My body goes cold.
Miriam bounces. “With him.”
The meaning lands like a punch.
Orpheus.
My stomach flips.
“You’ve gotta be kidding,” I say.
“I’m not,” Meg replies. “Direct order. You’re assigned to him tonight.”
I swallow. “Assigned how?”
Meg’s lips curl. “You’re his servant now.”
The word makes my skin prickle.
Servant.
Not server. Not waitress. Not staff.
Servant.
“I didn’t apply for that,” I say.
Meg shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. He asked for you. You’re his.”
The way she says it isn’t friendly. It’s not even neutral.
I glance at Miriam, hoping she’ll laugh it off or tell me there’s been a mistake.
Instead, she looks excited.
“He requested you specifically,” she whispers. “He never requests anyone.”
“That’s not comforting,” I mutter.
“It’s not bad either,” she insists. “It’s a big deal.”
Sure.
So was being cornered by a vampire in a hallway.
I force myself to breathe.
I need this job.
I can’t afford to complain. If Orpheus wants me upstairs, arguing won’t change his mind.
Still, irritation blooms in my chest, because I was determined to keep my distance.
I was determined to keep this professional, and not let him get in my head.
Now, I’m going to be stuck with him all night.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Just tell me what to do.”
