to interview her about the guests of the club.

- And ... someone spill it out?

“You know how strict you are with security and confidentiality,” Max shrugged carelessly, but in the gaze of his golden-brown eyes glowed coals, undoubtedly borrowed from hell.

“Well ...”, Victor suddenly relented, stretching his hand to the bottle in his friend’s arms, “What can be, cannot be avoided.” Reputation is changeable. Today it is. Tomorrow no. And for Raven, there can be no worse. - He made a couple of sips from the bottle and grimaced. - She would have something stronger ...

Max readily went to the side of the bar racks, filled with bottles, found the brandy, under the counter, took a clean glass, poured the drink to the bottom and brought it to the girl. Vika took a sip, which immediately burned all inside. Honestly, she did not care at all. Reputation? What are they all about? She's not even sure who she is. In addition, she just did something about which it is disgusting to remember, and from this she fell into some kind of uncontrollable ecstasy, and until now she trembles because of the closeness of these hideous narcissistic males next to her.

“Bring clothes and in twenty minutes, let Gena fit,” Victor said dryly on the phone. Vika sighed heavily, biting her lips and crushing over her naivety. Why, he would have killed somebody because of her ... But at least she didn’t have to serve anyone there, for all ... But what if she had yet to do it ?! Vika was in despair again. She covered her face like a child with her palms and cried silently from despair, still sitting on the edge of the table, and only a thin leather jacket covered her nakedness. Of course, she did not see how the men looked at each other again, how Max raised his eyebrows meaningfully and then shrugged.

- Well ... everything was cool, but I, perhaps, will take my leave.

- Wali.

- Good luck.

“You will come with me,” Victor casually threw in and approached when Max disappeared behind the door. His hand touched her neck, but Vika, with a frenzy, pushed her away.

“You are incorrigible,” he smiled, dutifully stepping aside.

- Go to hell! - sobbing, she threw back, pressing both hands to her face again.

- You have no idea how many men went to this address because of your fault ... Only, I'm afraid, this number will not work with me. So that I no longer hear such familiarity, - he said it rather harshly, as always, but in his voice some kind of soft notes that were still not familiar to her appeared. However, Vika was in no condition to delve into such subtleties.

- Yes, I do not care!

- I do not doubt ... But it is better not to do that, which later will have to regret. By the way, I want to warn you about something ... If you don’t want to make yourself worse, keep your mouth shut before reporters ...

- This is a threat? She looked up at him for a moment and immediately flashed when she saw his face and eyes. They were lust and defiance.

- Take it as you want.

Several people entered the room. The first who was noticed by Vika was Crocodile - imperturbable, gloomy, indestructible. Of course, what will he do? All this was an ordinary divorce, a joke, one of the entertainments, in order to humiliate and subjugate her, and she took the lead as a fool, trying to save a human life. She remembered how he was wringing her hands and trying to feel hatred for him. True, now she has no forces left to hate.

By pathetic irony, of course, it was Gena who brought the bag with her clothes and hoisted him on the table next to her: thongs, short denim shorts, some kind of open top with sparkles on her naked body. He took her to the ladies' room so that she could put herself in a little order. The tear-stained face and hopelessly spoiled make-up even gave the face a certain charm - a sort of tear off after a stormy night and a showdown in a fashionable club. Is she really like that?

"Crawler is all over the face," she thought darkly, wrapping herself in a leather jacket worn over the top, when Gena rudely pulled her arm along the corridors, down the stairs, through the raging crowd down to the central exit. She did not listen to the shouts, she did not look at people's faces. The music was still hitting the ears, and the suspense lay ahead. There were people on the street again, I had to push through a pressing crowd, but here Gena suddenly turned from a taskmaster into a defender and pushed everyone with a powerful shoulder so that she could pass. She was agitated by persistent shouts of her own name flying from all sides, and with some vague surprise and curiosity she realized that she turned out to know French.

- Madame Voronova, for what reasons did you terminate your last contract with Victoria's Secret?

- Vika, who are you dating now? They saw your former groom, the founder of The Bernard Group, Max Bernard. You are communcating?

- Raven, do you still have a conflict with your parents because of your lifestyle?

- Victoria, have you really been treated in a drug treatment clinic and escaped from it?

- Victoria, who accompanies you today?

“And the truth is - who?” - she lost herself, choking on the uncertainty and hopelessness of her own position that did not fit into her head. Victor was right - she cannot tell journalists anything if she does not want to make herself worse. And what could she answer them? What deprived her of memory and kidnapped? What made her a sexual slave or that she became her on a whim? It would pretty much amuse the public, apparently, because it is obviously such expectant details that are always expected from it. “Wandering Lights” at least guarantee the protection of the interests of their clients with regard to confidentiality, privacy and reputation ... This was stated in that idiotic contract ... She did not believe in all this, no, but she had no choice except how to follow someone else's script, because she had no trump cards, she had no information, she still had no memories. At some point, the stream of people rushed from her and exploded behind her with hundreds of even more excited voices.

- Victor Langin! Here is Victor Langin! Victor, what are you doing here?

Vika looked around, but so many people crowded behind her that nothing could be disassembled, everyone shouted, and besides the music coming from the club strengthened the general cacophony of sounds. The crocodile stubbornly pulled it forward until a limousine appeared before them. The bodyguard opened the door in front of her and almost pushed it inside, blocking the exit to freedom with his powerful body. Vika immediately looked out the window, trying to make out what was happening on the street. Surrounded by journalists with microphones, Victor approached the car. He stopped a couple of steps away from the door to give an interview, and Vika watched tensely for his imposing unconstrained manners, arrogant and charming smiles, unabashed confidence and the ability to beat out her charisma. When he finally found himself on the seat next to her, all the questions, all the boldness, all the insults suddenly flew out of her head. She turned away from him, leaning weakly on the seat and staring out the window.

- No mood to chat? - sounded an ironic question, like a challenge.