Page 1 of Gilded in Blood

CHAPTER ONE

Milana

The cell smells like piss and regret.

“First time?”

I look up at the sound of the voice. The blonde woman is watching me, legs crossed like she’s completely at home here.

I hesitate. “Is it that obvious?”

She snorts. “You’ve checked that door more times in five minutes than I’ve checked my ex-husband’s messages in a year.”

A reluctant laugh slips out before I can stop it.

I’m still pressed into the corner of the cold concrete bench, arms wrapped around myself. It doesn’t help. The chill seeps straight through my jacket, through the thin fabric of my dress, and settles deep in my bones.

“Relax,” the brunette adds from the opposite bench, not even looking up. “You’ll be out soon enough if it’s your first time.”

I let out a breath. This is not how my night was supposed to end. A few hours ago, I’d been laughing with Sarah about finally letting loose after a brutal week of lectures and assignments. Then everything went wrong.

“What are you in for?” the brunette asks suddenly.

I glance at her. Smudged eyeliner, bored eyes, like this place is just another stop in her routine.

“I broke a bottle over a guy’s head,” I say. “He was trying to drag my friend into the bathroom at a club.”

That gets their attention.

The blonde leans forward slightly. “Good on you, love. Some men need to be taught.”

I shrug, even though my stomach tightens at the memory. “He didn’t understand no.”

No means no. It should be simple.

It wasn’t simple for him.

It still isn’t simple for people like him.

The brunette finally looks at me properly. “American?”

I nod.

“Tourist?” the blonde asks.

I manage a small, dry smile. “Student. Criminal law, actually. Irony’s not lost on me.”

I shift on the bench, trying to get comfortable, and shrug off my blazer because my legs are getting cold. I drape it over my legs.

The blonde’s eyes widen a little when she sees my dress properly. “Bloody hell, that dress is nice. Real nice. Designer?”

I glance down at the expensive fabric clinging to my skin and shrug one shoulder. “Something like that.”

She whistles low. “I’d kill for a dress like that.”

I look down at the dress again. When I'd thrown it on tonight, I hadn't thought much of it. It was just another dress. One of many hanging in my closet.

“You can only afford a dress like that in your dreams,” the brunette says, laughing.