Page 13 of King of the Cage

It’s not your business, Giada. Don’t get involved.

I could practically hear my brother’s weary tone repeating one of his most uttered phrases. He was right. I shouldn’t get involved. But I’d always been a nosy bitch.

I quietly walked over to the cubicle and stood in front of the door. Waiting silently, I watched the stall.

After a few moments, it opened.

A woman looked up and squeaked when she saw me. I was ready for her, however, and shoved my hand in the opening, stopping her from slamming it shut.

“Hi, I’m Giada. Why don’t you come out here and tell me what’s wrong?” I hated the thought of leaving someone crying alone and feeling lost in the bathroom.

She came out slowly, flinching away from me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her, backing up so she relaxed.

She went to the sink and washed her hands, splashing water on her red cheeks.

“Nothing, just getting emotional. It’s a wedding, after all.” She took a deep breath and pushed her hair back, sending her silver bangles jangling down her arm.

That was when I saw it. A vivid circle of bruises around her wrist. All thoughts of clearing the room before hooking up fled my head.

I grabbed her hand before she could pull away. “What is this?”

She stared down at her hand clutched in mine. She’d attempted to put some concealer on it, but there was no concealer in the world that could cover that kind of bruise.

“Nothing. Just a routine job hazard in my line of work.” She tugged her hand from mine.

I caught sight of something else on the underside of her arm. A raised welt, in a strangely perfect circle holding an intricate design. I ran my thumb across the mark. It felt like embossed leather.

A brand.

Cold ran through me at the feel of her raised flesh. This woman had been branded.

“And what would that be?” I wondered, letting her arm go.

She put her bangles back into place self-consciously.

“The oldest job in the book. I’m here with someone tonight so everyone thinks he’s got a hot young girlfriend. The usual fake wedding date scenario, except this guy doesn’t like when I talk to any of his friends. Pretty young things are to be seen and not heard, apparently.” She took a lipstick from her clutch andsmoothed it on. “You’d be surprised how many men feel that way.”

“Sadly, I wouldn’t.” I sighed and leaned against the sink. “Who are you with?”

“Aldo Sepriano.”

I blinked at her. Enrico’s older, and far more successful, brother.

The girl watched me carefully. “I’m Alice, by the way.” She stuck a hand out to me. Her gaze was bold, but something in her eyes was shy. A confident veneer over her fragility.

I took her hand without hesitation.

“Giada.” I shook her hand, feeling her fragile bones under the surface. Had Aldo given her that bruise? He was the far more successful and respectable of the brothers, but even then, I’d heard rumors here and there.

She gave me a relieved smile. “Nice to meet you, Giada. You’d be surprised at the number of women who wouldn’t have shaken my hand, after knowing why I’m here and what I do.”

Her blue eyes were tired but honest. She was young up close, younger than her heavy makeup would have others believe. I guessed her to be in her early twenties. Maybe even younger, yet she had the confidence of someone who had been hooking for a long time. Too long for someone so young. Something protective moved through me.

I held her hand a second too long. “If Aldo gave you the bruises, who gave you the brand?”

Alice jerked back and pulled her hand away. She swallowed and dropped my gaze. “That’s not your business or your problem.”

---