Page 80 of Forbidden Fate

“Yes.”

Her answer is simple. I want to understand it. I’m not sure I do.

“I chose it,” Esmeralda says. “This house had been kinder to me than anywhere else in the world. The women here were kinder. Señora was kinder. Men were men, but at least here they paid and followed rules.”

Mercedes nods. “Mostly.”

“Mostly,” Esmeralda agrees.

“And when they don’t,” Señora says, “they leave without teeth.”

Esmeralda sips her coffee. “I actually made a lot of money my first time.”

Mercedes leans toward me. “She auctioned off her virginity.”

I drop my jaw.

Esmeralda rolls her eyes. “Don’t make that face. I was of age.”

“I wasn’t—” I stop, because I absolutely was making a face. “Sorry.”

“You’re allowed. It was dramatic.” She bites her lip. “I was lucky, I suppose. A lot of people who left the orphanage had been abused sexually. I’d avoided that at least.”

“Still,” I say, searching for the least offensive word. “Was it…safe?”

Señora answers before Esmeralda can. “I chose the man.”

Strangely, that reassures me a little. Señora Valentina may work in a questionable field, but there’s no doubt in my mind she’s a good and trustworthy woman.

“I chose the man too,” Esmeralda says. “From options. Señora filtered out the animals.”

“There are many animals with money,” Señora says.

“Many,” Mercedes agrees.

Esmeralda shrugs. “I made enough to have choices afterward. More than I’ve ever made in one night since, of course, because men are ridiculous about firsts. But I don’t regret it. I know that makes some people uncomfortable.”

I am definitely some people.

But maybe that’s my privilege talking.

Maybe I’m sitting here in borrowed silk, drinking coffee I didn’t pay for, judging a woman who found a way to take control of the only asset the world was willing to recognize.

What the hell do I know?

“I’ve enjoyed the work,” Esmeralda says. “Not every night. Not every man. But enough. I like being desired. I like choosing. I like money. I like this house. And I’m grateful to Señora because she gave me the chance to decide.”

That last word settles over the table.

Decide.

I understand that.

More than I expected to.

Last night, I decided things about my body I never decided before. Things that would look strange from the outside. Maybe even alarming. Things another woman might not understand if she heard them over coffee.

But they were mine.