Frankie bursts into a grin. “Iris,” he murmurs, shaking his head, “we didn’t save you from one prostitution ring just to sink you into another. Besides, you know Christian would never allow that.” I scowl, angry to have been led astray by his story, but Frankie just laughs some more and continues.

The days move fast like this. I take as many doubles as Andre will give me – and he’s willing to give me a lot – because I like being at Lupa. I like it one hell of a lot more interesting than being in the penthouse. Even though I’ve turned it much more into a home than it was before, there are no

Andre barks my name, breaking me from my thoughts, and I have to skitter across the bar to help him dismantle a couple of booths and set up a table for sixteen. “God,” I murmur, carrying one end of a heavy bistro table back into the service room, “I thought I was like…ornamental.” “We’re all orn

Christian just waves his hand. “The girl is a nobody,” he says, his voice calm – even bored. “Just a stripper – that computer wiz, he had money for a minute. And expensive tastes, if you know what I mean.” A little chuckle goes around the table as I straighten and start to walk away, going slower

Andre gives me off lunch shift the next day since we were there until an insane hour, and when I meet Frankie in the kitchen yawning and seeking coffee, it’s far past lunch time. “I hate you,” Frankie murmurs, handing me my coffee as he rubs his eyes. “You’re throwing off my sleep schedule, Bambi.