He tilts his head, studying me. “How are you liking it?”
“It’s great. This place is…” I laugh, motioning helplessly around us. “It’s indescribable.”
“Hm.” He chews his lip. “Listen, I’ve had a terrible week, so I’ll cut right to the chase. How much?”
I blink. “How much of…what?”
“For the night.” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a wallet, opening it. “Two thousand?”
He looks at me expectantly, eyebrows raised. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out at first.
“Two thousand…dollars?” I manage to ask after an awkward beat of silence. “For what? What are you?—”
“Matthew!” Vicky materializes out of nowhere, taking him firmly by the arm. “You wouldn’t be bothering our other patrons, would you?”
The man—Matthew—frowns at her. “Other, pat?—?”
“Because Francesca would not be happy to hear that,” she tells him, an uncharacteristic chill creeping into her voice. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go join Melinda over at her table? She looks lonely tonight. I’m sure she would appreciate the company.”
Surprisingly, he does as he’s told, giving me one last glance before heading to the table she indicated.
“Sorry about that,” Vicky says, giving me an apologetic smile.
“Did he… Did he think I was…?”
“An escort,” Vicky finishes gently. “And yes, I think so.” She gestures around. “This is where most of us meet our clients.”
Us?
“Oh. So you’re… Oh.” I look away and take a long drink of my martini, just for something to do.
Vicky watches me thoughtfully. “Does that bother you?”
Does it? I push through my initial shock and check in with myself, weighing my thoughts and feelings.
“Honestly? No, it doesn’t. Not at all,” I admit. “Do you enjoy it?”
Vicky’s answering smile is warm. “Most of the time, yes. There are always some clients that make it harder than others.” She looks at Matthew as she says it, scrunching her nose like she’s smelled something unpleasant. “But I enjoy it. And I love bringing people’s fantasies to life, getting to try on different versions of myself. I don’t believe we have to be just one thing in this lifetime. We are infinite, full of possibilities. And I like exploring that.” She glances at me, then quickly adds, “And don’t worry, Mr. Sterling was never one of the bad ones.”
Mr. Sterling. Was a client of hers.
Sebastian.
“Oh,” I say, my voice small.
“I should go rescue Melinda,” Vicky tells me, giving my hand a squeeze. “But I’ll keep an eye on you to make sure none of the other men here bother you, okay?”
“Thanks,” I tell her, with a grateful smile.
My next martini arrives with a side of truffle fries, and I eat them slowly, unpacking what she just said.
I think that’s why I don’t notice right away when someone new approaches me. I’m distracted, untangling complicated emotions, when a new voice interrupts me.
“Is this seat taken?”
A woman, this time. I relax, happy to have a distraction.
“It’s all yours,” I say. I glance over just in time to see a well-manicured hand touch the bar top, as she slides into the seat to my right. “Are you?—?”
