Peasants and Kings

by Emma Slate

  We’d all meet individually with Genevieve and tell her about the night and make a note of whether or not we wished to see that client again. It was a way for The Rex to keep tabs on clients without them realizing they were being intently monitored.

  For any psychological upheaval, we would speak to Annika.

  But Gen and Annika were the only two people we were allowed to discuss details with. Everyone else was off limits. Even the girls.

  “Did you guys have a good night?”

  They both nodded. Tiffany appeared like she wanted to say more, but she held her tongue and went back to eating a strawberry on her plate.

  “I need coffee and food.” I stood, and as I approached the buffet area and grabbed a chocolate croissant and some fruit, my mind wandered back to Hadrian.

  It had felt like regret when I walked away from him.

  Chapter Eleven

  The flight back to Dallas was quick and quiet. Most of the girls dozed, including Tiffany, who slept with a pink sleep mask over her eyes and a pair of noise canceling headphones.

  When the private jet rolled to a stop on the tarmac, Genevieve stood up and said, “Well done, ladies. The event was a success, and we’ve been invited back for Elijah Padgett’s spring party. Before you leave for the day, please check in with Annika. She will hand out your necklace replacements.” Her eyes locked on mine. “Eden, I’d like to see you in my office when you get back to The Rex.”

  I nodded, feeling my heart kick up in trepidation.

  We got off the plane and slid into waiting town cars that drove us to The Rex. Because many of the girls were in some version of lingerie, we used the service entrance and took a private elevator to The Fifteenth Floor.

  Annika was standing at her desk with black jewelry boxes labeled with Post-it notes.

  One by one, the girls grabbed their boxes and then went to their rooms on the floor, no doubt to shower and clean up before leaving to enjoy their free day. Some looked like all they wanted was an empty bed to crash in for a few hours.

  I hung back and waited until I was the only girl left. Annika handed me my jewelry box and said, “I’m here if you want to talk after you chat with Gen.”

  I nodded and then went to Genevieve’s office door. When I knocked, I was told to enter.

  Genevieve looked surprisingly well rested despite the fact that she’d been awake all night, overseeing the girls and making sure to be available if there had been any problems.

  Then again, she hadn’t spent any time in a client’s bed, so she was one step ahead.

  “Something to drink?” she asked, not rising from her leather couch.

  “No thanks,” I said, sinking into the comfortable leather chair.

  Genevieve kicked off her heels and tucked her legs underneath her, all of a sudden looking much younger than she appeared.

  “So,” she began, her gaze direct. “How was your night with Hadrian?”

  “Fine.”

  She peered at me. “You’re allowed to be more forthcoming than that with me, you know.”

  “I know.” I smiled slightly. “I just don’t want to be.”

  She paused for a moment and then said, “I had my doubts about you, but I’m glad to see that you’ve proven me wrong. I think you’ll do very well as a Rex girl.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured.

  “The training program will begin in a few days. As it stands, you now live at The Rex. When you complete the training period, you will be able to live off premises if you decide you want to, but many of our Elite girls choose to live here. They travel a lot and don’t want to rent an apartment or buy a condo. Besides, if you live at The Rex, room and maid service are complimentary. As promised, a new identity will be created for you. Your current residence—do you have roommates? Or do you live alone?”

  “I’ve been staying with Tiffany. Everything I own is at her place.”

  “Fine. We’ll get you a completely new wardrobe, but more importantly is there anything you want to keep from your old life? Photo albums? Yearbooks? Anything?”

  The only thing of value I had was the letter from my mother, which was at Tiffany’s condo.

  “No. I don’t have anything I want to keep.”

  She stared at me for a long moment. I wondered if she’d ask me why I wasn’t sentimental, or worse, why there was nothing to be sentimental about.

  “Good, that will make it easier to kill the old you. We have your car, and we’ll take care of it from here. You’ll be guided through the process of adopting your new identity during the training period.”

  “Thanks.” I headed for the door.

  “Oh, Eden? Welcome to The Fifteenth Floor.”

  I went to my room and slid out of my crystal slippers. I took off the dress and put on a bathrobe. After examining the garment, I placed it on a hanger and hung it on the hook outside my hotel door, along with the shoes.

  Then I showered off the remains of the previous night, trying to wash away Hadrian. But he refused to be banished from my mind. When I closed my eyes and let the water spray me, I pictured his body moving over mine.

  A quiver of desire shot between my thighs.

  But then I remembered the phone call I’d overheard.

  He was dangerous. Involved in something dark. But with me, he hadn’t shown any of that. Yes, he’d been demanding and rough, but he hadn’t hurt me.

  I got out of the shower and grabbed a fluffy white towel to dry off and then quickly dried my hair before heading to the bedroom.

  The black jewelry box was propped open, resting on the nightstand. The key within appeared different in the light of day. It looked like any other piece of expensive jewelry, yet it was a symbol of my newfound power over the direction of my life.

  I needed to talk to someone about my night. About Hadrian. About how I was feeling—and that shame and guilt weren’t part of it. I briefly wondered if there was something inherently wrong with me.

