On the dance floor, Marissa and Egan are approximating dancing, though it's really more of a herky-jerky collision of two bony bodies. He leads her giggling to his homespun opium den, and they start to make out despite her admission that she's slumming it. She tells him to take her home before she comes to her senses. As they hastily head out, Rochelle thanks him again for hooking her up. As soon as he's out of earshot, she makes a phone call and looks around suspiciously. Egan strolls outside, only to be slammed into the wall by the police. Rochelle tells him he sold to the wrong girl and reads him his Miranda rights as paps snap the whole ordeal.
Sonja returns home in a funk. She turns on the lights and sees a vase filled with roses. The card reads, "Welcome home, Sonja. I'm here for you. -- R" She gives a requisite pensive soap opera look before angrily hurling the roses at a picture of herself and melting into tears.
Back at the model house, Raina finds Chris looking out the bay window. He says he's trying to get some sleep before he flies out in the morning. She discourages him from going home, but he thinks he's not cut out for it. He thinks she is. He notes the "big Italian job" she just booked. She corrects him that the job actually went to Sonja, who needed it more. He comments that she's not like all the others. She quips, "Look who's talking." His phone rings: Simon for the fourth time. She invites him to her room to sleep... on her floor. They walk upstairs holding hands. Oh, brother. Lambs before the slaughter. Now that's something Chris would know about.
Next week: A scandal delivered by text message could ruin Sonja's whole life. My my, that sounds oddly familiar...