Chapter 36 Scarlett
THIRTY-SIX
SCARLETT
I can’t get out of the ballroom fast enough.
Tears blur my vision, and for the first time since my mother put me in heels at the age of thirteen, I stumble. I have to catch myself on a nearby table to steady my trembling legs.
Swiping furiously at my cheeks, it takes me a second to realize it’s still early in the night, and that the front of the building is still swarming with people and paparazzi. I won’t be able to get out of here without attracting attention.
I bolt down a blocked-off hallway instead. When I find a bathroom at the end of it, I let out a stuttered exhale of relief, then push through the door and collapse on the chaise lounge inside.
Finally alone, I give in to the tears.
Sobs wrack my chest, the hurt exploding like fireworks. Nico’s words ring in my ears on repeat.
God, I am such an idiot. A stupid, delusional idiot. I thought I would find comfort and reassurance when I sought him out. Instead, I learned the truth about how he sees me.
I shake my head, the tears running freely. I can’t believe I let myself hope, let myself feel. Nico was never going to see me as anything more than an escort.
Because I’m nothing more than an escort.
I let out a wet, humorless laugh. The scolding I’d be receiving from my mother right now would be one for the ages.
This is what you get for thinking a man would like you for anything more than what you can provide for him. It’s your own fault for letting yourself get carried away by some ridiculous fairytale.
And yet…I tried not to get carried away. I fought so hard not to fall for the dream that Nico spun. The dream that I could be my own person, a woman valued beyond the size of my waist and the services I can provide on my knees. That I could be a human being.
I should’ve known it was all a fantasy. Clearly, even Nico didn’t believe it.
Leaning back, I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm myself.
I need to get out of here. I don’t want to run into Nico again, but even more, I just want to get home.
I want to curl up in a ball and forget these past few weeks even happened.
I want to go back to my life before Nico and his pretty dream.
My life before Nico.
I don’t know why that thought startles me. I may have been empty before him, but at least I had a grasp of reality. I knew who I was and what my purpose was. I knew what my days would look like.
Now, I don’t know anything.
I mean, where do I even go from here? I haven’t worked in over a week, haven’t fully committed in over three. I’ve been too busy falling for Nico’s lie, venturing outside of my apartment to discover interests that don’t matter. Wasting my time.
I should’ve just stayed with what I knew.
With timing only the universe is capable of, the door opens. And Amara walks into the restroom.
“Scarlett,” she says softly. “I thought that was you.”
I swipe at my cheeks, feeling them burn with embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”
“Networking,” she says simply. She hesitates for a moment, then takes a seat beside me and brushes a strand of hair out of my face. “I didn’t expect you to be here, cara. Who are you here with? And how did they upset you? You know if it’s a client—”
The sheer ridiculousness of the comment—of this moment—has me laughing bitterly. “You have no idea how complicated that question is, Amara.”
I feel her studying me. “It doesn’t look that complicated, Scarlett,” she says with tenderness in her eyes. “And it’s not like I haven’t already guessed.”
My brow furrows as I turn toward her. “What does that mean?”
The only thing I told her was that I needed to take a hiatus. She pressed, of course, but I told her I needed a break, both physically and mentally. That after three years of working consistently, never taking time off, I was burnt out.
In hindsight, maybe framing it as a leave of absence instead of just quitting was my subconscious telling me things with Nico were too good to be true.
Amara sighs and drops her hand. “Scarlett, I’ve been in this business for twenty years. I worked in it for ten. I am not blind to the temptation of certain clients.” She gives me a knowing look. “Not to mention, I know what they all look like.”
My gaze drops to my hands in my lap.
“Look, I get it, okay? You’re young, the lifestyle is intoxicating, the men are intoxicating—you’re not the first girl to fall for a client’s bullshit.
These men, they…” I see the moment Amara goes into her own memories.
“They spin these stories, make us fall for their lies, and then the second we don’t fit the type of woman they want, they leave us in the dust.”
My eyes slide closed, a tear running down my cheek. It sounds insane to describe Nico in this context. Of all the men I’ve met, all the assumptions I’ve made about people…he’s the absolute last one I ever would’ve thought would fit into this category.
Amara gives me a pitying look as she brushes a hand over my hair.
“I hate to say it, but every girl will have one of these. We all go through it. There’s always one man who manages to convince us that they’re not like our other clients, that they love and respect us. It’s practically a rite of passage.”
But that only makes the tears flow quicker. “I thought he was different,” I whisper.
“Oh, cara…” Amara wraps an arm around my shoulders, and when she pulls me against her, I both hear and feel the sigh that wracks her body.
For what feels like forever, she just holds me. And then in a broken whisper, she says, “I’m so sorry, Scarlett.”
I don’t know what she’s apologizing for, so I just curl into her embrace.
But her apology continues, her words full of regret and guilt. “I’m sorry you’re in pain. I’m sorry he hurt you. And I’m so sorry I put you in this position.”
I pull back slightly with a confused sniffle. “What?”
Amara’s eyes take on a sheen as she says, “I know this will sound ridiculous coming from a madam, but I’ve only ever wanted the best for you. That day we met, I really did want to help you. I only mentioned the agency because you were stressed about money. I never meant that you needed to—”
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, you are 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.
You are the most worthwhile jewel in this entire city. ”
I try for a smile, but it doesn’t work.