Her voice cracks as my stomach drops.You never needed to sell your body for money.
I can’t even really hold it against her. Looking back, Amara never pressured me to get into the dark side of the agency. But after one too many offers from clients—and one too many days where I felt worthless already—I was the one who got myself into it.
The sound of Amara clearing her throat snaps me back to the present. “But even when you started sleeping with clients, I still thought I could help you,” she says, the desperation in her voice obvious. “I thought,I can give her the weak, submissive men, and they’ll help her to feel more empowered.I thought, even with all the toxic bullshit we go through as women, that there might be some part of this job that could show you how strong and beautiful and incredible you are.” A tear runs down her cheek. “But I think I was wrong. I did more harm than good. And I am so, so sorry, cara. Please forgive me.”
I slump into her arms again. Understanding some of Amara’s reasons for the past three years does bring me some level of relief, but I would never blame her for who I became or what I went through. I take full accountability for everything that’s happened in my life that led me to this moment.
I squeeze her in a hug. “It’s not your fault,” I whisper. “I have nothing to forgive you for.”
And so, we sit there, two women wrapped around each other, existing in a world that we’ve had to learn hard lessons to survive in. Finding comfort in each other, instead of the men we can’t rely on.
Eventually, we pull back and wipe at our tears. “Let’s get out of here,” Amara says. “Fuck these men. I say we go home, break open a ten-thousand-dollar bottle of champagne, and talk shit about them while we do facials and pedicures. What do you think?”
“That sounds like the perfect Friday night,” I say with a watery laugh. “I’m in.”
I move in front of the bathroom mirror to quickly fix my appearance. Thanks to my expensive products and perfected routine, most of my makeup is still in place. Eye drops and a little bit of concealer dulls the proof of my tears, but there’s not much I can do about the swelling. And even though a new coat of lipstick fixes my mouth, the fact that it was smeared because of Nico’s kisses brings a rush of tears all over again. I have to blink them back before they can fall.
Amara’s gentle touch turns me to face her. Lifting my chin so I’m forced to meet her eyes, she says firmly, “Just to be clear,youare the most beautiful, sought-after woman in New York City. Bar none. Any man would kill to have you spit on them. Forget Nicholas Price. I don’t know what he said to you, but I want you to know he’s wrong.Youare the most worthwhile jewel in this entire city.”
I try for a smile, but it doesn’t work.
THIRTY-SEVEN
NICO
I want to run after Scarlett the second she disappears from my sight.
Not that I would know what to say if I caught up to her. I’m still confused and hurt and terrified of the idea that I may have been played.
But my heart doesn’t understand any of that. All it knows is that I hate the sight of Scarlett walking away from me.
I take one step after her, stop, then take another.
Fuck it.
Uncaring about the people I bump into, I bolt after her. She’s in heels and in need of a ride; she shouldn’t be hard to catch up to. I just need to talk to her, beg her to make sense of the mess of thoughts in my head. I’m sure we can figure it out. We just need?—
I explode onto the front steps, breathing too heavily. My eyes dart around, looking desperately for Scarlett’s blonde hair or gold dress. She’s the most beautiful woman in the world; she should be stopping traffic everywhere.
She’s nowhere to be found.
I let out a muttered curse and look back at the gala’s entryway.Did I pass her?
Twenty minutes later, I’ve reached the conclusion that she’s disappeared.
Also, that I am completelyfucked.
Because now that she’s out of my sight, I have no way of finding her. Beyond sending her three texts—that go unanswered—I have no idea where she lives or where she might go.
With another bitten-off curse, I spin toward the bar and order a double whiskey. I have no idea what to do from here.
When Lucas finds me an hour later, I’m sufficiently drunk.
“Whoa,” I hear his voice from behind me. “What the fuck did I miss?”
I lift my glass toward him with a crooked smile. “Nothing. Your timing is perfect. I was just about to take this shot.” I wave at the bartender. “Can I get one more for my brother, pretty please?”
“Uh, actually…” Lucas takes the glass from my hand, and I send him a glare. He waves the bartender off and says, “Just a water, when you get a chance.”