  Why wasn’t I ashamed? Shouldn’t I have been ashamed? This was what Tiffany had been trying to tell me. There was no reason for shame.

  I didn’t want to confide in Annika. She didn’t know me, and even though she was a trained psychologist, I didn’t want to be another case she studied.

  My new cell phone was still on the coffee table in the living room. I called Tiffany.

  “Hello?” she asked groggily.

  “Sorry, were you asleep?”

  “Almost. What’s up?”

  “Can we talk? I need someone to—”

  “Give me five minutes, I’ll come to your suite. Order coffee, I’m dying.”

  I let out a laugh. “Rough night, Tiff?”

  “Rougher than yours, no doubt,” she quipped.

  Tiffany knocked a few minutes after I hung up with room service. I hadn’t bothered to change out of my robe.

  Even though Tiffany was gorgeous, she wasn’t spared from looking like she’d been up all night after being with a client.

  She was dressed in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, her damp blonde hair braided down her back. “Is it okay if I lay on your couch until the coffee arrives? I’m barely able to stand upright.”

  “Have at it,” I said. “Is that why you didn’t bother heading back to your condo?”

  “Yup. Besides, I don’t know what the hotel mattresses are made of, but there’s something magical about them.” She dropped onto the couch and spread out like she owned it.

  “How was it?” she asked softly. “Really?”

  “I thought we weren’t allowed to talk about it,” I evaded, despite wanting to tell her everything.

  “You’re allowed to talk about your feelings. No one has to know any details. Whatever you say stays between us.”

  “I know.” I smiled. “That’s why I called you.”

  “Talk fast,” she commanded. “I’m exhausted. I doubt I’ll even make it until they bring coffee. After I nap, I plan on taking a steam and getting a massage.”

  “That sounds like h
eaven,” I admitted. I paused and then confessed, “I enjoyed myself.”

  Her aquamarine eyes turned bright with interest. “That’s great. Really.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It wasn’t—he wasn’t—what I was expecting. In a good way.”

  “Clearly. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you got good and fucked.”

  “Tiffany.” I laughed.

  She giggled. “Well, it’s true. You look relaxed.”

  “Is it weird that I don’t feel ashamed?” I asked her. “I mean, aren’t I supposed to feel that way?”

  “Says who? Society? Prudes?”

  “Yeah.” I frowned. “I guess I’m just trying to rationalize not feeling how I thought I was going to feel.”

  “Odd, isn’t it?”

  “Very,” I agreed.

  We fell into silence for a moment and then she asked, “Anything else you’re trying to wrap your mind around?”

  “I liked him.”

  “And you wouldn’t mind seeing him again?” she guessed.

  I nodded eagerly.

  “Let me give you a piece of advice. Don’t see him again. Even if he asks for you, say no. He was your first client. And I’m guessing he was good in bed based on how slow you’re walking. You like him. You enjoyed him. Let it be that and nothing more. If you see him again, it will get complicated. Trust me.”

  “Did this happen to you?” I asked.

  “It happens to most girls early on,” she said slowly. “If you want to do this job long enough to make it through your first year and keep your new identity, don’t see him again. Don’t even put yourself in a position to get attached.”

  I nodded. “Yes. You’re right. Absolutely, one hundred percent.”

  “Say it again.”

  “What?”

  “That I’m right.”

  I rolled my eyes. There was a knock on the door, and I went to answer it. It was room service with our coffee and a light snack. I’d only picked at the food I’d eaten during my morning at The Mansion with the girls, and my stomach rumbled with hunger.

  I tried to take the tray from the room service waiter, but he insisted on bringing it into the room as a matter of professionalism. He turned and then closed the door on his way out. I spun back to Tiffany; her eyes were shut, and she looked dead to the world.

  With a sigh, I took the room service tray to the bedroom. I slid into a pair of comfortable pajamas and then ate the fruit on the tray.

  After I finished, I climbed into bed and pulled up the covers to my chin. Before I knew it, I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  After we’d woken from our naps, Tiffany bailed on her massage and steam idea and we headed back to her condo. I needed to grab my suitcase and the few meager belongings I had left at her place.

  “You sure you don’t want to go out with me and some of the other girls tonight?” Tiffany asked.

  I shook my head and set my new cell on the kitchen counter. “I’m not a night person. Besides, I’m still kind of groggy even though I slept most of the day.”

  “You know,” Tiffany began. “When you’re done with the training period, you should just move in here.”

  “And be your roommate?” I asked with a smile. “That’s really sweet of you. You sure you want a roommate?” When Tiffany didn’t reply, I lost my smile. “What?”

  “I’m flying to London this week.”

  “Okay,” I said with a frown. “Client?”

  Tiffany paused. “I have a job interview. At The Rex in London.”

  “An interview in London? That means you’re—you’re leaving Dallas?”

  “Maybe. Probably.” She shrugged. “There’s an opening to work on The Fifteenth Floor at The London Rex. I’ve always wanted to see London.”

  “I—God, I don’t know what to say.”

  “These opportunities don’t come along often, and I have to—”

  I shook my head. “No. Of course, you have to go. Were you waiting to tell me?”

