And she knew how to attract the right kind of clientele. Her dress and shoes were designer, the jewelry she wore expensive but understated. She’d scrimped and saved for her outfits or had received them from former clients as gifts, all so she’d look the part. Her dark blonde hair was styled to perfection, and she’d learned to carry herself with sophistication and class, all to mark her as an escort of a special kind.

It was all an illusion, of course. Even before she’d taken a break from escorting, Ruby’s life had been far from glamorous. She spent most of her time lounging around her crappy one-bedroom apartment in sweats. The effortless confidence and charm she projected for her clients? Also an illusion. She was a mess of anxieties and unpaid bills.

Ruby sighed. Why was she finding this so difficult? Could it be that the problem was Ruby herself? Could it be that her heart just wasn’t in it anymore? It would be understandable, considering everything that had happened with her last client. Over time, that person had become far more than just a client.

And then he’d shattered her, along with her life.

Since then, Ruby had been trying her hardest to pick up the pieces, to rebuild her life, herself, again. But after being powerless for so long, she didn’t even know where to start.

Ruby sat up straighter. She wasn’t going to let that get to her. She was going to get back into the game.

She stirred her drink, a martini, continuing to scan the room. As she did, she noticed a woman walk through the door.

Ruby watched the woman surreptitiously. She had long brown hair, one shade away from black, and dark, bewitching eyes. Her elegant black off the shoulder dress was form-fitting, but in a tasteful way. She was on the shorter side, but her confident bearing, the purposeful way she walked, made her presence feel far more imposing. Several heads turned as she walked past, but the woman paid them no mind. She simply sat down at the bar and ordered a drink.

Ruby took another sip of her martini. If she’d learned one thing, it was that the kind of women who employed her services—rich, powerful, confident in their sexuality—had extremely specific desires. Some of them were exactly the same in bed as they were in all other parts of their lives, commanding and in control. Others were the complete opposite, seeking refuge in Ruby from their demanding lives, wanting to let go and hand Ruby the reins.

She knew which type she preferred. Which kind of woman was this dark-haired goddess?

Ruby was getting ahead of herself. Was this woman even interested in women? Was she looking for company?

Ruby studied her, searching for answers. The bartender set the woman’s order in front of her, a bottle of top-shelf scotch and a single glass. That was a good sign. For starters, it meant that the woman was wealthy enough to afford Ruby’s time. More importantly, it suggested she wanted to drink her troubles away. In Ruby’s experience, people in that situation wanted company just as much as they wanted to drink.