I passed a security guard who barely glanced up from his phone.Walked through a break room where two women in housekeeping uniforms were eating lunch.Neither paid me any attention.Out the employee exit and into the alley behind the building, afternoon sunlight hitting my face like a blessing.
I’d done it.I’d actually fucking done it.
The high-end shopping district was six blocks away.I walked fast but not too fast, keeping my head down until I was several streets over.Then I ducked into a boutique bathroom and changed -- stripped off the uniform and stuffed it in the trash, pulled down the skintight dress I’d slipped on under the uniform, finger-combed my hair out from under the cap, and pinched my cheeks for color.
The woman staring back at me in the mirror looked wild.Free.Like someone who’d just escaped from prison, which wasn’t far from the truth.
I found a café and ordered an espresso I didn’t want just to sit somewhere that wasn’t forty-three floors up.Watched people pass on the street -- normal people living normal lives, none of them trapped in arrangements with men who controlled their wardrobes.
By the time I left and found a bar, I’d been free for almost two hours.The sun was starting its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.The bar was upscale without being pretentious -- leather booths, dim lighting, a bartender who looked like he’d heard every story twice.
“Macallan 18,” I told him.“Neat.”
The scotch burned exactly right.I ordered another.
The man who slid onto the barstool next to me was attractive in that generic way wealthy men often were -- good haircut, expensive watch, confident smile.“That’s some serious scotch.”
“It’s been a serious week.”I took another sip, feeling the alcohol warm my chest.Feeling free in a way I hadn’t since I’d agreed to Dante’s terms.
“Let me guess.”He signaled the bartender for his own drink.“Bad breakup?”
“Something like that.”I turned to face him more fully, letting him see the dress, the bare shoulders, the woman who wasn’t wearing conservative blouses and demure smiles.“I’m celebrating my escape.”
“From?”
“Everything.”I laughed, and it felt good.Genuine.Like maybe I could still be the person I’d been before the contracts and arrangements and cages.“From expectations.From control.From --”
A hand closed around my elbow.Firm.Familiar.
My blood went cold.
“Enjoy yourself?”Dante’s voice was quiet.Conversational.Absolutely terrifying in its calm.
The man next to me glanced between us, his expression shifting from interested to wary in the span of a heartbeat.Smart man.He could probably sense the danger radiating off Dante like heat.
“I was just --” the stranger started.
“Leaving.”Dante didn’t raise his voice.Didn’t need to.“Now.”
The stranger left.So did several other patrons near enough to feel the shift in atmosphere.The bartender suddenly became very interested in cleaning glasses at the far end of the bar.
I turned on my barstool to face Dante, my pulse hammering so hard I felt dizzy.He looked exactly as he had this morning -- perfectly tailored suit, perfectly controlled expression.Nothing about him suggested rage or violence.He could have been meeting me for drinks we’d planned weeks ago.
Except for his eyes.His eyes were cold enough to freeze blood.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”He kept his hand on my elbow, his grip just firm enough to make his point.“That I wouldn’t have every street camera in this district monitored?That I’d simply let you walk out of my home without consequence?”
My mouth had gone dry.I reached for my scotch with my free hand, but Dante moved it out of reach with his other hand.
“No more drinks for you.”He pulled me off the barstool with controlled force, not rough enough to cause a scene but firm enough that I had no choice but to follow.“We need to have a conversation.In private.”
The bar had a back room, one of those spaces reserved for VIP patrons or private parties.Dante led me toward it now, past the few remaining customers who were suddenly very interested in their drinks.
He opened the door and guided me inside.The room was small.Leather couch, low table, dim lighting.Expensive and intimate in a way that made my stomach clench.
Dante closed the door behind us.The lock clicked into place.
I heard that sound and felt every bit of my temporary freedom evaporate, replaced by the cold certainty of what came next.
