Chapter 4

Aiden

“Hey!”

Ana’s grumble snapped Aiden out of his self-pity.A passing group of men had bumped into a waitress, in turn knocking her into Ana. The girl seemed like she recovered herself quickly and managed to right her tray without spilling any drinks. Still, the motion had startled Ana, and she fixed a nasty glare on the waitress.

“Watch where you’re going, you little b*ch. Get one drop on me, and I’ll have Chris kick you out on the streets like that.” Ana tried to snap her fingers for effect, failed, and succeeded on the second try. “You can crawl back to whatever hole you live in and *** your landlord for rent.”

Classy, said Horatio.

Aiden knew the waitress. After four years, he knew every single person who worked for Chris. Her name was Sarah, and she was half Ana’s age and size. Sarah had a good head on her shoulders and a pretty face too, and in mid of all the women like Ana Santiago, she was someone Aiden would like to get to know her better. Sarah was too smart to get involved with any of her boss’s party friends and had made it completely clear her purpose in putting up with drunken gangsters was to feed the two small children she had at home. Aiden respected that. There was something in her that reminded him charmingly—and painfully—of his sister.

Even now, Sarah was too savvy to offer a word of protest. She offered a soft apology as she delivered the table's drinks.

Ana watched her go, apparently feeling proud of what she'd done.“I get that Chris wants easy a** around, but I don’t know how he puts up with the incompetence. She’s lucky she didn’t ruin this dress. It’s from RUSA, you know.” That was directed toward Aiden, as though he should be impressed. “Not that you’d expect trash like her to understand that.”

“Trash? She’s from the same place you are,” said Aiden. He spoke quietly, but everyone at the table heard.

Ana’s eyes widened. “I live over on the west shore.”

Hans made a low noise of warning in his throat, but something in Aiden snapped. He was so, so tired of this place. Tired of the games, tired of women like Ana, tired of dancing for Chris' entertainment. There would be no end to this place, and it made Aiden angry, angrier still that Hans would get to leave it.

“But you grew up in San Garcia,” Aiden told Ana. “It’s in the way you slur your S’s and use expressions like ‘easy a**.’ All the money and power in the world aren’t going to change where you came from, and trying to hide it with piles of fake jewelry isn’t going to work either.”

Ana flushed. “These are real!”

“The hell they are. I can see the brass tarnishing from here. And that dress is not from RUSA—unless you managed to visit a post-Feriae costume clearance sale. That fabric’s just some flammable castoff from Guatemala. I know, because I saw it in stock at that tailor down on Flores Street, which is the same place I get my sh*tty knockoffs.” Aiden paused to take a drink, then remembered he was out. “You can put on as many airs as you want, but in the end, that dress is the same as you: an old, cheap design dressed up to look like it’s worth more than it is.”

The table held its breath, and then Ana, face furious, flung her wineglass at Aiden, leaving a bloody stain on his shirt. “Looks like it’s time for another sh*tty knockoff.” She stormed away, probably straight to Chris.

Hans caught hold of Aiden's arm and steered him from the table. “Okay. Let’s go get a cigarette, Little Miss Charisma.”

“You don’t smoke,” Aiden said, letting himself be led.

“It’s not for me. Here.” Hans took off his coat and handed it over. “You don’t want the world thinking you were shot. Unless you want to play dead when her husband comes seeking revenge.”

“Will this get me out of the country?” Aiden asked ruefully.

Hans gave him a sympathetic smile as an answer and opened a door that led out.

Aiden groaned. “I don’t know why I put up with this.”

“I’m sorry,” said Hans.

“It is what it is. It has been for a while.”

A hint of Hans' old smile returned. “I don’t suppose you’ll ever tell me the real reason you left?”

“Nah. I know how much you like the Penelope story. Wouldn’t want to ruin it for you.”

“I thought it was Phoebe. Or Pamela.”

Aiden waved it off. “Doesn’t matter. She’s a shameless *****.”

“Right. You’re better off without her.”

“Exactly.”

Hans chuckled and held out his hand. “You going to be okay if I go?”

Aiden shook it. “Depends if I can keep the coat.”

“Sure. I’ve got lots more where that came from.” Hans moved to the door. “Until next time.”

“Until next time,” Aiden repeated, watching the other man go.

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