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“Fifty grand,” he said coldly. “And going by his reputation, I’m sure DeAngelis will show you a good time. Again. Or do you need to see that video again? I bet I can make it number one on Pornhub.”
I stared at him. The guy who’d talked marriage to me since the day we met. The rotten, smooth-talking bastard. And I had thought he was one of the good ones.
His lips twisted. “You fancy him,” he accused.
“Screw you.”
“I’ll make it a hundred grand. Even with your new job, you’ll never save that in ten years. Maybe your mom will be dead by then.”
I refused to let my tears drop. I glared at him, fists balled, chest heaving. I wanted to punch that smug look off his face.
He was right. A hundred grand would buy Mom her place at Mountview tomorrow. Would buy her health and her hope back. Would buy me the freedom to raise a baby. And all I had to do was click a button on a phone. Verify a text. I couldn’t say no and he knew it.
Chapter 3
BETH
Toby crossed his arms over his chest, smirked at me. Like all the men in that place who acted like they could buy a piece of me whenever they wanted. Maybe that was what did it.
“No,” I said. “I won’t.”
I rushed away before he could grab me.
Once inside, I raced upstairs to the club’s locker room, my heart pounding. Toby had followed me to the door, hissing threats, and then cursing me when I’d slammed it in his face.
I couldn’t believe after all he knew about me that he’d asked me to do something like that.
I grabbed my phone from my locker to check for messages and froze when I saw several missed calls from Bernie.
They had been made hours ago. I called her back, my hand shaking, my whole body going clammy.
Please don’t be anything bad. Please. You’re all I’ve got in the world.
“Bernie, what happened?” I asked when she answered, my voice shrill.
“Don’t worry,” she said immediately, her voice calm. “She’s fine. We had a little incident is all.”
I sank to the floor in relief, my whole body shaking as the adrenaline drained away, leaving me feeling limp.
“She’s okay? What happened?”
“She choked when I was feeding her,” Bernie explained. “I’m with her in the hospital now. Luckily, they’ve cleared her airway.”
“How is she now? Is she resting? Tell her I’m on my way in now.” I was already pulling on my jacket.
“No need for you to come here, honey. They’ve discharged her, and I’ll be taking her home. You may as well finish your shift. She’ll probably sleep the rest of the night.”
“They’re discharging her?” I said in disbelief.
“They’ve got no beds,” said Bernie regretfully. “They can’t keep her in.”
By the time I hung up the phone, I was fuming. How could the hospital send her home like that? Last time she’d got food in her lungs, she’d gotten pneumonia afterwards. She’d be drained by the ordeal. Scared of getting ill again. Ready to give up.
But I had no one to blame. The hospitals were over-strained. They did their best. So did Bernie. The only one I could blame was me.
The three years since Mom’s accident had felt like a decade.
Before that, we’d been happy. Briefly. I’d been in my second year at university, and had just got a part-time job at Bordello and was making enough money to get us a nice apartment. I was still amazed that all I had to do for it was look pretty, smile at the men, and serve them drinks.
