Page 29 of Dark Embers

“Just come in as soon as you can.”

An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. I call my mother to inform her of the unexpected work call.

“Don't worry about our little princess,” Carla assures me. “She's happy here. Take your time.”

I arrive at the Golden Lights Hotel, the place that has been my second home for years, and head to Heather's office. The stern expression on her face is a stark contrast to her usual demeanor.

“Sit down,” Heather says curtly, not bothering with a greeting or pleasantries.

“What's going on?” I ask, anxiety creeping in.

“First, I find out you've been fraternizing with a guest. Not just any guest—Oleksi Mirochin, the man running our biggest competitor on the Strip.”

I'm taken aback, words failing me.

“Then,” she continues, placing a clear evidence bag on the desk containing an expensive gold watch, diamond cufflinks, and a wallet, “there's this. You stole from him? And hid it in your dressing room?”

“What? No! I've never stolen anything in my life,” I stammer. “I didn't take anything from Oleksi Mirochin. He watched me leave his room.”

“So, you admit to being in his room?”

“He offered to help find my sister,” I explain, realizing how flimsy it sounds. “But not like that.”

“I don't care about the details,” Heather interrupts. “You know our policies—no fraternizing with guests, especially not on hotel premises. You have one hour to clear out your dressing room and leave.” She slides an envelope toward me. “This contains your wages for the month, plus two extra weeks. I know you have a baby.”

“Heather, I didn't steal this. I'm being set up,” I implore her. I can’t afford to lose my job. “If I had stolen something I wouldn’t be stupid enough to hide it in my fucking dressing room at the hotel.”

“I'm sorry, Sabrina,” she says, her tone softening slightly. “I can't risk the hotel's reputation. I've worked too hard to let anything jeopardize it.” She shakes her head. “I’ve worked alongside the Molchanov’s and Mirochins for decades without trouble—I can’t go looking for any now.”

Numb, I nod, take the envelope, and head to my dressing room. As I pack my belongings, a storm of emotions brews within me—anger, betrayal, confusion. On the drive to my mother's, my thoughts churn, each one leading back to Oleksi.Why would he do this? Was it because I declined his help? Or was there another motive?It hits me like a sledgehammer.

His words from the night before running through my mind:

You obey me, you get rewarded. You disobey me or displease me, you get punished and trust me, the punishment isn’t always enjoyable.

This was about not just controlling me in the bedroom any more. The moment I said no I didn’t need his help with Tara he needed to prove that he didn’t just control me sexually but owned my life!

Before I realize it, I'm pulling into the parking garage of the Diamond Hotel and Casino. I climb out, slamming my car door shut and lean against it, heart racing like I’ve just run a damn marathon.

That’s when I see them—faint purplish marks circling my wrists. Oleksi’s cord. The one I asked him to bind me with. The one that turned me inside out with pleasure and trust.

And now… betrayal.

My reflection flashes in the glass of my window, and I barely recognize the woman staring back. I feel like I’m being buried under the weight of too many emotions—shame, rage, humiliation, heartbreak. But I don’t fold. No, I straighten, brushing my fingers over the bruises.

These will be my proof.

And then I remember something else.

Sam. The damn surveillance system.

I swipe open my phone and dial my old high school sweetheart, Marco.

He answers on the third ring. “Rina, tiny ballerina,” his voice croons through the receiver, that smooth, familiar Italian accent wrapping around me like comfort. “Long time, bella. Did you miss me?”

“I need a favor, Marco.”

“Anything for you, bella.”

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