"A walk? With the four of us?" Harish laughed, a jagged, cruel sound that cut through the sound of the crashing waves. He grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back to expose the pale column of her throat to the moonlight. "Don't play the saint. We saw how you looked at us at the bar. You wanted a stage. Well, here it is. The whole beach is watching, even if they can't see your face."

"Please, Harish, you’re hurting me," she gasped, her hands fluttering up to grasp at his wrist.