Page 12 of Unlock My Heart

“Better.” I rise, grabbing my ice pick. “Oh, and your redhead employee, Sienna? She’s off-limits.”

He looks like he’s dying to mouth off, but his eyes land on the ice pick as I toss it in the air and catch it with one hand. Wisely, he thinks better of it. “Understood.”

I stroll out of his office, but my feet falter. Lobby or bar exit? Not that I don’t want to see the spicy redhead again, but as Sienna pointed out, my odds would be better if she didn’t believe that I’m drunk.

She was clearly uncomfortable with her boss’s advances; that’s why I texted Michele to get to his office. Then I tried my hand at flirting with her and got my ass handed to me.

A huge grin spreads across my face as I exit the bar.

Piccante? Nah, that’s not her nickname, either, and my girl should have a good one.

Chapter Three

Sienna

Eighteen-years-old

Twirling in front of the mirror, I adjust my mini dress I snagged from the thrift store sale rack. The heels are likewise a bargain bin find. Technically, I am walking the street, but I have a destination in mind, thank you very much, Chantelle.

After discreetly asking around—and finally resorting to paying a housekeeper for the information—I learned about the escort service being run out of none other than Hotel D’Amico’s lounge.

Stepping through the lounge’s street entrance, I weave my way through the crowd with a lively jazz band performing on stage. I linger at the back of the bar, waiting until someone exits the employees-only area. Catching the door with my boot, I slip inside the hallway, my hand trembling as I knock on the only office door with light peeking from it.

“Enter.” An old woman looks up from her desk as I step inside, closing the door behind me. “Jade?” I ask.

“Maybe. Who the fuck are you?” she demands.

“My name is Sienna. I’m here for the ‘hostess’ position. I was referred by my friend Chantelle,” I lie.

“Sweetie, let me give you some advice,” the woman says, striking a match and lighting her cigarette in one of those fancy cigarette holders that I’ve never seen anyone use in real life. “Nobody in this business is your friend.” Fitting her name is Jade with such a jaded outlook. In her late sixties, she was a knockout once upon a time, but her looks have started to fade—bitterness bleeding into the smoker’s lines around her mouth.

“Understood,” I tell her.

She gestures to the couch, and I take a seat. “While I’m dishing out life lessons, I’d suggest losing that hopeful glint in your eye,” she warns, blowing a long trail of smoke. “Men are all the same. They’ll promise you the moon and deliver a wheel of cheese.”

“But I love cheese,” I joke.

“Damndest thing. I used to love cheese, but then I got old, and every food I enjoyed turned against me.”

“You’re not old.”

She clicks her tongue. “Aren’t you a little conniver?” That’s meant as a compliment, I think? “One more lesson: have an exit plan and stick to it.”

“Oh, I do. This is just temporary⁠—”

“They all say that, but the lure of cash and male attention makes it hard for a lot of girls to walk away. Be smart with your money, or you’ll wise up too late, with nothing to show for it.” She motions to herself with the flourish of her hand.

“Thanks, I’ll remember everything you said.”

She flashes a knowing smile. “You won’t, but such is life. Now, enough chitchat. Let’s get down to business.”

“So I’ve got the job?” I ask hopefully, despite Jade’s warning.

“Of course you’ve got the job.” She ashes her cigarette. “You’re a knockout. Quick-witted. Well-spoken. You’ll make a perfect girlfriend experience ‘hostess.’” She reaches into her desk, producing a pen and paper. “Let’s get your intake form filled out, and I’ll need some head and full body shots, and then you’ll be ready to start earning bank.”

I grin, bouncing in my chair excitedly as I answer her questions. Age. Weight. Height. Natural hair color. Eye color. Breast size, real or implants.

“Hard limits?” she asks.