“Tony notified us as soon as they showed up, but when he called back and said you’d gone into the elevator with them…”
The right thing to do would be to reach out and touch her, assure Lydia that while I was scared, I handled it like she taught me. But to acknowledge it would harden her up, and I don’t want to be responsible for that.
“Sometimes I wonder what the fuck I got myself into.” She stands to her feet and picks up the desk phone. “You can’t be here, Camilla. And I can’t leave. Hopefully Yael answers his phone because he’s the only one I trust to take you home tonight.”
“Lydia, I don’t want to go.” Disappointment’s heavy in my arms, and sadness settles in the pit of my stomach like rocks. Or maybe it’s something more, something meaner, like rejection.
How can she expect me to go?
And that’s all it takes for her walls to erect too high for me to climb. Any softness or signs of worry disappear from Lydia’s face, and she stops being my friend and locks completely into her position as my boss.
“I should never have invited you here tonight,” she mumbles under her breath. Dialing Yael’s number, she turns to me and adds, “It’s bad enough I let you—”
“I’ll take her home.” Wilder slides his arms into his blazer as he walks toward us. He hasn’t bothered to straighten his tie, and his hair is as rumpled as it was when I found him.
The first time I laid eyes on Wilder was the same night I became a paid escort. Lydia had dressed me in a beautiful gown, curled my hair, and made sure my makeup was as impeccable as her own. And then she threw me to the wolves and watched as I baited them with my body.
The Carousel of Love Gala was supposed to be a fundraiser for the less fortunate, but it didn’t take long for me to realize no one cared about the community they were meant to raise money for. The rich and influential assembled to compare their treasures, patting each other on the back for their role in widening the gap between the wealthy and poor.
Selling myself was pointless. I was a hot commodity—a shiny new thing to covet. Paired with Hush’s strict dedication to privacy, every person in that building knew they could have me for the ridiculous price of two thousand dollars an hour. I was as good as sold before I arrived.
My job that night was to watch the nightmare in action and endure.
There was a point when the fight for my undivided attention became as exhausting as pretending to like it, and the monsters inside the closet back home seemed safer. As the room spun around, and around, and around until everything and everyone turned in a blur of color and sound, I found Wilder Ridge sitting alone at a table, still and solid.
For the remainder of the evening, when the whirl threatened to make me sick, Wilder acted as an anchor and kept me from getting too dizzy. Even if he didn’t know it.
Lydia hangs up the phone and steps in front of me as Wilder approaches. “Do you think it’s a good idea to leave?”
Wilder pulls his jacket straight and watches for my reaction before admitting, “I don’t like the way Luca was looking at her, Lydia. One of us has to take her.”
“Stay with Talent. I’ll run her home.” Lydia’s eyes cross the room to find Talent sitting at a long table with hardened criminals laughing, like this is a typical meeting with a typical client.
“I wouldn’t leave my brother if I didn’t think he could handle it. My dad is on his way, and I’ll be right back. I’ll take Camilla to the apartment and make sure she gets inside safely.”
Listening to them talk like a divorced couple arranging a pickup and drop-off schedule for their child chases away disappointment and leaves me feeling absolutely annoyed.
“I want to stay,” I say, using real effort to sound as important as they are. “If you let me stay here, no one has to leave. It’s not like they hurt me or anything.”
“No,” Lydia says.
“Not fucking happening,” Wilder answers simultaneously.
Pushing the subject while the Coppolas sit in the next room would make me look unruly and them weak. As badly as I want to insert myself into their dynamic, I keep my mouth shut and head to the elevators alone. I’m not something that needs to be looked after. I don’t need them to hold my hand like I have the potential to be lost in a crowd.
When have I ever given either one of them a reason to think I can’t take care of myself? When have I ever been less than supportive and up for a challenge? Lydia was the most powerful escort in the state before she became who she is today. Have I not done my best to fill her shoes?
I’m still learning the ropes, but I know that David Ridge is involved in organized crime. Ridge & Sons has deep ties with the Coppolas, funneling the mob’s money through legal business the legit side of the law firm oversees. I know that Lydia inherited Hush after the founder, Inez Ricci, died last year. And I know that instead of letting Hush fall to pieces, she decided to run an entire prostitution ring out of the tallest high-rise in the city and continue the legacy.
Lydia’s put me in the position to finish what she started. Why has she decided I’m capable of sleeping with her clientele but unworthy of standing by her side?
“Camilla, wait,” she calls out. “Don’t leave yet.”
Relief is as warm as … a gosh darn food light that keeps the French fries warm.
“Can you take Dog home?” She walks backward toward her office, waiting for me to say yes. “I don’t know how long this is going to be, and he’s probably ready for bed.”
I was just locked in an elevator with the mafia and rejected by my only real friend, written off as a child trying to dabble in adult business, and now she wants to ask me for a favor? Now I’m her roommate who shares a dog that adopted her more than she adopted him? All of a sudden, I’m responsible enough to care for her prized possession?
