Chapter 3

She stood at the entrance in a fitted red silk dress with a high slit, four-inch stilettos strapped to her feet. She had lost count of how many times she had bowed. Each movement sent pain drilling through her old injuries until, for a second at a time, she was back on that floor three years ago, listening to her bones break.

During a rare lull at the door, Sophia shifted her weight and secretly moved her left foot, the one hurting worse.

A coworker standing nearby reached out to steady her. “First night in heels is brutal if you’re not used to them. You’ll adjust. But Isla’s weird for putting you here when she knows your legs aren’t good.”

Sophia could hardly tell her this was Oliver’s idea.

She forced a small smile. “It’s fine. I asked for this position. Hostesses make the most.”

The coworker clicked her tongue. “It’s only a couple hundred more a month. Why destroy your body over that?”

Sophia pressed her lips together and said nothing.

She had no phone, no money, and no ID on her. Worse, she had a prison record. Finding a decent job in Sterling was impossible now. The Watson house was closed to her. If she had not run into Oliver that afternoon, she might have slept on the street tonight.

So yes. A couple hundred mattered.

While they were talking, several brightly colored sports cars rolled up to Scarlet’s entrance. Young men and women spilled out laughing, dressed in the casual arrogance of people who had never wondered whether rent would be paid.

Sophia straightened. Before she could greet them, a woman’s voice rang out, bright with delight and sharpened at the edges.

“Well, would you look at that. What perfect timing. Aiden, come here. Guess who this is?”

Sophia froze and turned toward the voice.

The woman had chestnut hair in glossy waves and a smile polished enough to cut glass. Familiar, but for a moment Sophia could not place her.

The woman saw her blank look and smiled even wider, as if she had been handed a gift. “Sophia, did prison scramble your brain? It’s only been three years. You don’t recognize me? Josephine Jenkins.”

The name clicked into place.

Josephine Jenkins. Sophia’s old enemy.

Where Josephine went, trouble usually followed in heels.

Sure enough, Josephine tilted her head, her voice carrying clearly enough for every hostess at the door to hear. “When did you get out? You should have told your old friends. We would’ve thrown you a proper welcome-home party.”

The other hostesses stared. The coworker who had helped Sophia a minute ago took one instinctive step back.

Sophia kept her professional smile in place and bowed. “Welcome to Scarlet. Please enjoy your evening.”

Josephine’s jab landed in empty air. Her sweet expression tightened at the corners. She hooked her arm through the man beside her and leaned half her body against him in a performance of wounded innocence.

“Aiden, Sophia’s bullying me. I was genuinely happy she got out, and look at her. She won’t even accept my kindness.”

Sophia’s gaze moved despite herself to the man at Josephine’s side.

For one disorienting second, the noise around her went thin.

Why was he with Josephine?

The “Aiden” Josephine had called so intimately was Aiden Sanchez, Isabella’s ex-boyfriend.

Sophia had never fully understood what had happened between Isabella and Aiden. They had been together for a long time, then suddenly broke up. Not long after that, Isabella told Sophia she was marrying Oliver.

Meeting her sister’s former boyfriend at Scarlet, under Josephine Jenkins’s arm, was one humiliation too many. It settled over Sophia with a numb little click.

Aiden’s eyes had found her the moment he entered. His lashes lowered, hiding whatever passed through them. He looked at the woman in front of him, the woman who resembled Isabella enough to wound people who wanted to be wounded, and his voice came out stiff.

“You got out today?”

He sounded as if he had known.

Sophia hesitated, then nodded.

Aiden sighed. “Then cherish the life you have now. Start over properly. If you run into trouble, you can come to me anytime.”

Josephine’s face twisted before she could stop it.

Back in school, Sophia had beaten her without even trying. No matter what Josephine did, someone always compared her to Sophia and found her lacking. When Sophia went to prison, Josephine had finally won.

Now Sophia was out, and apparently still capable of taking things that belonged to her.

Josephine’s eyes shifted. Then she leaned against Aiden’s shoulder and laughed softly. “Aiden, Sophia must be exhausted from standing here all night. We’re all old friends, aren’t we? Why don’t we have her come in and catch up with us?”

Aiden did not think it through. “Fine.”

Sophia recognized the malice in Josephine’s smile instantly. She also understood, with a dull acceptance, that this was exactly why Oliver had put her at the door.

To be seen. To be recognized. To be dragged into rooms by people who remembered what she used to be.

She turned to her coworker and lowered her voice. “Sorry. Could you tell Isla a guest requested me?”

The coworker still looked wary, but she was not cruel. She nodded.

The private room was already crowded. Dim lights. Heavy liquor. Cigarette smoke in the upholstery. The moment the door opened, the smell rolled over Sophia’s empty stomach.

She frowned and followed Josephine inside.

“Aiden, you’re impressive tonight. Isn’t this the hostess from the front door? You brought her in?”

Sophia’s eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness when a hand slid up her thigh.

Every hair on her body rose.

She jerked back, but her bad legs betrayed her. Her balance broke. She fell backward with a small gasp and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact.

Pain did not come.

Something worse did.

An arm looped around her waist and pulled her against a man’s body. A teasing voice dropped over her head. “Not bad. Throwing yourself into my arms already? Why don’t you stay with me tonight and make it worth my while?”

As he spoke, his hand moved toward her chest.

Sophia crossed her arms over herself and blocked him. “Sir, please don’t.”