FUCK.
The plank cracked under my boot. My violin case went flying as I dropped straight through the porch. I pitched forward, throwing out my hand to catch myself before I face-planted into the door.
How I managed to look graceful on stage when I was such a klutz in real life was one of life’s great mysteries, like the fact there existed people who enjoyed black jelly beans.
I winced as I looked down at my leg buried in the porch nearly up to my upper thigh. My foot dangled free in the darkness below, and for a brief moment I imagined all the rats and critters that might be down there, and a shudder ran through me. A stinging bite along my calf told me I’d scraped off a ton of skin on the jagged edges of the rotting wood.
Dickweasels. So much for a great first impression.
I struggled to free my leg, but I didn’t quite have the upper body strength to push myself up. I glanced behind me, hoping Harrison was still around, but he’d driven the limo off somewhere. I threw my head back, ready to yell for help.
A long velvet rope dangled down the side of the door, extending up into the heavens. I wriggled and bopped and scraped and eventually managed to wrap my fingers around the knot on the end. I gave it a sharp tug, half expecting it to bring the roof caving in on top of me. Instead, a deep gong sounded from within the house.
The door flung open. On the threshold stood the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
Honey-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in tight, silken ringlets. It must take her hours every morning to get her hair to behave like that, framing her Californian good looks – tanned skin, eyes like the Pacific Ocean, a nose that was just made for looking down on the plebs. Soft, bow-shaped lips curled back into a smile that was anything but friendly.
“Hi.” I waved sheepishly from my hole. “My name is Faye de Winter. I’m a new student here, and I seem to be having a disagreement with the porch. Could you give me a hand or get Harrison or something—”
“You can’t come in here.”
Her voice dripped like honey off a spoon, sweet and summery. She sounded like she was singing as she spoke. But beneath all that saccharine sweetness was a stinger that would cause serious damage if I crossed her. Apparently, just my existence was enough to bring out this girl’s claws.
I shrugged, as if it were no big deal, as if I got stuck in porches every day. “I told you, I’m a student here, so—”
“See this?” She stepped backwards, gesturing to the grand stone arch, polished wood paneling and antique sideboard in the hall behind her. “Allthisis for the students who can actuallyaffordtuition. You may be sitting in on our classes, but you’re not one of us. You’re aservant. Use the servant’s entrance.”
“But—”
She slammed the door in my face.
Chapter Three
Faye
Bitch.
Twatface.
Cockpoodle.
I glared at the door, screaming my most imaginative insults inside my head.
Guess I’m on my own.Fine. Whatever. I’d been on my own for a long time. De Winter women looked after ourselves. I worked two jobs, graduated high school with a 3.8 GPAandaced my Sibelius piece for violin exams, all while managing my mother’s money and dealing with her useless board of directors and being by her bedside every chance I got. I’d done all that, so I could pull myself out of this fucking porch.
I grabbed the velvet rope again. The dong sounded inside the house, but I figured no one was coming. I leaned back against the rope, sitting as much as I could on the porch and bracing my other leg against the door as I hauled myself up.
Dooooooong.
The gong continued to ring as hand-over-hand I hauled myself out. Sweat dripped down my face. Finally, my leg flew free, and I bounced onto the porch in one piece.
Mostlyin one piece. A jagged cut opened down the side of my jeans, enough so I could see the long scrape and dribble of blood. I rubbed off the dirt and spiderwebs as much as I could, but there was nothing I could do about my ruined outfit until I got inside.
Guess I’d better find the servant’s entrance.
I picked up my violin case and hobbled around the side of the house, my leg stinging. The blood boiled beneath my skin. That blonde girl didn’t even give me a second to explain myself. She could see I needed help, and she’d slammed the door in my face. Now I had to go inside and serve her food and clean up after her.
I guess I have to get used to being talked to like that.
