Chapter 45 – Sydney
SYDNEY
The massage therapists at Second Circle are good. Too good.
The moment we get back to the suite, Jade collapses face-first on the bed and is asleep within seconds. Even I feel relaxed—my muscles loose and languid, my thoughts softened—something I didn’t think was possible after what I went through last night.
While the dulcet sounds of Jade’s light snoring fill the room, I retrieve my phone from the drawer I threw it in earlier. Alec has finally texted me back.
The Boss: You’re right. I don’t want to lie to you anymore. You deserve honesty.
The Boss: Let me take you out tomorrow.
The Boss: Let me show you my world.
I re-read the messages twice, three times, before deciding to reply.
Fine.
His response is almost instantaneous, like he’s been sitting there with his phone in his hand for the last hour and a half, waiting for me to text.
The Boss: Be ready at 7pm, Red.
I inhale slowly. His world. Maybe it should frighten me, knowing what little I do about what his world entails, but I feel something else, instead. Relief. I want to know more. To finally be let in.
My post-massage bliss is already starting to wear off, my mind quickly spiraling again. I can’t sit in this room with my thoughts all on my own while Jade naps. Not tonight. I change out of the plush hotel robe and into the first dress I find shoved into my suitcase.
“I’m going down to the bar,” I tell Jade. “I need a drink.”
“Give me five minutes,” she mumbles sleepily, rolling over onto her side and curling around Bea. She’s asleep again before I even reach the door, and I’m half tempted to snap a photo of the two of them napping together. They’re too cute together. My two favorite girls.
I close the door as quietly as I can.
The third floor houses the most opulent cocktail bar I’ve ever seen.
It’s in line with the rest of this hotel, but it still takes my breath away when the elevator doors slide open, and I experience it for the first time.
The cherry red of the walls and floors is paired with deep brown accents and leather furniture polished to a soft sheen.
The whole place makes me feel like I need a three-piece suit and a cigar to fit in.
It’s busy, but not overcrowded. I take a seat at the bar, avoiding direct adjacency to anyone.
“Gin martini,” I tell the bartender when she approaches. She’s beautiful, just like every other woman I’ve seen working here so far. “Filthy, please.”
It’s mostly women filling up the room, I notice, as I look around. Women drinking together, women chatting around dark wooden tables, women working behind the bar. But no sooner has the bartender returned with my drink than I hear a man’s voice behind me.
“Haven’t seen you around here before,” he says casually. “You new?”
I turn, and there’s a portly man in an overly starched suit standing at my shoulder. He leans an elbow on the bar, watching me.
“I just got here, actually,” I answer with a polite smile.
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—?”
I stop when I recognize her.
White blonde hair. Perfectly symmetrical features. She’s so stunning it almost hurts to look at her, beautiful in a way that’s sharp and cold.
“You’re a very difficult woman to get alone, did you know that?” Annika asks me.
I can’t find the words to answer her.
“I’ll do the Yamazaki 18, neat,” she directs the bartender. Turning her gaze back to me, she adds, “Make it a double.”
Annika. Alec’s wife. Sitting inches away from me.
Her gray eyes scan me up and down, assessing me. She’s older than she was when the photo I saw was taken. Younger than me by more than a few years. Her hair is shorter, and somehow her bone structure feels almost lethal in its beauty.
She looks dangerous.
I swallow dryly, suddenly self-conscious of the sundress I threw on before heading down here. Annika is the picture of elegance in her perfectly tailored ebony jumpsuit and sky-high stilettos so thin I wouldn’t trust them to carry my bodyweight.
“Don’t worry.” She gives me a sharp smile. “You’re not in any danger.”
I wipe my fingers over the hem of my dress, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. “Why would I be in danger?” I laugh.
Her expression softens into something almost pitying.
She signals for the bartender, and I only realize that she’s ordered me another martini when it’s delivered a moment later, without my asking.
At least my drink of choice is more dignified than my current appearance.
I touch the space between my cheekbone and eye, where I can still feel the swelling.
I take a steadying breath. “If you’re looking for Ale—”
“You’re exactly who I’m looking for,” Annika interrupts. She takes a delicate sip of the amber liquid in her glass.
I let out a weak chuckle. “That’s surprising. I figured you’d be looking for your husband.”
Her hand pauses on her drink, almost like she’d forgotten. “Oh, that. A business arrangement, nothing more. He and I have very little to talk about these days.”
“You’re still wearing a ring,” I point out. A blue sapphire glitters on a platinum band around her finger, sparkling in the dim lights of the bar.
“It keeps the men away,” Annika admits, turning her hand to admire it. “Most of them, anyway.”
“Mace keeps them away, too,” I murmur into my drink. She laughs at that, the sound light and musical.
“No, I wanted to talk to you,” Annika says. “Woman to woman.”
“Is this the part where you warn me away from them?” I joke.
This time, she doesn’t laugh. She watches me like she’s evaluating me, waiting for me to make my next move.
“It is smart of them to put you here,” she comments, motioning around us. “It’s secure. Safe.”
A shiver rolls down my spine.
“You should stay for a bit.” She says it conversationally, but there’s something in her tone that puts me on edge. It sounds like friendly advice, but it feels like a threat.
“That’s the plan,” I tell her, taking a long drink from my martini.
“Good.”
My muscles tense, anger creeping into my veins. “Not to be rude, but I’ve had a really shit few days, and this is not the conversation I thought we’d have if we ever met.” I turn to glare at her. “What is this? Are you trying to tell me to stay away from them? Or are you marking your territory?”
She scoffs. “Please. Marking my territory? The possessive big brother schtick isn’t exactly my type.” She shoots me a look. “Men like them? You should stay away from them. They’ll chew you up and spit you out.”
“And why would I believe you?” I challenge.
“Because they did it to me,” she says, a bitter undercurrent to her tone.
I glance at her ring again. “You said it was a business arrangement.”
“The marriage? It was.” Her finger traces the rim of her drink. “There was never anything between Alec and I, Sydney. Nothing like that, anyway.”
“Then what—”
“Is sex the only type of relationship you respect?” She levels her icy gaze at me. “The only way you can conceive of being close with a man?”
“What?” I draw back, offended. “Of course not!”
“You make it sound like that’s the case,” Annika tells me. She brings the glass to her lips, but pauses there, before drinking. “They were my family. The only family that I ever loved. And they left me, like I was nothing.” With a single graceful movement, she drains her glass.
There’s pain in her voice, hidden beneath the ice. When she sets her glass back on the bar, she sets it down a little too hard.
“I hope they don’t do the same to you,” she says, rising to leave.
“Wait!”
Annika pauses a few feet away from me before turning back. She takes a step toward me.
“You can return this to my ‘ex,’” she says, pulling the sapphire ring and matching band from her finger and placing them in front of me on the bar. “Tell him I signed the paperwork this morning. I’ve kept my side of our deal.”