts so he could lick and suck them, so he could bury his face in her neck, did not help.

"Are you moving?" she asked, their foreheads touching. "Stop."

"No, I'm not."

A pause.

"Stay still, Mr. Haydn!"

"I am, Miss Banet," Marq growled, breathing harshly too. "You're moving," he accused her.

"I'm not!" Honor cried.

She was panting, all of her attention on where they were joined, feeling every inch of him inside her, her nether lips and walls surrounding him, the way he was pulsing as his grip tightened on her.

"Oh my @#&%!" she moaned one last time.

Then she gave up and began to flex her hips, bouncing on him and leaning down to seize his lips as he moved with her. She came quickly, uncaring of anyone hearing her, and then so did he, grasping her to him, writhing underneath her.

She woke up a long while later, aware of his diminished presence in her pussy, still inside her. He was already awake and stroking her back, and it felt contemplative. Tears welled up in her eyes again.

Somehow, he had picked her up after that and carried her from the balcony to her bedroom, the room she had spent her first night in, holding her in his arms as she shook with quiet sobs before falling asleep.

And now she was awake again, determined not to cry anymore despite the anvil in her chest.

"Good morning, Miss Banet," he said quietly.

She held up a hand, reaching blindly on the bedside table, until Marq dropped something in her hand with a chuckle. A 'Fresh Morning!' ball. She quickly popped it into her mouth and crushed it.

"Good morning, Mr. Haydn," she said, finally, lifting herself up to kiss him. It lasted much longer than she had initially intended, and ended much sooner than she ended up wanting.

"Yum ..." she breathed, smiling as his hands cupped her bum.

They kissed again, and she was breathing hard when they were done, again deeply regretting her 'no kissing' rule on their first night together, even if it had been fairly short-lived. His member was at full attention, distracting her with its promises as it poked into her flesh.

"I need to be inside you, Honor Banet," Marq said, voice rasping, his accent more pronounced. "Now."

She had imagined their last time to be after she had showered and cleaned up, not cum and sweat streaked from the day before. But he clearly didn't care, and neither did sensible, disciplined, fastidious Honor Banet.

She smiled and nodded, not trusting herself to speak, the thought of refusing him impossible. Not least because she needed him inside her just as much.

The sun was up high enough that she knew she should look at the clock to check the time. Her flight took off just before noon and she would need to be at the airport at least two hours before it did.

She considered the very real possibility that she might very well be past the time she could make it to the airport to make her flight.

But she didn't care.

She gazed up at him as he entered her, her knees going up to take him in deeper. They kissed for a long time, touching, caressing, exploring, as he remained unmoving inside her, simply savoring their joining, as if they were in another 'sit-still', albeit with him on top of her.

Then he began to move, riding her slowly as she undulated with him, making tiny gasping noises in his ear. He stopped to lavish his tongue over her lips, chin and neck, bending himself to take each hard pointing nipple into his mouth, his cock almost leaving her cunt, making her lift her pelvis to follow him.

She squealed as he pushed back inside her again, slamming into her hard at the last.

"I'm going to take my time with you, Honor," he warned.

"Take. Your. Time. Mr. Haydn," she answered, her resolve not to cry anymore shattered to pieces. "Take all the time you want."

She almost screamed when he stroked and kissed her tears away. He shouldn't be doing that, looking at her like that, making the weight in her chest so crushing ...

Then he began to move again and she focused on that instead, on the pleasure, the oneness with him.

True to his word, he took his time, making it clear he was savoring every moment, every touch, every kiss, every slow but hard stroke into her pussy, every grinding against her. She held on to him, pushing everything else from her mind as she gave herself to simply being present, to enjoying him, his presence inside her, his enjoyment of her.

Her orgasm arrived almost without warning, building up suddenly and exploding out of her with a gush of liquid as she shrieked, soaking the sheets underneath her.

He had exited her as she spasmed, kissing his way down her body, hurried but disciplined, excitedly heading to her core to feed on her, but still making sure to enjoy the journey there. She hissed and cried out wordlessly when he bit her nipples, then sucked soothingly on them. His lips and tongue made their way down her belly from the valley between her heaving breasts.

