Page 34 of Only for Love

My sad smile tells him everything he needs to know. Bruno never flirts with me. My guess would be because he knows most of my story. For as hard as he acts, I think he actually wants to help. Why else would he have hired me back in the day when my body was a little soft?

“Just doing the gig.”

“You’re too young.” He shakes his head. “To live like you’re that old.”

It’s almost like he wants to fix my past by supporting my future. I don’t know if that even makes sense. It’s just what it is. I’m his marquis girl, so he wants to take care of his meal ticket.

But he’s also convinced that being twenty means that eventually, I need to let loose and partywithsomeone, preferably one of the patrons. That way he’d make a little, I’d get a little, and everyone would be happy. In his mind, a good old-fashioned, screaming orgasm—from aperson,not a vibrator—would be life altering.

Well, no thank you. Did that once, and itwaslife altering. That’s about as much paradigm shift as I could handle.

“I need a couple minutes, Bruno. Seriously, I’m fine, and I promise I’ll make us good money.”

His hand lands on my shoulder, and his fingers give me a squeeze. “You raked in more money in the last hour than ever before.”

“Yay, me. That’s a good thing. Right?”

He smirks sarcastically. “Emma, you cleaned out wallets. So I know you’re in your head.”

“You give me this same speech every week.”

Nodding, he looks over my shoulder. “Just want to keep you working for as long as possible.”

“Got it.”

“And…” He paints on a smile that can only mean vulgarity ahead. “If you feel the need to blow someone, make him pay first.”

“I’ll remember that.” My eyes roll. The shit that comes out of his mouth is so foul that it’s not. Sex is business. To Bruno, it’s no different buying someone an ice cream, a Rolex, or an orgasm. Each provides pleasure.

He moves aside, and I teeter-totter down the stairs, heading to my vanity. A quick once-over of my makeup and that damn glitter spray, and I’m good. I check my phone. It’s blinking with a text message from Cherry. She knows I’m at work, and my stomach drops.

Cherry:Call me.

Shit. I swipe the screen and call back. My mind’s running fast as the music’s dropping upstairs. The phone’s ringing, and I’m trying to stay grounded.Nothing’s wrong. I tie on my corset and slip on some thigh-highs. No answer, voice mail.

Biting my lip, I think, it’s probably nothing, but my heart’s beating faster. “Hey, it’s me. Just checking on everything. Call me back.”

The room feels like it’s closing in, but if something was really wrong, Cherry would’ve called and texted something like SOS or ASAP. Something. Anything. I grab a black see-through robe and sash it so my boobs are on display.

My phone rings, and I jump for it. “Cherry? Everything okay—”

“Emma, oh my God.”

My pulse skyrockets. “What?”

“We went for ice cream. I saw Julie, who was with Trevor and—”

“Cherry,what?”

“Grayson Ford’s unit was attacked. They said no one survived.” Cherry’s voice cracks. “I’m so sorry.”

I falter, stumbling back to my chair. “God…”

Bile churns in my stomach. I want to be sick. I want to run away from tonight, throw my phone away, and pretend what she said is wrong, that he’s just far away, never to be heard from. Death is final. My hopes… I always had hopes. “Oh, God…”

Footsteps creak at the top of the stairs. “Emma. Get up here. Folks are restless.”

I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Okay… I have to go.”

Ending the call, I’m numb. But I have to go to work. I need to… just do something. Otherwise, the overwhelming loss might kill me in my chair. “Coming.”

Slowly, I push back up the stairs and zero in on my prospects for the night. It’s easy to map who’ll be up for private time. I can close my eyes and hide my tears. I’ve lost my Grayson, but at least I have our daughter.

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