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One
Knock.Knock.
Emily Dawson’s shoulders slumped at the sound and she stared into the glass of golden cinnamon whiskey she’d just taken a sip from. She closed her eyes and blew out a breath through pursed lips, trying to calm her heartbeat, which had taken off like a racehorse at the starting line.
The slow breath did nothing. She swallowed as she stood and walked to the front door of her tiny studio apartment just outside of Washington, DC, and opened it.
Her boss and restaurant owner, Geoffrey Lozano, leaned against the door jamb—tall, broad, and as handsome as he was sadistic—wearing his customary tailored suit. Charcoal gray tonight with a silver tie. His dark hair was messy, unusual for him. His piercing blue eyes searched hers for a long moment.
Without a word, he brushed past her, studied the room, and sat down at the flimsy metal card table Emily ate at. He leaned back in the plastic folding chair and finished off Emily’s just-poured glass of whiskey in a single gulp.
He poured another glass, took a sip, and shook his head with a laugh. “Man, that stuff burns.”
“C-can I help you with something, Geoffrey?” She contemplated the nearly empty bottle and gave a silent sigh. She’d been planning on emptying the bottle herself. It had been a long night at Café Milan.
Geoffrey looked around the shabby apartment again. “You like living here?”
“I’m grateful for a roof over my head,” Emily said in a quiet voice. The apartment was clean, rodent-free, and didn’t leak when it rained or snowed. He paid for the apartment. She had no complaints.
“How would you like a nicer place to stay?”
“What do you mean?”
“Section One has an opening.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m offering you the position.”
Emily’s jaw dropped open. “Me?”
“I know you want to work in Section One. And you deserve it. You’ve worked hard these last few months.” He stood and stepped closer. The scents of oregano and basil from the Café’s kitchen filled her nostrils. He ran his hands up her arms and softened his voice. “Be a good girl and show me how much you want this position.” He caught her chin in his hand and let his blue eyes burn into her soul.
Emily’s stomach churned. He’d said the same thing when he took her in, out of the raging thunderstorm, with the promise of a new life. He’d said it when she’d gotten clean and was ready to start working at the restaurant. He’d said it—
“Unless you want me to offer it to someone else.” He released her chin and flashed his charming smile. “My favorite customers have asked about you, Em.” He slid a finger down her cheek and softened his voice again. “It’s time for you to get to know them better.”
Section One waitresses were respected. Section One waitresses lived in spacious, expensive condos in a building close to the Café. Section One meant no more nights being used as an anonymous body by Geoffrey’s favored friends and clients in the back room.
She’d always imagined the customers in Section One were classier, less cruel. After all, only elite members of DC society were seated at those tables.
But Geoffrey also held the girls of Section One to a higher standard. He was merciless with their mistakes.
Emily gave a tight smile. “Why me?”
He trailed his fingers across her cheek again and to her lips. “Because you are a talented server, Emily. Your customers love you. You impress them at every turn.” His fingers moved down her neck and to the edge of her sweater. “And you please me.”
“There are other servers who have worked for you longer than me.” Her voice cracked as she used every ounce of her willpower to stay still. “Won’t they be upset?”
“You know how I run my place. Only those I trust receive promotions. I trust you because I know you. You have nothing to gain by going behind my back and everything to lose.” He spun her around, pulled her back against his chest and kissed her neck. “I know you,” he repeated, his breath tickling her ear, making her shiver.
Emily blinked and stared at the wall across the room as Geoffrey held her, kissing her neck. What he was asking... Could she do it again? Willingly allow him to recreate that horrible night from so long ago? The night that haunted her nightmares even now?
Why had she ever told him about what happened to her? He’d only ever used it against her.
She shivered at the thought and wondered for the hundredth time why Geoffrey insisted on reenacting what Rafael had done to her in order to show how much she wanted something from Geoffrey.
But this promotion was a chance to gain some of her self-respect back. A chance to save some money and escape the shackles of prostitution. The guests seated at those four tables were some of the wealthiest, most powerful people in the country. If they were treated right, they left generous tips. Very generous. After a few years, she’d have enough to leave the Café and live life on her own terms.
Maybe this would be the last time he asked her to do it?
If this was the way to gain her freedom, she could endure the nightmare once more.
