Yvonne barely registered what was happening before the quilt covering her was yanked away.

Cold air rushed over her body.

A woman’s voice, dripping with contempt, sliced through the silence. "So you’re the one seducing Mr. Blackwell? I’ll admit, you’ve got some looks. But sweetie, women like you? You’re disposable. One-time use, like a napkin you toss away after wiping your hands. I’ve seen plenty of your kind."

Bracing herself on her arms, ...