This interior battle ensues every minute of every hour. I breathe in deeply, smiling as the flowery scent of fabric softener rises from my chef’s uniform. I’m headed downstairs, eager to start the day.
At the bottom of the stairs, Deanna is waiting.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she says. Her smile gives me mixed feelings because her eyes are cold. “How are you settling in?”
“Good morning,” I reply. “Great, thank you. It takes a while getting used to the whole vibe, but most of my work is in the kitchen, which is also my happy place, so I’m good.”
“I can tell.”
I give her a confused smile. “You can tell what?”
“That the kitchen is your happy place,” Deanna says judgmentally while looking me up and down.
I don’t usually respond to remarks about my body. I’ve dealt with bullies of all shapes and sizes my whole life, and I’ve never let them stop me from experiencing happiness and fulfillment until I met Jeremy, that is. I dropped my guard with him, but I swore to myself that I’d never let that happen again.
I know Deanna is just trying to get a reaction out of me, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction. Instead, I look her dead in the eye and say, “Whatever floats your boat, Deanna,” I say. “So tell me, how did you get into this line of work?”
“This line of work?” She raises an eyebrow, eager to pick a fight.
She’s just like I thought: frustrated, small-minded, the kind of person who takes their crap out on anyone who happens to cross their path and is in any way successful. She’s beautiful, I’ll give her that, gorgeous, even, but intense. In fact, she’s so intense, she vibrates like she’s plugged in. But deep down, I know there’s a wounded little girl, still lashing out.
“How did you come to work at Haus of Sin?” I calmly ask. “Have you always wanted to do this?”
“I had other plans, but life is fluid, and I happen to be very good at what I do here.”
“Whatdoyou do, exactly?” I question, my tongue sharper than ever. “You’re a hostess, right? You’re assigned a guest, you show them around, you cater to their needs, particularly in the bedroom, right?”
“It’s more complex than that. Oversimplifying it in such a way makes it sound obscene.”
“But that’s what you do, isn’t it?”
Deanna’s luscious red lips stretch into a cruel grin. “I have a body and a personality that men deeply desire. When I give an order, they obey. When I move, they follow me like puppy dogs.” She pointed to me with one manicured finger. “Someone like you could never understand the power I have. My guess is you’ve always had to settle for somebody else’s sloppy seconds, or worse, some chubby chaser who had no intention of ever making you a part of his life.”
Deanna’s anger surprises me. She has more venom in her than I thought. I swallow a mixture of anger and tears, working hard to keep a straight face as I raise my chin in defiance.
“Your guess is wrong,” I say. “But I do understand and appreciate the power you hold over men. I admire it, actually. What Idon’tlike is that you use that power as an excuse to feel superior to women who don’t look like you. It’s the mark of an ignorant, arrogant, self-conscious woman, and it makes you ugly as hell.”
With that, I walk away.
Evening settlesover this part of Silver Star Mountain with a pitch-black sky sprinkled with stars. Lights flicker alongthe estate’s main walkway, then stretch around the property, their glow amplified by the thick layer of snow still covering almost everything in sight. It’s eerily beautiful when admired from a window in the comfort of a warm room.
I’m nervous, watching as the limos and shiny black SUVs pull up outside the estate’s main entrance. Five vehicles, each carrying precious, high-paying cargo. I know them all from the list Alex provided.
“And so it begins,” Max chuckles softly behind me.
I give him a quick glance, briefly mesmerized by how good he looks in the custom-tailored black suit with an emerald-green bow tie that brings out the green in his eyes. His hair is combed and slicked back. His smile slices into my very core without a shred of mercy.
“I was just curious,” I reply. “Matty’s getting the plates warmed as we speak.”
“I’m not worried. I just popped by to say hello.”
He steps closer. We’re nestled by the window on the left side of the lobby, with a great view of the front steps. “Ah, here they come,” he mutters, watching them like a hawk.
Alex is outside, elegantly clad in a dark grey suit. Steam rolls from his lips as he greets the incoming guests, and I take a moment to admire his massive frame. The man would look good in anything, even a burlap sack.
“That’s Genevieve Madison of the New York Madisons,” I say, recognizing the first guest, “CEO and heiress, if I remember correctly.”
“That is correct,” Max replies.
