Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? Why couldn’t I just walk away?
Zarita stands up. She closes the distance between us and looks at me with that menacing smile. Her lips are painted deep red and her eyes are lined with black with an ugly smoky eyeshadow. Her hair is in a messy twist, and her clothes look secondhand. She pulls my chin up to meet her eyes.
“Tell me you understand.”
“I understand,” I say through my tears.
“Good. You’ll start tomorrow morning. For today, you will keep working as usual. Tell nobody. Say nothing. And stop your fucking crying.” Her smile disappears. “I fucked men for years. It isn’t so bad. You think these girls want your pity? Get yourself together, you spoiled, rotten little prissy bitch. I own you now.” She pushes me and I stumble against the door.
The sudden violence makes me stop crying. I stare at her, blinking through my tears, and wipe my face with my arm. I smell like bleach and cleaning solvents. Soon I’ll smell like strange men.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Say, ‘Yes, Zarita,’ little bitch.”
“Yes, Zarita.”
“Good. Get out.”
I turn, open the door, and walk away. My legs are shaking and my hands are trembling.
Tomorrow morning, my life will end.
I was a virgin before I came here. I’ve been with one man in my entire life.
Soon, Zarita will bring me as many men as I can physically handle, and I’ll never be the same.
Chapter 9
Maxim
It’s early when I pull into the parking lot of The Velvet Rope. I glide the BMW to a stop outside of the office and sip from a coffee cup. It’s strong and black and wakes me up as I scan the balcony for any sign of Siena.
There’s nothing. Why would there be? It’s eight in the morning.
There are several other cars in the parking lot. Most of them are practical sedans and SUVs, the sort of thing a middle-class guy would drive. I climb out of my car and stretch. My suit fits tight against my skin and I feel my gun heavy against my ribs. I glance over my shoulder toward the stairwell at the far end where I kissed Siena the night before last and can still taste her on my lips.
But I push that aside. I’m not here for her. I’m here for business, and I can’t let my obsession with Siena overwhelm my ability to do my job.
Guido Bastone’s in the front office with his madam, Zarita. She sits cross-legged in a chair and laughs at something he says as the door swings shut behind me. Guido’s leaning against the counter, smiling at her. I wonder briefly if there’s something happening between them—but I don’t give a damn either way.
Guido walks over and shakes my hand. “I’m glad you’re back, Maxim,” he says. “I feel as though our last visit didn’t go the way I’d hoped.”
“Don’t think anything of it,” I say, while inwardly seething. “There was another emergency happening. It had nothing to do with you.”
Guido nods and smiles as if he believes me, but I’m sure he has his doubts.
“Come then. Let’s walk around the property. I’ll take you to the back room first and you can meet the girls.”
I gesture for him to lead on.
I’m halfway listening as he talks. He explains how he got started in the city. It’s a classic rags-to-riches story, and it’s almost impressive if it didn’t involve him yoking a bunch of girls into debt slavery and forcing them to fuck for cash. He shows me the kitchen and living area in the back and I meet a little young thing named Mira, and a silent brooding type named Lan, and I’m shown the bunk bed area. It’s a messy explosion of stuff, but it’s not too bad.
All throughout, I picture Siena in this space. I keep thinking I’ll see her, but she’s not around. I imagine her sleeping in a bed, keeping her own tidy little corner of the room, cooking dinner in that kitchen, laughing with the girls in front of the TV. Living her life the best she can. Why do I keep doing this to myself? I should let her go. She’s nothing, and I’m not free. None of it matters.
“Your father seems to think we can help each other,” Guido says as he guides me around the back and up the stairs. “I’ll admit, I’m coming around to the idea. There’s a new house I’m building near the lake district, and I’m wondering if you would like to help run it.”
Nausea pierces my stomach. I’d rather rip out my own eyes with a rusty spoon. “I’ll mention it to my father,” I say, doing my best to maintain my neutrality.
He nods happily. We reach the top of the steps and he stops in front of the first room. “This should be empty,” he says, more to himself than to anyone else. He probably doesn’t want a repeat of the other day.