Sitting here with a black card, ordering Champagne cocktails in a place I’d never have dared walk into alone.
For the first time since I arrived in London, I feel like I’ve accidentally slipped into the sort of life I only ever looked at through windows. And I’m not entirely sure whether I want to run from it or stay and see what happens next.
“How long have you worked for him?” I ask.
“Since I left school at sixteen.”
I nearly choke. “Sixteen?”
She laughs at my expression. “I was a little gobshite back then. Running wild, hanging around the estate, doing whatever I could to make money.”
Something in her tone makes me look at her properly.
“What kind of money?” I ask carefully.
She arches a brow. “Street money.”
It takes me a second. Then my eyes widen. “Wait . . . you mean prostitution?” She nods once, like she’s talking about any other old job.
“Wow,” I breathe. “Did your parents know?”
That makes her laugh again, but there’s no real humour in it. “You’re so sweet, Wynter.” She takes a sip of her drink. “I didn’t know my parents. I grew up in care.”
My chest tightens instantly. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
She shrugs, though I can tell it’s one of those things that shaped her anyway. “It is what it is. I was a walking poster for council estate Britain. I had no real direction, just trying to make enough money to party, drink, and forget about real life for a while. And it was easy money.”
“Then Ray found you?” I ask.
She snorts. “That makes it sound like some kind of sweet film.”
“Well, didn’t he?”
“In a way,” she says. “But not the way your face is suggesting.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“You look like you think he drove up in a fancy car and hired me for sex, likePretty Woman.”
My cheeks flame. “I didn’t—”
“You absolutely did.”
I cover my face for a second. “Maybe a little.”
“God, no,” she says, laughing. “He’s not like that.”
A waiter appears with our drinks, and she thanks him before continuing.
“It’s a long story, but he found me at a point in my life where things could’ve gone really badly. He gave me work. Proper work. Got me off the streets. I’ve never gone back.”
I blink at her, shocked at how honest she’s been. “You work in the casino full-time now?”
She nods. “And I make good money. Better money, actually. Cleaner money too.” She smirks. “It’s much better for the soul.” There’s warmth in her voice when she says his name next. “If it wasn’t for Ray, I honestly don’t know where I’d be.”
I believe her. She’s been singing his praises all day, but not in a mindless way. More like someone who knows exactly what he saved her from. It makes something shift inside me.
I lift my cocktail and take a sip. The taste explodes over my tongue—sharp, cold, sweet, perfect. I close my eyes for a second.