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“I’ll have to tell Hank and Sloane,” I added quickly. “I have to check in with Hank soon anyway. I haven’t heard from him all week.”

Really?Vuk’s expression was neutral.How odd.

“Yeah.” I finished my tea and pushed the mug aside. “Thank you for the food and for listening to me, but I should go. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

Why didn’t you go to Jordan first?

I froze. Logically speaking, Ishould’vegone to my fiancé first. But how could I tell Vuk that he was the one I’d wanted to see, not Jordan?

“I will tell him later,” I lied. “But he has, um, a huge board meeting at work today, and I didn’t want to distract him.”

Vuk’s eyes narrowed. It was a flimsy excuse, but fortunately, he didn’t press the issue.

I was already halfway out of my seat when I collapsed again at his next question.

Are you angry?

“What?”

About Wentworth.

My jaw tightened. “OfcourseI’m angry. He assaulted me, and I’m not the first model he’s harassed. I wish—” I stopped myself and took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter. Anger won’t get me anywhere. I have to deal with things the…the practical way. Although I am happy that I probably broke his nose.”

I hoped it never reset properly and the asshole had to walk around with a crooked nose for the rest of his life. He was so vain, it would kill him.

Vuk stood abruptly.Come with me. I have something that might help.

The fact I didn’t question him was a testament to how much I’d come to trust him.

My chest prickled with curiosity as I followed him out of the library and downstairs to…

I blinked, unsure what I was looking at.

The basement-level room was twice the size of my apartment, but it was empty save for a table in the middle and crates full of junk. Broken bottles and bottle caps littered the far side of the room, and there was a faint, acrid smell. Almost like burnt toast, but a little smokier.

Vuk walked over to a black chest and popped it open. He motioned for me to join him.

I did. I peered inside, half-expecting to see a dead body or something. Instead, I found a helmet, vest, goggles, and gloves.

My brows pulled together. “What…” I paused and looked around again. It suddenly clicked. “Wait. You have your own rage room?”

He lifted his shoulders.It comes in handy sometimes.

I’d heard of venues where people paid to vent their stress and anger by smashing breakable objects. I’d never been to one, but I’d always been intrigued by the concept. It was definitely better than picking a fight in a bar or lashing out at the people around me.

I eyed the crates of dishware and old electronics surrounding us. My parents had raised me to value our belongings. The thought of indiscriminately breaking those items made me squirm—until my eyes fell on an old camera.

It wasn’t the same brand or model Wentworth had used. It wasn’t even the same color. But the mere sight brought me back to the studio, to the ugliness of his hands on me and the entitlement he’d displayed.

That old fury bubbled to the surface again, grinding and swelling against my insides until I thought I would burst.

I grabbed the safety gear and put it on. I made sure to tie my loose waves back before I put on the helmet so they didn’t get matted. Once I was finished, Vuk handed me a baseball bat and retreated outside without a word.

The door shut.

I stared at the once-empty table. Vuk had piled it with items while I was suiting up. There were wine glasses, dishes, a TV, and that stupid camera. The TV’s dark screen faced me, reflecting my trembling form.

What had Wentworth seen when he looked at me? Someone he could take advantage of because the system was created in his favor. Someone like the other girls, who kept their mouths shut and played nice because they were afraid of rocking the boat.