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Oh, he had so many questions he wanted to ask. But he didn’t want to press her. She needed time to get to know him and trust him.
He wanted to hold her and never let go. Protect her from— “Do you work at Café Milan?”
She stiffened and pulled away, staring at him. Her jaw trembled and her eyes filled with tears again. Her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered and winced.
“Why?”
She searched his eyes, brows knit together. “You’re not judging.”
He shook his head. “Why would I judge?”
“Girls who work there have reputations.” She gave a small shrug. “I assume you know what happens there?”
“I’ve heard rumors.” He clenched his jaw at the thought of the place offering food, wine, and prostitutes. But was she at the Café by choice?
“Geoffrey... He found me on the streets, in the middle of a rainstorm, and took me in.” She stared at the floor.
“You were living on the streets?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “It was better than where I’d been before.”
Mark’s heart broke at her words. How terrible a place it must have been to think the streets of DC were better than her previous living arrangements?
“I owe him my life,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. “I don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. “I can help you. I can—”
Her eyes widened with fright and she shook her head. “No. No, you can’t. You can’t let anyone know you know...” She swallowed. “Please. And you have to call me Emily. Otherwise—”
“Why?”
She swallowed hard. “Please, promise me.”
He hesitated, but relented at the desperation in her eyes. “Okay. I promise.” He hated making a promise like that, but he couldn’t resist her plea. More than anything, he wanted her to trust him.
There had to be something he could do to help without breaking his promise. Hewouldhelp her escape that place. But he wouldn’t tell her that now.
* * *
Emily shudderedas she remembered what happened when a man tried to rescue a girl from the Café. It had been awful. He’d been beaten to within an inch of his life, and the girl... Amber’s death was a much better way to go. That all happened when Emily had been living with Geoffrey, when he’d first taken her in.
She couldn’t bear the thought of something like that happening to Mark. She shivered. “I should go.”
“Why?”
She stared, not having an answer. She’d told him too much and wanted—no, needed—to escape. What would Mark do with the information she’d shared? Would he tell her father or Rafael? The reward for her return was huge. Even someone like Mark couldn’t withstand the temptation for long.
Her shoulders slumped. He would tell her family and...
Well, was it so bad to be taken back home after what she’d been through the last few years? Did she even have a home to go back to? If Mark had figured out she’d left on purpose, her dad and Rafael would have figured it out too. They weren’t dumb.
At least here she had a place to live and work. Back home? Too many terrible possibilities. She’d probably end up on the streets again, and she didn’t want that.
No, staying here was for the best. For now. Until Geoffrey got sick of her and kicked her out.
Or worse.
She squeezed her eyes shut as she realized she was trapped. There were no good options. Sooner or later, she would end up on the streets again because she’d be too old to be of any interest to men. As it was, she was pushing the upper end of the desirable age range.
