The room isn’t empty. It’s filled with exotic women, each dressed provocatively. I know the look. I can perfectly imagine pressing my nose into the silk and smelling my mother’s perfume. I thought it was so glamorous. The slick fabric and lacy edges, the spicy perfume and lotions. It wasn’t until after the men left and the costumes were removed that the truth was revealed. Bruises and red, swelling welts, smeared mascara and the scent of liquor. There are men in the room, too, full of smiles and charm. For now. I edge myself closer to Killian, curling a hand around his thick, tattooed arm.