Honor spread herself, not thinking, obeying a woman's instinct as old as time, knees up, hands holding her thighs as far apart as they could go for him. He teased her at first, kissing and licking everywhere except where she needed him.

Until she had called out his name in pained frustration, and suddenly he was sharing a tongue-filled kiss with her nether lips. She had shrieked at that, her entire body spasming.

Again, he took his time, exploring her pussy with his tongue, kissing, licking and sucking on her slit, listening to her whimper and wail as he reduced her to a quivering wreck. Then he added his fingers, working her in tandem with his mouth until she had screeched out another gush of liquid, that he had hungrily lapped up as she held his head, teeth gritted.

She was sobbing when he began the journey up, stopping again at her breasts, torturing her with lips, tongue and teeth before reaching her lips. She tasted herself on his mouth as he slid inside her again, her body flexing to accept him. She cupped his face, licking and kissing him clean as he resumed his slow and hard stroking into her pussy. Then she had buried her face in his neck, arms locked around his neck, urging him to fuck her to his heart's content, feeling another orgasm building up.

But he stopped, gasping. Then he had exited her, making her cry out in protest until he grabbed and turned her onto her belly, shoving a pillow under her pelvis. He fell on top of her, grunting and grasping her breasts as he entered her prone body.

She went stiff, aroused by his unapologetic manhandling, taken over the edge as he bit into her neck, grunting as he resumed his stroking into her pussy, going deeper into her body, uncaring of her predicament as he fucked her through her come.

He went faster, gripping her harder as she collapsed under him, whimpering as she completely surrendered herself to his using her, her gasps and sharp intakes of breath ramping up as her movements ramped up to match his pistoning into her cunt. "Oh my @#&%! Yes! Come inside me! Please! Inside me!"

He roared when he finally released, inside her as she had pleaded. She had turned her head back, twisting herself so she could watch him, so she could see his face as he unloaded himself inside her, chasing that feeling of pride and joy that she had pleasured him.

He collapsed on top of her, his body sweat covered, mingling with her own, even then having the presence of mind to roll them both to the side, so his full weight would not be on top of her.

She began to cry again as soon as her breathing returned to normal, as he held her tightly to him, his hands cupping her breasts and belly, saying nothing, just being there.

She finally calmed, sniffling back her sobs as she unconsciously relaxed in his arms, feeling contained and safe, even with the crushing weight beneath her breasts.

She desperately wanted to remain where she was. His odalisque, in his arms. With him. She wanted him inside her again, to 'sit-still' and sheath and hold him for as long as she could, to make him come, to swallow him into her mouth and take his cum in every orifice she had.

And so, for the first time in a long while, she allowed sensible, disciplined Honor Banet to assume full control.

"What's the time?" she asked, quietly.

"7:32," he said.

She closed her eyes, wishing she had woken up earlier, that she had never fallen asleep. That, she - they - had more time. "I have to go," she said.

Her flight was at 11:50.

For a long moment, he was motionless, but then he released her, his hands leaving her breasts and belly, and she almost started crying again, swallowing before she stood up from the bed. She looked behind her at him, seeing him watching her with his trademark neutral expression, knowing that returning to kiss him as she so desperately wanted, would be a mistake.

Instead, she smiled sadly at him and headed into the bathroom. 

She stared at herself in the mirror, stricken by what she saw there. She felt a surge of heat rush through her; at the sheer eroticism of the woman looking back at her, lips and nipples swollen, body marked with love bites, still wet with arousal, the markings and the chain wrapped around her.

She was beautiful, she thought, confused, almost unable to believe it was herself she was seeing. 

It couldn't last, sensible, disciplined Honor Banet knew. She, the woman in the mirror, wasn't real. She had to say goodbye to her. 

She brushed her teeth before she removed her zanjir chain, unclasping it from behind her neck, freeing her nipples and removing it from her waist and thigh. Tears filled her eyes as she placed it on the counter.

She cried in the shower as she felt all traces of him running off her body, at once hoping and dreading that he would join her, knowing full well that if he did, they would end up in the bed again. And she would miss her flight.

