Page 37 of Peasants and Kings
I’d never been to Europe, but as a kid, I’d decorated my school lockers with photos of castles on rolling hills I found in old travel magazines. I’d had dreams of walking the halls of Versailles and roaming the gardens, visualizing the flamboyance of the French court in its heyday.
And even though I saw the wealth that Tiffany had been accumulating, it didn’t at all prepare me for flying on a private jet from Dallas to Austin.
I’d never been on a plane in my entire life, and my first experience definitely set the bar high.
As if being chauffeured in a Mercedes directly to a private jet with fine leather seats and elegant woodwork hadn’t been enough of a shock, The Mansion itself rendered me speechless. It was forty-five minutes from the airport in Austin. It was a tan, Spanish-style home nestled on private acreage. The structure was complete with window arches, columns, and a balcony that overlooked the front entrance, so the owner of the home could stand out and look down, like a king reigning over his subjects.
It was old-world, titanic wealth.
Hours had passed and now I was standing in the wings on the second floor of The Mansion with the other Rex girls, waiting to be announced like a nineteenth century debutant.
“You didn’t tell me we were going to have to walk down a two-tiered staircase,” I hissed at Tiffany.
Tiffany reached out and adjusted the rose gold key necklace that rested against my warm skin. “You’ll be fine. Trust me, there is no better way to make an entrance.”
“Yeah, God forbid we just walk among them like the mere mortals we are…”
“We’re not mere mortals and neither are they. You have to get used to being on display, Eden,” she said.
The previous night, after I’d memorized the faces of the women in the binder, Tiffany had given me a rundown of the explicit rules followed by a few pointers.
No drinking the night before an event.
No drinking at the event.
If a man gives you a cocktail, find a way to dump it into a plant, excuse yourself to the restroom and “conveniently” forget your drink or find some other way of disposing of it.
Your key is not to be given to anyone who places you under duress or coercion.
No boyfriends.
No discussion of past clients in any form to anyone except Genevieve, ever.
No discussion about anything you see or hear while with a client ever, to anyone, under any circumstances. These men do not exist outside the events.
No sexual relationships with anyone who is not a client.
Any event garments aside from undergarments will be returned to The Fifteenth Floor.
“You look amazing,” Tiffany said. “You should know that.”
“Thank you,” I murmured. “You look incredible too.”
She inclined her blonde head, the waves of her hair falling over her face in pure Veronica Lake fashion. Tiffany’s persona, Hazel, was announced. She threw a smile over her shoulder and said, “You can do this.”
As she walked away from our spot toward the top of the stairs, I watched her shoulders rise and her chin lift. She embodied sensuality. I was fairly certain I embodied terror.
Life or death, I reminded myself.
I took a deep, calming breath. When the butler called out the name Eden, I started forward, my ballet slippers sinking lightly into the plush red brocade carpet. As I’d been directed by Tiffany, I paused at the top of the stairs, staring out into a sea of guests.
My gaze locked on a man with stormy, blue–gray eyes. I held my breath and didn’t look away. I could easily pick him out in a room full of strangers. He wasn’t just tall—he loomed, making the others appear small. Though he was in an immaculate tuxedo that spread the breadth of his shoulders, he didn’t look like he belonged in it and I recognized who it was.
My hand reached out to rest on the ornate wood banister as I began my descent, our eyes remaining fixed on one another. The crystal chandelier in the center of the ceiling made everything twinkle in golden light. The party, the guests, the decor—it was all so civilized, so grand. Not at all the sort of place one would expect debauchery to exist.
When I stepped foot onto the marble dance floor at the bottom of the staircase, I was immediately surrounded by men in tuxedos all vying for my attention. I was too short to see over the men standing in front of me, and the stranger I’d met in The Rex Bar and Restaurant disappeared from my sight.
I looked around in a moment of panic, only to find Tiffany plagued with just as many admirers. She caught my gaze and winked, and then mouthedEden.
