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Jess gently massages my back, helping me calm down. “It’s that bad, huh?”
“I’m desperate, Jess,” I begin to sob. “I already work two jobs…” I stop here, at the realization that Iworkedtwo jobs. “Considering how I just got fired from one and Starbucks isn’t exactly the pathway to millions, how the hell am I going to find five grand in a week?”
“Five grand?” Jess screeches.
I look up with a sudden jerk. “Not helping, Jess,” I warn her.
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” she mutters. Then, she lowers her voice. "You know. If you need that kind of money, there might be another way."
"Really?" I ask, desperation coloring my tone.
"Yeah," Jess nods. "My cousin works at a club downtown. It's not the most glamorous job, but it pays well, and they're always looking for new people."
"Club?" I ask, my mind immediately jumps to all sorts of seedy establishments. "What kind of club?"
"An upscale one," she explains a little too quickly. "Nothing sketchy. Just... dancing, and the tips can be really good if you know how to work the crowd. They’ve got some privaterooms for dances, too,” she whispers. “I hear some of the girls make upwards of two grand per client giving private dances.”
As Jess speaks, my mind races with a whirlwind of emotions and possibilities. A club downtown. Dancing. Private rooms. It all sounds so foreign and intimidating to me, a girl who has never even set foot in such places. But the promise of quick money, the solution to my family's crisis, overshadows any apprehension.
The idea terrifies me. I've never been much of a performer, let alone an exotic dancer. But with my back against the wall, I can't afford to be picky.
"Are you serious?" I ask Jess, my voice barely above a whisper.
She nods earnestly, her eyes filled with empathy. "I know it's not ideal, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right? If you play your cards right, you could make enough to pay off those debts within a week."
“And I won’t have to… you know?” the idea of having to have sex with strangers is too much. It’s not just the fact that I’m still a virgin that worries me, but I find it to be such an uncomfortable concept.
“No, you won’t. It’s just dancing, Robin,” she reassures me.
I take a deep breath, trying to steel myself against the nerves that threaten to overwhelm me. "In that case," I say finally, determination lacing my tone. “Would your cousin be willing to help me get a job there?" I ask, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
"Absolutely," Jess says with a reassuring smile. "I'll give her a call right now."
As she leaves to make the call, my stomach churns with a mix of fear and determination. This isn't the life I imagined for myself, but I'll do whatever it takes for my brother's sake.
Chapter 3 - Boris
I slam my fists on the desk, frustration boiling inside me. Why haven’t the investors responded to my secretary’s calls regarding rescheduling our appointment? The incident with Lev and Veronika still looms over my head like a dark cloud, and I'm determined to handle it on my own.
I mean, what other choice do I have? I can’t exactly call Ivan. He would be angry beyond belief. I don't want any help from Damien. He’s got enough responsibilities on his plate with setting up our debt collection process. As for Lev, he’s the cause of this mess.
I'll have to clean this up myself.
"Damn it," I mutter under my breath as I struggle to find a solution. I glance at the photos of my parents hanging on the wall—their pride and dignity shine through, even in death. They used to dream of America. I can’t let them down.
"Anatoly Popov and Gerald Russo," I say aloud, remembering they’re the key players in the investor circle. I need to speak with them and sort out this situation once and for all. Anatoly will come around, of that I am sure.
But I am most worried about Gerald Russo. Russo invested in Ivan initially and was a key supplier of raw materials for Ivan’s needs. As Ivan grew in wealth, Russo fell behind, and in time, he realized that Ivan held the true power. He wants in on Ivan’s deals, but Ivan referred him to me, and to please Ivan, Russo is pretending to give this a shot.
I need Russo to come around because he has a direct connection to Ivan, and I need to save face in front of my cousin. Perhaps Anatoly can help convince Russo once I have him backon board. I grab my phone and dial Anatoly's number. It rings endlessly before going to voicemail.
"Mr. Popov, this is Boris Zolotov. We need to talk about rescheduling our meeting," I say as calmly as possible, trying to keep my anger in check. "Call me back as soon as you get this message."
Next, I try Gerald Russo. Same result—no answer, just his voicemail greeting mocking me. "Gerald, it's Boris. Call me back when you can, please. Both parties have been dealt with, and such an incident won’t repeat itself."
I toss my phone onto the desk, feeling the weight of disappointment on my shoulders. How can I fix this if these bastards won't even give me the time of day? I pace the room, my anxiety rising. This isn't just about money; it's about honor.
"Damn them," I growl, running a hand through my hair. Deep down, I know I can't just sit around waiting for them to call. But what other choice do I have?