She saw the gels to remove the TempTat he had painted on her swing, on the island, that he had been so proud of, but she found that she couldn't bring herself to use them.

When she came out of the bathroom, she found the room empty, the bed devoid of him. She took a deep calming breath before proceeding with her routine, applying the creams, gels and lotions to the parts of her body they were meant for.

She wore the most comfortable items she could find in her bright red suitcase, feeling her face heat up slightly as she sifted through the lacy and filmy lingerie and swimsuits she had once considered so risqué - because she had worn less, much less, since Marq had entered her life.

The coil of heat that came to life between her legs was not unexpected as she allowed herself to remember, to relive being the subject of Marquin Haydn's undivided sexual attention.

She reached down between her legs, touching herself, almost slipping a finger inside, eyes closing ... before she came back to her senses.

She castigated herself for her moment of weakness. He was still too close by to let herself be tempted by her memories of him, of his touch. Especially when he had so recently been so wonderfully, gloriously, inside her ...

She quickly found a serviceable bandeau bikini she could substitute for proper underwear and chose a pair of linen pants and a flowery low-cut sun top to wear over it, feeling a sense of deja vu as she finally looked at herself in the mirror.

She saw the bed behind her, and not knowing how, she found herself with his pillow in her hands, sniffing deeply, taking in his scent, again remembering him, his lips taking hers, his arms around her, his presence inside her. And she sat on the bed, clutching the pillow, and cried.

Sensible, disciplined Honor Banet reasserted herself after a while.

It was 8:21.

She experienced deja vu again as she went out of the room, her bag on her shoulder, pulling her red suitcase behind her, into the living room. The feeling intensified when she found him sitting in the exact same armchair he'd sat in when he made his offer to her a lifetime ago; ten thousand dollars for one night.

Again, he was in a T-shirt, and his gray eyes were behind his glasses.

He didn't smile this time as he returned her gaze.

"I have to go," she finally said. Again.

He nodded. "Mongkhut is waiting for you downstairs."

There wasn't much else to say, Honor realized, steeling herself against the sudden welling of tears, against breaking down again. He watched her wordlessly as she made her way to the door.

Her hand was on the door handle when she turned around. "Are you not going to even just ... say ... goodbye?" She had wanted to say 'kiss me' in place of 'say'. She wanted to feel his lips on hers one more time, so badly, it was all she could do to stay where she was and not run to him.

His eyes snapped up. "If I get up from this chair, you're not leaving," he growled. "So if you're going, you should go. Now."

Honor looked at him, lips parting, the heat in her abdomen spreading, knowing that it was true. Her desire for a last kiss would inevitably lead to much more. Delaying her needed return to her life. To reality.

"Thank you," she said at last to him, the feeling of deja vu returning.

He responded with no expression at all, saying nothing.

Sensible, disciplined Honor Banet opened the door.

"Stay," he said behind her, voice rough, breaking. "Stay with me. Please."

She gave in to her tears as she shook her head, not looking back. Then she stepped out and closed the door behind her.

Feeling deja vu again, she ran down the corridor, to the elevator bank, afraid that he would come out of 1615 and end her attempt at escaping him. She had no illusions that she would do anything but melt back into his arms if he called her back.

He would be inside her again in moments, kissing her, marauding her body, and she would be lost with no time limit this time, with no escape of being his odalisque.

But the elevator dinged open and she stepped in without the door of 1615 opening.

She wiped her eyes clear when the doors opened on the ground floor, stepping out into the lobby, ignoring the concerned looks of the middle-aged Indian couple sharing the lift with her.

Mongkhut was waiting for her, just like Marq said, and he had smilingly insisted on taking her red suitcase from her and loading it into the car.

The gourmet breakfast tray waiting for her in the back, which Mongkhut had readily informed her had come from 'Mr. Marq', was a thoughtful surprise that brought a fresh set of tears to her eyes, which had significantly confused the driver.

Despite her initial reaction, the food had provided a respite from her tears, a mish-mash of an English, French and Italian breakfast, each element with a Thai twist, from chillies in the sausages, extra basil in the omelete, mangosteen and sweetsop jam to go with the croissant to plum mango syrup for the satay-infused pancakes and fresh lychee and starfruit juice.

