Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
"Yes," Rosa cries, and the sound of her voice breaks me. "Did you know about her and Jaxon?"
"Yeah, unfortunately," I sigh. "Were you two…"
"I can't believe he did this to me," Rosa's voice cracks again. "We weren't officially together, but he was making promises… acting like I'd be ol' lady material."
"Men like him don't settle down." I hate to be the person to tell her this, but she needs someone to be the voice of reason.
When my eyes meet hers, I don't miss the sadness in them. "I know because I used to be like him. I was horrible to Allegra's mother. Sure, we were married, but it didn't mean I was a good man."
"I don't want to have to tell you this shit, but someone has to be on your side." I grab her hand and give it a squeeze, trying to be a good friend to her.
The door to the club opens, Iris is standing there, eyes locked on my hand on Rosa's.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Iris
The dim lights of Desire House blur as my head pulsates with the same rhythm of my heartbeat.
My stomach churns, a relentless wave of nausea that's been plaguing me all day.
The music coming over the speakers feels like it's piercing through my skull, intensifying the throbbing in my head.
I lean against the bar, hoping the cool surface will offer some relief, but it doesn’t.
Rosa's voice cuts through the haze. "Iris?"
I turn to see her approaching, iPad in hand and concern etched on her face. "You okay, chica?"
I force a smile, straightening up despite the protest from my queasy stomach. "Yeah, I'm good. What's up?"
Rosa's eyes narrow, clearly not buying my act. "Destiny called out sick. We’ve got three bookings tonight that need to be sorted out now."
The news hits me like a sucker punch.
Three clients.
"Shit," I mutter, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach. "That's... that's great."
Rosa steps closer, her perfume–a mix of jasmine and vanilla–momentarily overpowering me. "Iris, seriously, are you feeling all right? You look pale."
I want to tell her the truth.
That I've been feeling like death warmed over since I woke up this morning.
That the thought of walking, let alone breathing too hard, makes me want to hurl.
But I can't.
This job is everything to me right now.
It’s the only constant thing I can count on in my life.
"I'm fine," I insist, plastering on my best 'I've got this' smile. "Just a little tired. Nothing a Red Bull can't fix."
Rosa's eyebrows furrow, her brown eyes searching my face.
I can see she doesn't believe me, but she doesn't push it.
That's what I love about Rosa–she knows when to back off.
"Okay, if you say so," she concedes. "The first booking is in an hour. Client requested a schoolgirl outfit."
I nod. "Got it. Thanks, Rosa. Let’s see if Candy can take him, and we can figure out two more girls to take the other two clients."
Rosa nods, already scrolling through the screen. “Jasmine doesn't have anything booked until midnight. She could probably make the last two bookings work."
Relief washes over me. "That would be perfect. Could you ask them for me?"
"Of course," Rosa says, but her eyes narrow as she looks at me more closely. "I can do that, but... are you really okay, Iris? And don't you lie to me, I can see something's wrong."
I open my mouth to protest, to tell her I'm fine, but the words die on my lips.
Rosa's always been able to see right through my bullshit.
It's one of the things I love about her, even if it's inconvenient right now.
"I..." I start, but I'm not sure how to finish.
I take a deep breath, wincing as another wave of nausea hits me. "You're right, Rosa. I'm not feeling well at all. I'm super queasy, and I think I might throw up."
Rosa's expression softens, concern etching her features. "Are you sick, honey? Maybe you caught that bug that's been going around."
I shake my head, immediately regretting the motion as it makes the room spin. "No, I never get sick. This is... different."
"Different how?" Rosa asks, her voice gentle but probing.
I lean against the wall, trying to steady myself. "I don't know. It just came out of nowhere. One minute I was fine, and the next..." I trail off, not wanting to admit how weak I feel.
Rosa steps closer, her hand warm on my shoulder. "Okay, that's it. We're going up to your office right now. You need to sit down before you fall down."
"But the house—" I start to protest.
"The house will be fine without you for one night," Rosa interrupts firmly. "Come on, I'll help you upstairs. Then I'll get you some water and crackers. That should help settle your stomach."
I want to argue, to insist that I'm fine and can handle things on my own.
But the truth is, the idea of sitting down in my quiet office sounds like heaven right now.