The Fallen Heiress's Debt to the Billionaire

Dewitt tried to work his fingernail under the tangled fabric. The silk was wet and unyielding.

Felicity flinched when his knuckle brushed her skin.

"Sorry," he said automatically.

He let go of her. "We need to cut it."

He turned and walked out of the bathroom.

Felicity stood there, shivering. Was he leaving? Was he getting security?

He came back ten seconds later. He was holding a silver letter opener. It was long and sharp, with a handle made of mother-of-pearl.

Felicity saw the blade.

Her breath hitched. She backed up until her hips hit the sink.

"No," she gasped.

Dewitt stopped. He saw her eyes tracking the blade.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "Turn around."

Felicity shook her head.

"Turn around, Felicity. Unless you want to wear that rag forever."

She hesitated. Then, slowly, she turned her back to him. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for pain.

She felt the cold metal slide between the fabric and her skin. Dewitt's hand was steady. He lifted the blade away from her body.

Snip.

The tension released instantly. The dress fell open.

Dewitt pulled the fabric away. He picked up his suit jacket from where she had dropped it and draped it over her shoulders again.

"Henderson left some clothes on the bed," he said. "Put them on."

He turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Felicity let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

She quickly stripped off the ruined dress and kicked it into the corner. She went into the bedroom. On the bed was a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft cashmere sweater.

She put them on. The fabric was like a cloud against her battered skin.

She looked around. The room was empty. Dewitt was gone.

The letter opener was sitting on the nightstand.

Felicity walked over and picked it up. It was heavy. Sharp.

She went to the door. She locked it. Then she dragged a heavy wooden chair from the desk and wedged it under the door handle.

She turned off the lights.

She didn't get in the bed. The bed smelled like Barnett's cologne.

She curled up on the chaise lounge by the window. She tucked the letter opener into the waistband of her sweatpants, pressing it against the small of her back. Her hand stayed resting near the handle.

Outside, the wind howled around the penthouse.

Felicity closed her eyes.