She gave a surprised and very pleased Mongkhut a grateful kiss on the cheek when he dropped her off at Aerothai's terminal at Suvarnabhumi.

Mongkhut was used to crazy tourist antics, but he found the astoundingly beautiful woman he had been assigned to drive around actually less crazy than most. Except for her sporadic penchant for extremely revealing clothing, which he was sure had a lot to do with Mr. Marq - his cousin Jao's friend.

He had no idea why she was crying though. Whatever the case, she had left a great deal of the food untouched, and better yet, everything left was neat and clean. It was a large amount of food for one woman, after all. He smiled; he would make sure none of it went to waste.

His smile faltered as he watched her walk into the terminal. Even if he hadn't seen her face, her gait said it all; this was a woman in a world of pain in her heart, and if not for what he knew about Mr. Marq, he would heartily despise him for whatever he must have done to hurt her.

The breakfast tray and her too-fleeting smile, her swift hope-filled look-around when he had told her that it had been sent by Mr. Marq also argued against it.

Not to mention that in the last two weeks he had witnessed the way she glowed as she looked at the man, her eyes full of open desire and longing, or the way he looked at her.

He found it impossible to believe that Mr. Marq sent her away, or that she wanted to leave. And yet, she was leaving.

He shook his head again; crazy tourists.

________________________

Marq had upgraded her ticket, and the Aerothai First Class cabin crew made every effort to spoil her appropriately; she was one of only seven passengers in the forward section, after all.

It should have been an unforgettable experience in luxury travel, from the food to the offered entertainment, to the discreet and yet ubiquitous attentiveness of the crew.

But she had only requested extra pillows and spent much of the flight stretched out on the lie-flat seat.

Except she didn't sleep.

"That's her." The junior attendant for First Class whispered to her colleague. The other woman, one of the many more tasked with taking care of Economy passengers on the flight, looked, curious.

The first woman gestured subtly with her chin at the petite but generously figured and raven haired woman leaving the plane with a polite smile at the line of crew members greeting the departing passengers. "She tried to hide it, but she cried for most of the flight."

________________________

Honor walked out of the arrivals gate, rolling her bright red suitcase beside her. Traveling First Class and having no checked-in luggage meant she was one of the first passengers out.

She was exhausted and rumpled from two sleepless flights. And the relentless, merciless weight in her chest that had accompanied her from Bangkok.

She heard an excited, familiar yell and looked up as a figure ran at her. And for the first time since leaving Thailand, she smiled, truly smiled, feeling the rush of love surrounding her as Sarah Fernandez wrapped her in her arms.

Honor hugged her friend back, tightly, eyes filling with tears.

"You won't believe how much I missed you!" Sarah said, pulling back. "I actually was expecting you to cancel again ..."

Then she saw Honor's face and her voice faltered, her words trailing off into silence. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Before Honor could say anything though, she grabbed her hand and started walking. "Come. We'll talk in the car. I got us coffee and tea."

Sarah snatched away Honor's little bright red suitcase as Honor followed her to the parking lot, after a swift stop at the Java Land stall to pick up Sarah's pre-arranged order: coffee for her and tea for Honor.

She started the car, wordlessly driving out of the parking lot. She got on the freeway before she eyed Honor, her curiosity and concern allowed full rein. "Well? What happened over there? Why do you look like ...?"

"Shit?" Honor completed.

Sarah snorted. "Like you have a hangover."

Honor looked at her. "I haven't had a drink since I left."

Sarah smiled. "Well, I guess you didn't party that much."

Honor didn't say anything, turning to look out the window.

Sarah was worried now. "What happened over there?" she demanded. "Did David ever show up?"

"David was in Bangkok," Honor said, after a moment.

Sarah looked sharply at her, before returning her eyes to the road. "But you said ..."

"I lied," Honor confessed.

Sarah frowned at her. "What ...? Why would you ...?"

"He was in Bangkok when I got there. When I went to his hotel." Honor laughed, bitterly, "I was going to surprise him."

