Chapter 6 The Mockery
AMELIA
I slipped out of room three, closing the door softly behind me.
My first night at Crimson, and I'd already slapped a customer unconscious.
'She won't last a week,' Jade's voice echoed in my mind.
Maybe Jade was right.
My legs felt unsteady as I made my way down the hallway, one hand trailing along the wall for guidance. My lips still tingled from the kiss. My palm still stung from the slap.
I'd left him there. He was passed out drunk, and my handprint was probably burning across his face.
I had no idea what I was supposed to do now. Find Nina? Tell Marco? Pretend nothing happened?
The music from the main bar pulsed through the walls—slower now, heavier. I could hear conversations underneath, the kind that stopped when strangers got too close. The clink of glasses. The shuffle of cards. The sharp crack of pool balls breaking.
And underneath it all, tension. Like everyone was waiting for something to go wrong.
I reached the end of the hallway where it opened into the larger space. The sounds hit me all at once—overlapping conversations in English and Italian, someone speaking Russian in the corner, and laughter that sounded forced.
I just needed to find the stairs. Get back to my room. Figure out what came next.
"Well, well." A female voice dripped false sweetness. "Look who's back already."
I froze.
Footsteps approached. Multiple sets. There was a sharp click as the heels hit the hardwood, a sound that was both predatory and deliberate.
"What's wrong, Amelia?" Jade's voice was close and full of mockery. Did the customer dislike what he saw?
Laughter erupted from at least three other girls, maybe more.
"I told you she wouldn't last," Jade continued. "What was it, fifteen minutes? Twenty?"
"She probably just stood there like a scared little rabbit," someone else added.
"Maybe he took one look and sent her away." More laughter from them.
Heat crawled up my neck. I wanted to defend myself, to tell them what actually happened. But what would I say? That I'd slapped him? That would make everything worse.
"Excuse me," I said quietly, trying to move past them.
A shoulder slammed into mine—hard enough to make me stumble, nearly losing my balance.
"Oops." Jade's voice, dripping venom. "Didn't see you there. "Oh, I see—that's a challenge for you, isn't
The other girls laughed louder now. Cruel.
I steadied myself, hands out, trying to get my bearings. Trying not to show how much that had hurt.
"Maybe Marco will give me the position now," Jade continued. "Since you clearly can't handle it."
"Can't handle anything," another voice chimed in. "Look at her. Probably never even been touched before tonight."
My face burnt. They weren't entirely wrong.
"What do you think happened in there?" someone whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. "Think she cried? Think she begged?"
"Think she even knows what she's supposed to do?"
More laughter. Sharp. Cutting.
I stood there, trapped in the centre of their circle, feeling their eyes on me, even though I couldn't see them. Feeling small. Exposed. Exactly as weak as they wanted me to feel.
"Come on, girls." A new voice—older, tired, carrying weight. "Leave her alone. We all had a first night."
"Yeah, but we didn't run out after fifteen minutes," Jade shot back.
"Maybe her customer is still in there," another girl suggested. "Waiting. Wondering where his entertainment went."
My stomach dropped. I hadn't thought about that. What if he woke up? What if he was angry? What if he told Marco—
"Jade." The older voice carries a warning now with authority. "Enough. Let's get back to work. All of you."
A tense pause. I heard Jade exhale sharply—frustrated but unwilling to push further.
"Fine." Jade's footsteps retreated. "But she's bad luck. Mark my words."
"Bad luck, Amelia," another voice echoed, fading away.
The other girls scattered, their whispers and laughter following them.
"You okay, hon?" The older woman's hand touched my elbow gently. "Don't mind them. Jealousy makes people nasty."
"I'm fine," I managed, though I wasn't sure that was true. "Thank you."
"Stairs are straight ahead. Ten feet. Can you make it?"
"Yes."
Her hand squeezed once—warm, brief, the first real kindness I'd felt all night. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's another day."
She walked away, leaving me alone in the bar's centre.
I moved forward carefully, counting steps until my foot found the first stair. Behind me, I could still hear voices. Still feel their attention on my back.
Bad luck, Amelia.
Maybe they were right about that too.
I made it to my room without any other incidents.
The door closed behind me with a soft click, and suddenly I was alone again. Safe.
I stood there for a moment, just breathing. Letting the tension drain from my shoulders.
My first shift at Crimson. Disaster didn't even begin to cover it.
I'd been assigned to a drunk customer, kissed without permission, slapped him hard enough to leave a mark, and gotten mocked by the other girls for leaving too soon.
And yet.
And yet I was here. I have a room with a door that locked. With a bed.
I kicked off the too-high heels, not caring where they landed. My feet ached. My shoulder throbbed from where Jade had shoved me. Everything hurt.
The dress came off next—I struggled with the zipper but finally managed it. Left it draped over the dresser and found my way to the bed in just my underwear.
The sheets were cool against my skin. Clean and real.
I pulled the thin blanket up to my chin and lay there in the darkness that was no different from daylight to me.
For the first time in four days, I wasn't on a park bench. Wasn't worried about someone attacking me or stealing what little I had. Wasn't wondering where I'd sleep the next night.
The relief hit me all at once.
Tears leaked from my eyes before I could stop them. Not sad tears exactly. Just release. The overwhelming exhaustion of survival is finally catching up.
I'd made it. Barely. Messily. But I'd made it.
The sounds of the bar filtered up through the floor—distant music, occasional laughter, and the low murmur of dangerous men conducting dangerous business. Strangely comforting in their consistency.
My body started to relax. Muscle by muscle. The adrenaline that had kept me going was finally ebbing away.
The pillow was soft beneath my head. The mattress, while narrow, supported my weight.
'This is just temporary,' I told myself again. Just until you find something better.
But for tonight, it was enough.
My breathing slowed. Deepened.
I thought about the drunk customer. The way his voice had sounded—commanding even through the alcohol. The way he'd said "blind," like it meant something more.
The way his lips had felt against mine for that brief, unwanted moment.
I pushed the thoughts away. Tomorrow I'd deal with whatever consequences were coming. Tomorrow I'd figure out how to navigate this new life.
Tonight, I just needed to sleep.
And for the first time since leaving St Mary's, I did.
I really, truly slept.
The kind of sleep that came from exhaustion and relief, as well as the simple luxury of feeling safe enough to let go.
Even if that safety was an illusion.
Even if tomorrow brings new dangers,
Tonight, in this small room above a bar full of criminals, I finally rested.
And that was enough.