The Price of Protection and the Dancer Who Refused to Bend
Attached to it was a small card with my name written in elegant, sharp cursive.
I opened the bag to find the midnight-blue silk gown.
It was beautiful, expensive, and felt heavy in my hands.
When I put it on back at the hotel suite, I barely recognized myself in the mirror.
The dress clung to my curves, the dark blue fabric contrasting with my pale skin.
I pulled my hair back, leaving a few strands to frame my face.
I looked like a woman who belonged in Dante Russo’s world.
But inside, I felt like a fraud.
I felt like a mother who had sold her soul to keep her child fed.
I walked into the adjoining room where Mrs. Patel was bottle-feeding Lily.
“You look like a princess, Sophia,” the old woman said, smiling warmly.
“Thank you, Mrs. Patel,” I said, leaning down to kiss Lily’s forehead.
Her skin was warm and smelled of baby powder.
“Keep the door locked,” I whispered to Mrs. Patel. “Do not open it for anyone except Dante’s men.”
“I will, dear. Don’t worry so much. Enjoy your evening.”