Leo nodded and left without another word. Enzo hesitated, then he too walked out and closed the door behind him. I slumped in the chair, and let my eyes take in my windowless office. I grabbed the first folder, determined to learn everything I needed to know to do a good job. I didn’t want to disappoint Dante. I knew he was risking the wrath of many Made Men by letting a woman work this job.
* * *
My eyes were burning from the dry air-conditioned air, and I’d only gotten through two folders, when a knock sounded at my door. “Come in,” I called hoarsely. I cleared my throat as the door opened and Enzo poked his head in. “Raffaele is here. Should I let him in?”
I stifled a smile. Was Enzo now acting as my secretary? “Yes, thank you.”
Enzo held the door wide open. Raffaele strode in with a scathing look in Enzo’s direction, who returned it with the same fervor. He closed the door and stood in front of it, arms crossed and hard eyes on Raffaele. “Can’t you talk to me without your watchdog?” he asked with a nasty smile.
I straightened. With my high heels I was as tall as him and immediately felt more at ease. “I could, but I won’t,” I said, making it sound as if it was actually my decision, and not Dante’s order.
Raffaele seemed taken aback, but he recovered quickly. “You wanted to talk to the whores. They are getting ready in their dressing room.”
“Good. Lead the way.”
Raffaele walked out without a word and headed toward one of the doors leading away from the main floor. Enzo was close behind us. Raffaele didn’t bother knocking, he just ripped open the door. A few of the girls let out surprised gasps, but when they saw who it was they quieted. Apparently they were used to that kind of behavior from him. Raffaele made a mock sweeping gesture, inviting me inside the dressing room. “Careful,” Enzo hissed, bringing his face very close to Raffaele’s. “Or do you want to lose another finger? Dante won’t let you stitch it back on.”
Raffaele turned red but he didn’t dare give a nasty retort, though it was obvious from his expression that he wanted to.
I took a step into the dressing room, then stopped. “Is it okay if I talk to you for a moment?” I asked the gathered girls. There were ten of them, varying in age from their late teens—that’s what I hoped, at least—to their late twenties. Some of them catered to the girl-next-door, cheerleader taste, while others were more exotic. Almost all of them were sporting silicon breasts. Their expressions ranged from suspicious to worried to outright scared. As if choreographed, their gazes sought Raffaele, silently looking for his permission. I could tell by the self-satisfied grin and the way he seemed to get bigger how much he enjoyed it.
“I want to have a word alone with the girls,” I told him firmly.
“But—”
“No but,” I said at the same time as Enzo gripped Raffaele by the collar and shoved him outside, then followed after him and closed the door so I was alone with the girls. I turned my full attention to the women, who’d all stopped what they were doing and were watching me. “Maybe you can introduce yourself. Name, age, how long you’ve been working for the Outfit.”
I pointed at a petite Asian girl in the corner when it became clear that none of them wanted to start. After that, they all seemed to relax and gave me their information without much prodding. To my relief, the youngest girl was already twenty, unless she was lying about her age.
“How are you being treated?”
Again silence.
“The Outfit treats us very well,” a girl named Amanda said.
“I want the truth. Does Raffaele treat you with respect?”
A few of the girls exchanged amused expressions, and finally one of them said. “We’re whores. Hardly anyone treats us with respect. Raffaele is no exception.”
“He’s not the worst.”
“That’s your opinion, not mine.”
“Oh shut up.”
I raised my arms and the girls fell silent. “Okay. Who’s worse than Raffaele?”
“A few of the customers are into beating us up. And Tommaso wants some nasty stuff too.” That didn’t come as a surprise. Bibi didn’t tell me everything, but the few things she’d shared with me about her sex life with Tommaso had made my stomach turn.
“I like it rough.”
“You like everything, but I don’t.”
“Oh get over yourself. They buy your body so they decide what to do with it.”
“You sound like Raffaele.”
“Okay, okay,” I said slowly. “What exactly is Raffaele doing?”
“He’s like our pimp. He tests us before he decides if we’re good enough to work here. And he makes sure we make the customers happy. And if we don’t, he punishes us.”
“I assume ‘tests’ mean he’s sleeping with you?”
“Fucking us however he likes is more like it.”
“And what exactly does he do to punish you?” I asked, but the bruises the girls had been about to cover up with makeup before I entered gave me a good idea.
“He slaps us, or fucks us really hard. Or he sends us to one of the whorehouses at the outskirts of town.”
“The johns there are the worst. They are drunk, and brutal, and fat.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. Any good things you can tell me?”
“The money is great. I can buy nice clothes and rent an amazing apartment. That’s something I could never do without this job.”
Many girls nodded, and I tried to take comfort in it. They all had started working as prostitutes on their own free will, and they earned more money than most people with a college degree. I talked to them a bit more and asked them to tell me when a customer was too brutal. They promised to do it, but I wasn’t sure if they were only saying