"I know that," Sarah said, frowning.

Honor paused, surprised at how little pain she felt as she said it. "I saw him with someone."

Sarah swore, her head whipping to the side to look at her, and then swiftly turning back to the road. "What the fuck do you mean, 'with someone'?"

"With Jillian Blake."

"Who?"

"She lives in my building."

Sarah turned her head again to stare at her, then she clicked on the indicator, and began switching lanes, slowing down. Honor was confused until Sarah turned into a gas station, comprehension dawning as Sarah parked the car in an empty retail parking spot.

"Okay," Sarah said, turning in her seat to look at Honor. "Let's try again. You saw David, in Bangkok, with another woman, Jillian Lake, who lives here, in your building."

"It's Blake," Honor corrected. "Mrs. Jillian Blake."

Sarah stared at her, mouth open.

Honor let out another short and bitter laugh. "I think he flew her over there."

Sarah shook her head, as if to clear it. "So ..." she said, slowly, as many things fell into place, "your fiancee flew another woman, who is married, who is also your neighbor, to Thailand."

Honor simply nodded. "Yes. She was checked in as his wife."

Sarah's hand went to her mouth, finally seeing Honor's bare left hand. "Oh my @#&%, Hon! I'm so sorry!"

It was the horror, empathy, and love in her friend's eyes that brought tears to hers.

That would have been all, except Sarah reached across and pulled her into a hug, which was what sent her over the edge, and Honor found herself crying again.

She was dabbing her eyes with tissues from the box on Sarah's dashboard several minutes later, smiling through her tears at Sarah's extended expletive-filled tirade against bastards like David Brenner, and men in general.

"What did they say when you caught them?" Sarah demanded, after Honor recounted the scene of David Brenner and Jillian Blake together on 'The Veranda's' dancefloor. "What did that fucking bastard say?"

"Nothing," Honor said. "They didn't see me."

Sarah's mouth fell open again. "How?"

"They were too busy kissing and looking into each other's eyes to notice me."

Sarah frowned. "You didn't confront them?"

"It was all I could do to stay conscious," Honor said. "I ran out before they saw me. I literally got into the first cab I saw. I just wanted to get back to the airport and come back home. I couldn't think of anything else."

Sarah reached out to hold her hand, tears in her eyes, imagining her friend's pain. "Oh my @#&%, Honor."

Honor took a deep breath. "That's when I met him."

Sarah was thoroughly confused now. "Him?"

"The taxi was already taken. By him." Honor looked at Sarah. "Suite 1615, remember?"

Sarah nodded, recalling her panicked call to the Grand Imperial Hotel in Bangkok. Her screaming at the hapless reception staff member and his increasingly terrified manager. "What happened? Who is 'him'?"

"'Him's' name is Marq," Honor said with an involuntary smile. "He told the taxi guy to take me to the airport."

Sarah frowned. "And...?"

"I was so exhausted and emotionally messed up ... I kind of fell apart in the terminal. I basically passed out." Honor looked up again. "He ... he rescued me."

Sarah's frown became even deeper.

"I woke up in his hotel suite." Honor smiled reassuringly at her as she further explained. "I didn't know how I got there. That's when I sent the text to you."

Sarah stared at her. "That ... that was so fucking dangerous, Honor."

"I know." Honor looked away, abashed, acknowledging her point.

"Then what happened?" Sarah asked, still holding Honor's hand. "You were supposed to come back the next day, then it was two days later, then ten fucking days and ... I'm picking you up now."

Honor bit her lip, not answering for a long moment. Then she took a deep breath and looked up. "I stayed with him."

Sarah frowned again. "Stayed with him?"

"I stayed with Marq," Honor said, meeting her eyes.

"What do you mean 'stayed'?" Sarah asked, her voice turning sharp. "Did he make you ...?"

Honor laughed, humorlessly. "He didn't 'make' me do anything. I didn't tell you what was happening because I didn't want you to stop me. To say I was being crazy. It was all me ... and I loved every moment." A sob escaped her then. "He made me so happy." Honor looked at her friend, tears cascading down her face. "I think I'm in love, Sarah."