Slipping away from Dante had taken everything I had.
“Perfect,” Vincent says when they present me to him. “The penthouse. He’s expecting you.” He walks me to the elevator. “Good luck,” he says as the doors close.
The elevator ride feels endless. My heart pounds against my ribs as I stare at my reflection in the polished steel doors. This is insane. This is desperate. This is foolishness, but I have no choice. There could be a serial killer expecting me in the penthouse. Or a weird old man, with too many fetishes to count on one hand.
Dante was like that too. I shake my head, forcing the memories back to the dark box in my mind where I put them away after every incident.
The penthouse door is unlocked when I arrive. I step inside and expect to see the man who’s paid for my services, but the place is empty.
The bedroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the city lights. There’s wine waiting on the nightstand, and soft jazz is playing from hidden speakers. The bed dominates the space. I approach it cautiously.
It’s covered in what looks like clouds made of Egyptian cotton. I can’t remember the last time I slept on anything that wasn’t a couch or a bus seat. Before I know it, I’m sinking into the mattress that feels like heaven has decided to cradle me personally.
My eyes drift shut, just for a second. I just want to feel what it’s like to be comfortable again, and before I can stop myself, I’m drifting.
Run, Kasi, run.
His voice echoes as I stumble through dark alleys, his men’s footsteps closing in.
“Found you, princess. Time to come home.”
I wake with a start, heart pounding, from the same damn nightmare I’ve been having since I ran away.
A man is standing over me.
How long was I asleep for? I look outside—still pitch-dark save for the light pollution.
“How long have you been here?” I ask, as I quickly sit up.
“Not long.” His voice is deep. “I got caught in traffic. I’ve been in Italy for so long that I forgot how intense this city can get.”
I can barely make out his features. Just shadows and suggestions, but I see him remove his jacket and hang it on a chair.
“Italy sounds nice.”
“It does. You were having a nightmare.”
“You could have woken me up instead of just…staring.”
“You looked peaceful at first. Until the end.” He sits on the edge of the bed, leaving space between us. “I didn’t want to startle you.”
Neither of us speaks for a long moment.
“This is awkward,” I admit.
“It doesn’t have to be.” He pours wine from the bottle on the nightstand and offers me a glass. “I expected you’d want to get straight to…business. But you fell asleep.”
I take the wine, our fingers brushing. “Well, I’m awake now. We could get into it.”
He pours himself a glass and takes a sip before responding. “No need to rush now. Sex shouldn’t be a straight road.”
“What do you mean?”
“It should build. Like good wine.” He settles back against the headboard, and I find myself relaxing. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Not much to tell.” I curl my legs under me. “Twenty-two. Recently single. Very recently homeless.”
“What happened?”
