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“Thanks.” I’ve got the number pulled up on my phone and by the time I’m finished dialing I’m already taking the elevator down to the lobby.

“MISS, CAN I HELP YOU...?” The maître d’ looks serious, but his voice sounds distant as I walk into the restaurant.

I have tunnel vision as my eyes focus like a spotlight just got thrown on and is illuminating a single table with four people seated and one standing. Two women. Three men.

All but one of them I recognize.

And I cannot believe what I’m seeing.

This is a million times worse than what I imagined. A bazillion times worse. How could I be taken in so easily? Was this just an elaborate setup? How would they have known where I’d run that night? How would Vito have put himself in a position to ‘save’ me?

I swallow hard, trying to keep from being sick.

Nadine is one of the two women at the table. And from what I’m seeing, she’s fully involved in whatever it is that they’re doing. To her right is a woman I don’t recognize. She’s pretty and very young. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s barely able to legally drink the glass of wine in her hand. She’s laughing and smiling and leaning in close to Salvatore.

I’m suddenly freezing cold, and there’s a buzzing in my ears. Standing off to his right, I see the man from the pool at Vito’s. And then there’s the last person at the table.

Vito.

Nadine leans in, talking to Salvatore, and from what I see, they all seem pretty damn friendly.

“Miss, do you have a reservation? If you’re not eating, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

I turn and stare at the waiter, who looks embarrassed to be confronting me. Then I see a flash of recognition in his eyes and his manner softens. He’s the same waiter that tended to our table all night last night.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was you, miss. Nobody told me you would be coming. Please, can I get you anything while you wait? Would you like me to tell Mr. Vitaglia that you’ve arrived?”

I shake my head. “No. Please. Don’t tell anyone that I’m here.”

The waiter glances over at the table, then back at me as I take a step back behind the corner of the wall out of sight of the others. “Mr. Vitaglia might not be happy if I don’t tell him you’re here...”

“Please...” It’s clear that appealing to his compassion isn’t going to work, so I change tactics. “I want to freshen up before he knows I’m here.” Forcing a smile onto my face feels like the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, but it works.

“Okay... Of course. The bathroom is—”

“I know. Thank you.” With my heart pounding, I flee in the direction of the bathroom, feeling queasy, and my head doesn’t feel attached to my shoulders.

Inside, I run for the nearest stall and lock the door behind me, sitting on top of the seat and burying my face in my hands. Desperate for help, I take out my phone and dial my mom’s number. Sometimes you just need your mom, but there’s no answer.

I have no idea what I’m going to do. I’m trapped here in the bathroom, and if I don’t come out in the next ten minutes, that waiter is going to tell Vito I’m here for sure. The dress I’m wearing, the shoes, they’re Vito’s. He bought and paid for me, just like Salvatore planned to do. I’m being groomed.

Then I hear the squeal of the bathroom door hinge and soft giggling, then voices.

“So, you and Sal, huh? The job turned into something more.” Nadine’s voice hints at pride. “You owe me, you know?”

The other woman answers. “I know. I was scared at first, but turns out escorting isn’t so bad. The money is great, and now that Sal and I are together, who knows. Maybe he’ll retire me, and I’ll be a kept woman.”

Nadine chuckles. “I wouldn’t mind being Vito’s kept woman. Fuck, he’s hot. If things go the way I want, he won’t be leaving here alone. I’m hoping I can at least offer him a little taste. Maybe get on my hands and knees under the table for a little pre-show.” They both giggle some more, then the first woman’s voice comes through again.

“Honestly, I’m happier with Salvatore. He’s talked about Vito. Says he has no soul—a sociopath sort of. Sal says you brought him a girl from work. That was ballsy, an intern for the DA...you didn’t think she would go running back and blow things up for you? The five grand you get for each recruit wouldn’t pay for your attorney fees.”

“Sal would pay. Besides, she’s like a scared little mouse. The DA would believe me. I’d just say I had no idea what she was talking about and why was she meeting with a known crime boss at his place of business at night. I’d spin it just fine. It’s what I do.”

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