  She shrugged. “It’s been in the works for a while. I told Gen I’d love to move there if there was ever an opening.”

  “Well, yeah. You have to make headway while you can. I get that. I do.” I looked around her gorgeous condo. “You’d let me live here, in the home you worked your ass off for? Why are you so good to me?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Good to you? I just need someone to make sure my plants don’t die.”

  I let out a strangled laugh. “You don’t have any plants.”

  “See? You could get some. Make this place homier.” She bit her lip in concern. “You’re not mad? I mean, with everything you’re dealing with, I could stay. I should stay.”

  I shook my head adamantly. “No. You need to live your life, Tiff. You’ve already done so much for me.”

  She paused, looking at me thoughtfully. “Did you ever think—well, this is where life would take us?”

  “Not in a million years.”

  “Promise me we’ll always be friends. Promise me that we’ll always remind each other of where we started and what we’ve overcome.”

  “Why do you want to remember all of that?” I asked quietly. “I’m trying to forget it.”

  There wasn’t anything more to say after that—what could she say? She was aware of my situation. She knew what had brought me to her doorstep and into the world of The Rex.

  I brushed past her and headed to the guest room to gather my belongings.

  “Sterling,” she said.

  “Eden,” I corrected, looking at her over my shoulder. “My name is Eden.”

  She stared at me for a long moment and then nodded.

  I went into the guest room and began to pack up the few clothes I’d brought with me to get them out of Tiffany’s apartment.

  There was a knock on the bedroom door and a moment later Tiffany came in, dressed and ready for a night out.

  “You look great,” I said. Her hair was in a loose side braid and her black satin tank emphasized her toned arms.

  “Thanks. Are you really sure I can’t convince you to come out? I’m worried you’ll sit here and stew all night.”

  “I won’t stew. I’ll ponder—and besides, I want to get back to The Rex. Gotta rest up for that training program.”

  “Has she told you what the training even entails?”

  “Not yet.”

  “They get you on an exercise regimen and a meal plan. They outfit you for your wardrobe. They teach you tea service and how to navigate events.”

  “So, like charm and beauty school for courtesans?” I asked with an impish smile.

  “Something like that. It’s not hard. You won’t work again until you finish the training program. They want to get you into a routine and check in on your well-being. Which is partly why they want you at The Rex in a suite.”

  “That makes a lot of sense.”

  “During training, you also talk to Annika three times a week.”

  “Are you kidding me? I have to bare my soul to a shrink?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “I imagine you could sit in silence three times a week, but they want to make sure your body and your mind are equipped to handle this very unusual lifestyle. They don’t need girls going off the rails or developing addictions.”

  “When I met Annika, she made it seem like I had a choice in whether or not I spoke to her.”

  “She was planting the idea in your head early so you felt comfortable, but no, you don’t have a choice.”

  “I feel like I’ve been expertly outmaneuvered,” I muttered. “I hate the idea of mandatory check-ins with her.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I still check in with her once a week,” Tiffany said.

  Her phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans. She pulled it out and looked at the screen. “Julia is here with her driver. I’ll see you later. Dinner, before I fly to London?”

  “Absolutely.”

  In an uncommon show of physical affection, I hugged
her. “Thanks. For…well, being you.”

  She squeezed me back and then quickly left the apartment. When I heard the front door shut, I looked back at my suitcase, which was now zipped closed. I had no reason to linger.

  I went to the bedside table and opened the drawer. The letter from my mother was folded, but I didn’t need to read the delicate scroll of her handwriting to know its contents. I had it perfectly memorized after reading it for a year straight.

  The letter was dangerous. Not only did it give away every piece of truth about my parentage and ancestry, but it was a physical link to my mother.

  From the moment I got the phone call that she’d passed and the date and time of the funeral, I felt like I was living someone else’s life. It was like I was watching myself from above with a weird sort of detachment.

  I’d been running from a faceless enemy for a year. The Foscari, though a very real threat, hadn’t presented themselves to me. They hadn’t showed up on my doorstep. I hadn’t come face to face with the horrors of them.

  I took the letter and went into the kitchen. I turned on a stove burner and set the paper on fire. As it burned, I dropped it into the sink. Only when it was a pile of ashes did I run water over it, letting it wash down the drain.

  I’d never forget her words. I’d never forget the smudged ink from the tears my mother had shed while writing the letter. I didn’t need a physical reminder of my past life because somewhere, in the back of my mind I was already worried that my past wasn’t going to remain in the past, no matter how much I tried to keep it there.

  The next morning, I woke up in my hotel suite at The Rex. It took me a moment to process where I was—I’d been bouncing around so much it was hard to feel settled.

  Autumn sunlight streamed through the curtains I hadn’t bothered closing the night before. I’d wanted to wake up with the sun. I looked at the alarm clock. It was just past seven. I got up and showered and was just about to call room service for breakfast when my work cell phone buzzed with an incoming text.

  Genevieve: Meet me in my office in an hour.

  I sent back a confirmation text and then ordered breakfast. There were a few items of clothing in my closet, and I was able to piece together a decent outfit. I wore the black ballet flats Tiffany had called out for.