Page 84 of Filthy and the Beast

I consider calling Enzo. He’d rush here and take me away, probably treat my cut like a life-threatening wound. It would make everything better. But I’m too embarrassed. It’s nothing but a cut and a stressful job. I shouldn’t need a rescue, and I want him to see me in a different light.

Instead, I call someone who has already seen me crying at all my lowest moments: my insomniac mother.

“Damian? Is everything okay?”

I sink into the armchair, shoved in the corner of the staff room. “Hi, Mama.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

She huffs. In my mind, I can see her putting a book aside. “It’s been years since you called me in the middle of the night. What’s happening?”

I look at my bandaged hand. “I think I hate my job.”

“With the boxer?”

“No. At the sex club.” I swallow. “I’m here now. I hate it so much that five minutes ago, I started to panic. I couldn’t breathe.”

“You had an anxiety attack?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I just know every time I come to work, I hate it more.”

I never thought I’d dread a sex club. Hearing myself say it is surprising.

“Damian,” Mama says kindly, “that’s not sustainable. You shouldn’t do that to yourself.”

“I can’t just quit.”

“Why not? Your job with Enzo is still secure, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And I love it. But I need to quit that, too.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m sleeping with him.”

When Mama catches up, she sucks in a surprised breath. “You’re sleeping with your boss?”

“I know,” I tell her, exasperated. “It’s a bad idea. And now I need to quit so I can tell him I have feelings for him. That means I also need this job tending bar so I can support myself, so I can’t quit Pistil and Stamen even though I hate it, hate it, hate it.”

“Damian, isn’t Enzo nearly my age?” Before I can answer, Mama continues talking, her voice picking up. “And did you just say you have feelings for him? Damian, are you drunk?”

“What?” I sit up. “Why would you ask that?”

She laughs. “Because ever since you moved away to college, anytime I’ve so much as subtly implied you might have feelings for someone you’re sleeping with, I received a very stern lecture about how you’re not looking for a boyfriend.”

“Well, congratulations,” I say sarcastically. “You were rightagain,Mama. But don’t you see? That’s why I can’t quit the club. I need the money so I can support myself. I can’t rely on Enzo for everything.”

Concerned, Mama hums. “If you feel reliant on him for everything, it raises some red flags, Damian.”

“Exactly. I don’t want to rely on him. That’s why I need to walk back out there, put on a grownup face, and make horny people their cocktails. Right?” I sigh. “That’s the parental advice I was calling for, anyway.”

At least I think it was.

“We don’t tend to offer advice up on demand like that,” Mama says dryly. She clears her throat. “Damian, it’s clear you’re confused and overwhelmed. But one thing I’m hearing is that you hate your job and it’s giving you anxiety attacks. That means you should quit. Period.”

I shake my head. She’s not listening. “Mama…”

“You have Mom and me,” she says, “and I know your friends love you just as much. You want to provide for yourself, and that’s admirable. But there’s no reason to torture yourself with anxiety when I know very well you’ve built up your savings these last few months.”

The door to the break room swings open, and Ares steps in.

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