“I have a way to get you into some money.” Dominic traced a finger down my arm. “And I know you’ll be really good at it. You’ll get all dressed up and go to a bar...”

“A bar?” I froze for a second as I realized where this was heading. “What the hell? You want me to be a hooker?” I shoved him away and leaped out of bed, reaching for my jeans. “Why don’t you go f—”

“That’s not what I meant,” he’d replied, holding up his hands. “Not at all. Are you kidding? You’re an amazing person, Lily. Beautiful, smart, funny—”

“Yeah? Is this the part where you tell me I’ll meet one of your friends for a quiet drink, or maybe someone who wants to buy me dinner? Only dinner, of course, nothing more?” I grabbed my shoes. “I thought you said I’m smart.”

“Let me tell you about my idea,” he said, his voice calm, and damn it, his French accent, and the memories of the sex we’d had, all making my resolve crumble. “It’s an easy way to make money. No sex, no strings, nobody gets hurt.”

I put down my shoes and gave him two minutes to explain before cutting him off after one. No way would I get involved in his illegal bullshit. I left his apartment, cursing him all the way home, but when I lost another of my jobs three days later, and my landlord refused to give me an extension on my rent, I changed my mind. It would be easy, Dominic said when we met for coffee. I’d go to a bar and have a drink. When someone Dominic had preidentified as the owner of an expensive car walked in, I’d get a signal and distract the mark by spilling a cocktail over them. By way of apology I’d proceed to buy them drinks until they were past the point of being able to drive. Dominic, a seasoned pickpocket, would lift their car keys and, a while later, I’d send the drunken mark home in an Uber.

“By the time they’ve recovered from their hangover and notice their car has been stolen, it’ll be in a shipping container,” Dominic said. “And you get a ten percent cut.”

“Fifty,” I answered. “I want fifty. Equal partners.”

Dominic shook my hand on twenty-five before taking me back to his place again. I’d known what we were doing was bad, but reasoned the only victim was the insurance company. Not a watertight argument—I knew that, too—but I was desperate, and the prospect of having to crawl home to my mother and father was a lot worse by far.