“So do you like working here?” I ask. It’s a dumb question, but I can’t think of a better way to phrase what I really want to know.
“I do. Very much. If I’m lucky enough to choose, I think I’d like to work for Master Kian for as long as I can. He’s a kind man.”
I raise my eyebrows, unable to agree with her. “You’ll forgive me for not having the same opinion,” I drawl.
She doesn’t smile. In fact, her shoulders stiffen a little. “Villains and heroes come in all different shapes and sizes,” she tells me. “Sometimes, one thing looks like the complete opposite.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “You’re trying to tell me that Kian O’Sullivan is a hero in disguise?”
“I’m only trying to say that people are more complicated than they seem,” she demurs. “Do you know that for the three years I was forced to be a sex worker, there was one name I heard quite a bit?”
I feel my stomach drop. My body knows what she’s going to say before my mind does. But I have to know. I have to hear the words.
“What name?” I croak.
“Lombardi,” Aisling replies, her tone heavy. “Master Kian may have killed him decades ago. But his money is still flowing in the underworld. His sins are still living.”
I look at her in shock, wondering if I should be worried about my safety with her. There’s a vein of darkness in Aisling that runs deep. I can’t blame her for it—if I were in her shoes, I’d have gone postal years ago.
“Your father is a hero in those circles,” Aisling continues, though her expression doesn’t change. Neither does the gentle pressure she’s applying on my arms, even though I’m half expecting her to start squeezing the life out of me. “He’s revered as the don of the underworld. Half the trafficking rings in New York exist because he built them. And if he didn’t build them, he funded them.”
My stomach twists, but there’s nothing left to come out. “Oh God…”
She releases my hand. “Like I said, people are complicated. They’re not black and white. I don’t assume that you’re a monster just because your father was.”
The words are soothing. But I’m still having trouble processing the disturbing stories she’s just told me.
“Dinner will be served soon,” Aisling says, getting to her feet. “It’s time to get you dressed.”
She turns and I realize that my opportunity for escape has just presented itself. I can use any number of objects in this room as a blunt weapon. One well-placed hit across the back of her head and I’d be able to slip out unnoticed.
But two things make me hesitate.
One, I’m still reeling from the haunting story she just told me.
Two, I don’t want to play into the image that I’m a terrible human being simply because of my last name.
While I’m still thinking about my options, Aisling turns with the dress in her arms. The opportunity passes. I’m surprised to find that I’m actually relieved about that.
“You’ll look beautiful in this,” she tells me.
I get to my feet and disrobe. I slip on underwear—black panties and a matching bra that’s dressy but comfortable.
Then the dress. As Aisling removes the protective covering, I’m really able to appreciate its beauty. It’s made of a fabric that I’m unfamiliar with. So thin that it’s almost sheer, and a shimmery nude color that catches the eye, set in a pattern of criss-cross diamonds. The silhouette is fitted, ending just below the knee.
Aisling zips it up at the back for me. “It’s perfect.” She gives me an approving nod.
She spins me around to face the floor-length mirror and even I have to admit that I look good. The dress hugs my figure, accentuating how long and lean my torso is. I’ve lost weight, but the gloss of the dress helps to hide the fact that I’m looking a little too skinny.
I just stand there as Aisling brushes out my hair and applies a dab of nude lipstick. Finally, when she approaches me with a box of eyeliner and mascara, I stop her. “That’s plenty,” I say. “I don’t really wear makeup.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, sounding disappointed. “I’ll be subtle.”
“I’m sure,” I say resolutely.
She puts away her disappointed expression and brings out a pair of satin beige heels with a thick heel. Clearly, they’re designer wear, too.
“You’re ready,” she says when the heels are on. “I’ll take you to the beach.”
“The beach?” I ask, walking slowly.
“Master Kian requested that dinner we served on the deck. It offers the perfect view of the ocean.”
As we walk down the stairs, dread winds its way through my body. I want to be strong. I want to resist him. To keep hating him the way I always have.
But with every passing me, that’s getting harder and harder to do.