Another part of me tensed in anticipation. Maybe he had information for me.
“Ivan’s here?”
“Just talked to him in his office.” Lola winks. “Oh, did I not mention? He wants to see you.”
* * *
If the Grand is the murky underwater, then the basement office is the sea bottom, far enough down that no light can reach. The railing keeps me from tripping and falling down the stairs. At the small landing, I knock on the door and wait.
There’s a framed painting of the Grand hanging on the wall. Its brick was once a deep, startling red. For some reason, the painting hasn’t faded, entombed here in the basement. But the real brick did fade. It turned dark the way blood does when it dries. That’s all the building is to the city now—a scab.
A minute passes, and then I hear Ivan inside. “Enter.”
When I go inside, it’s the opposite of a stage. There are no spotlights to blind me. Just a dim stillness to wade through. The room is mostly unfinished, with a concrete floor and exposed vents from the ceiling. It’s the kind of place where I wouldn’t be surprised to find a person hanging in chains in the corner. A dungeon.
There have never been chains down here. I have an overactive imagination.
Or maybe a good memory, of a different time and place.
“Mr. Kosta,” I say.
“Sit.” He doesn’t look up from the paper he’s reading.
I’m not sure how the small lamp provides enough light to see by, but he’s absorbed in his work. Then his gaze flicks to me, and I understand. Because his pale blue eyes are like spotlights, making me feel exposed.
“How are you, Honey?”
I suppress a shiver.
The first time we met, I came to him for a favor. I needed information. Why had my mother planned to come here? What was waiting for her here? And some small part of me still hoped she’d arrived, that she’d escaped some other way.
Ivan had made me dance for him.
He watched me impassively. The hardness in his suit pants told me he liked what he saw, but his eyes were flat. He made no comment on my body, made no move to touch me. Instead he said I would work at his club. I would only have to dance. Not fuck anyone. And in return he would look for the information I needed. He was the most well-connected man in this old city.
And he named me Honey. Similar to my own name, but the opposite really.
I hate the name, and I think he knows that. It’s a hammer. Every time I hear it, I sink a little deeper into the wood.
I think he knows that too.
“Fine, sir,” I say now.
That earns me a faint smile. “So respectful. Are you this respectful with everyone?”
Yes. I’ve always been the good girl. “I don’t know.”
I remember avoiding Blue’s gaze. I remember kneeling at Kip’s feet. I probably do look respectful, but mostly I feel afraid. Maybe those are the same things.
“Do you know why I called you down?”
I shake my head, hopeful. “You found something?”
“Yes.” He leans back and crosses one ankle over his knee. “But that’s not the only reason. Someone was asking about you.”
My throat seems to close up entirely. I can almost hear the metal clang of a gate falling around me, trapping me where I sit. He already knows way more about me than is safe. I had to tell him in order to stay here. Had to tell him to get the information I need. Had to tell him to keep my sister safe. Clara.
If he tells someone else, I’m fucked. And so is she.
“Who? When? What did you tell them?” My words come out soft, almost like a shuddery breath. That’s all I can do now. Count my breaths and stare down the barrel.
“I told them you’re one of my girls.” One corner of his mouth lifts. “I told them you’re valuable to me. And loyal. Aren’t you?”
All I can think about is running again. That’s the opposite of loyalty. “Yes.”
He laughs softly. “You’re a nice girl. A good girl. You’ve always done what I need you to. I like to reward good behavior.”
Does he mean information? Protection? The former is why I’m here. But the latter… God, we need protection. I can’t imagine he would do that. No matter how much I earn onstage, it isn’t worth using his resources to guard me. No, I can’t rely on Ivan.
We’ve been found. We’re in danger. My mind is already mapping bus routes out of the city. Where would I go next? Far. That’s the answer.
As far as the money I’d earned stripping would last.
He looks thoughtful. “You’ll be safe enough here. His name is Kip. And I think…” A smile now. “I think he wants to fuck you.”
Relief pours through me, so hot and potent I feel faint with it. I can’t even be angry that Ivan has been taunting me with this. It’s not Byron. It’s not my father. It’s just a man interested in a stripper—nothing special here, move along. “I’ve danced for him.”