The city hadn't fully woken when Barbie and Cassie walked down the narrow alley that led to Velvet Room, the club that fed both their wallets and their secrets.
The neon sign flickered like it was trying to forget what it spelled.
"Can you believe we survived that party?" Cassie muttered, tugging her coat tighter around her glittering dress. "You were two seconds from fainting when Mark's mother came near the cake."
Barbie gave a dry laugh. "Don't remind me. One wrong look and she would have recognized me from those private shows Mark used to pay for."
"Used to," Cassie echoed, side-eyeing her. "So that's really over? Three months, gone just like that?"
Barbie didn't answer. Her heart still twisted when she thought about how clinical that arrangement had sounded when it started—three months only. But Mark had made it feel real: his rough tenderness, the way he looked at her like she was the only one he saw.
