She could feel his eyes watching her.
Standing naked by the open door, she flicked the ash of her cigarette onto the balcony, puffing a lungful of smoke into the cool night air.
‘You know you’re not supposed to do that.’
She ignored him, watching a cruise liner slowly edge its way across the face of the Opera House, adding an entire city block to the quay.
‘There’s a lot I’m not supposed to do.’
Sliding the door further open, she leaned her head out into the breeze, listening to the sounds climbing the old brick façade of their hotel. Traffic. Conversations. Laughter. A group of late-night party people stumbling along the cobblestones. There was always something going on around here. Somewhere to go.
‘Can you close that?’ he said. ‘It’s cold out.’ She did as he asked, losing interest in her cigarette, leaving it to sizzle in a glass of water on the small table by the door.
‘Got anything to drink?’
‘Over there.’ Dmitry sat up in bed, pointing at a gift bag on the coffee table by the television. ‘Or try the minibar.’
Dmitry was always generous with Scarlett. Nice hotels. Fancy restaurants. Fine wine. Always paying her in cash. She pulled the bottle from the red cardboard bag, examining the label, a Russian-sounding name she’d never heard of before and had no chance of pronouncing.
‘What’s this?’ Scarlett said, holding up the bottle.
His chest wobbled as he laughed to himself.
‘It’s no good?’
‘No good?’ Dmitry laughed again. ‘That vodka sells for nine hundred dollars a bottle, if you can even find it here. It’s better than good.’
Scarlett cracked the seal, unscrewing the lid, pouring the liquid into the glass.
‘Want one?’ She held up the glass of vodka before taking a tiny sip, unsure about the taste but welcoming the sting in her throat. The rush of warmth.
‘Sure.’
She poured one for Dmitry, walking back towards the bed.
‘Put it there.’ He pointed at the bedside table. ‘Bathroom.’
‘I need to get going soon.’
‘No you don’t.’ Dmitry left the bathroom door open while he urinated in the bowl. ‘Stay the night.’
‘I can’t.’
He flushed the toilet and climbed back into bed, patting the sheets. ‘Come on. You know I’ll –’
‘Dmitry, I’ve got another client.’
He frowned, not liking the reminder.
‘I’m sorry.’ Scarlett smiled, trying to ignore his changed mood. ‘When will I see you again?’
‘Soon. Very soon. And next time you’ll stay the night.’
‘That would be expensive.’
‘Not a problem.’
‘One of these days you’re going to tell me exactly what you do, Dmitry,’ she said, playfully. ‘I really would like to know.’
‘I have lots of money.’ He shrugged, dismissively. ‘What else is there to know?’
Scarlett looked at her watch: 11.55 pm. She’d had only the smallest taste of vodka, but its potency was already kicking in.
Her clothes were neatly folded on the armchair by the window and she stumbled as she walked towards them, pausing to regain her balance…
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