1
KASI
The bus doorhisses shut behind me, and I’m left standing on the sidewalk with exactly twenty-three dollars, my passport in my bag, and nowhere else to run.
The hotel across the street is the kind of place Dante used to take me for “special occasions”—when he wanted to remind me how generous he was, how lucky I was to have him. I tug at the hem of my wrinkled dress, the same one I’ve been wearing for three days, and cross the street anyway.
“Hey, beautiful!”
A guy in an expensive suit stumbles out of a nearby bar, his eyes tracking my movement like a predator. “Where you going? Let me buy you a drink!”
I keep walking. After two years with Dante, I know how to ignore the wolves.
“Come on, don’t be like that!” he calls, but I’m already pushing through the hotel’s revolving door.
The lobby is familiar in its excess—marble, crystal, and expensive furniture that costs more than most people make in a year.
The bar is tucked into a corner, dimly lit with leather booths and the quiet murmur of money changing hands. I slide onto a stool and place my last twenty on the polished wood.
“Whiskey,” I tell the bartender. “The strongest you have.”
He raises an eyebrow but pours without comment. I down it in one burning gulp, the fire spreading through my chest and numbing the edges of my panic.
This is it. Rock bottom.
Three months ago, I found a recording, and everything shattered.
Everything I thought was love turned out to be a transaction. A deal struck behind my back, selling me like property.
That’s when I ran.
I drain the glass and signal for another.
The bartender hesitates. “You sure about that, miss?”
“I’m sure.”
What happens after this drink doesn’t matter anyway. An alley, the streets, whatever comes next—it’s all better than the cage I escaped from.
“Allow me.”
A smooth voice interrupts my spiral. I look up to find a distinguished older man sliding onto the stool beside me. Expensive suit, silver at his temples.
He nods to the bartender. “Two more of whatever the lady’s having. Top-shelf.”
The bartender pours without question. The man slides one glass toward me, raises the other.
“To new beginnings,” he says.
I stare at him. “I don’t know you.”
“No, but I recognize someone who’s reached the end of their rope.” His smile is kind and understanding. “I’m Vincent. I manage an escort company.”
“Kasi.” The name slips out before I can stop it. First time I’ve said it aloud in months.
“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He sips his whiskey, studying me with eyes that have seen everything. “What’s a girl like you doing drinking alone in a place like this?”
“A girl like me?”
