Her eyes softened as her fingers curled around Francesca’s. “Everything will be okay,” she promised. “I understand why you need the money, and I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”
Casanova’s warning, said in that bass voice that shook her to her core, rumbled through her mind like a thunderstorm.
If you go through with this, I can promise you that whoever wins your contract won’t give you up.
It all seemed pretty straightforward when she read the contract Maxine had so painstakingly drawn up, despite her own misgivings, and signed in front of one of Grim’s white-painted and veiled priests. She wasn’t required to do anythingat all except provide blood for thirty days to whomever won the Games.
It wasn’tnothing,obviously. She was rather attached to her blood, and there was something deeply sinister in the exchange of it for money. Perhaps it was simply the logical endpoint of the capitalist hamster wheel she’d been stuck on all her life.
But she was a practical sort of person, and one always made more blood, right? It’s not like she would miss it. Besides, thirty days was nothing compared to five years of searching.
Swallowing her misgivings and shoving the image of the pushy vampire out of her mind, she summoned her best customer service smile.
“I can do this,” she assured them both.
Maxine took a deep breath. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
Neither wanted to release each other’s hand, but it had to be done. They’d gone over how things would play out, and that required Maxine go ahead of her. She was used to talking in front of large crowds, and seeing as she knew Francesca best, she’d been tapped to give the sales pitch.
Francesca watched her slip through the door, which was strategically placed behind the temporary stage they’d erected.Theybeing Easton and his Grim acolyte business partners, who took a cut of the profits in exchange for their blessing of the Games.
Nerves threatened to swallow her whole. The desire to run was there, an itch in the back of her mind. And there it was again: Casanova’s voice, commanding her to go.
Why he thought he could barge into a woman’s room and tell her what to do, she had no idea. Why she felt momentarily compelled to actually follow his orders, she had even less. It had to be nothing but pure, blinding ego. She wished she had even a bit of his confidence.
Will he be in there?
She couldn’t help but wonder if he would live up to the swagger he’d strolled out with. Not that she wanted him to, of course. She couldn’t imagine a worse case scenario than that. Maybe before, when she thought he actuallylikedher, at least a little bit… But now Francesca knew she was nothing more than another plaything to him.
And who was he to judge her, anyway? He clearly wasn’t on the entirely legal side of things, while she was doing something that fell well within the law.
She doubted he’d really be in there. A man who moved through the world like that rarely actually lived up to the bravado.
Focus, Frankie,she scolded herself.Forget about him. You have more important things to think about.
A shudder rolled down her spine as she stared hard at the door in front of her. It was all that stood between her and the crowd, whose murmurs were loud beneath the tasteful jazz piped through the speakers. When she felt like she’d put it off long enough, she forced her fingers around the knob and slipped into the darkness that waited.
The vague shape of a dark curtain, a thin strip of light illuminating its hem, was the final barrier between herself and the consequence of her choice. Glasses clinked and from somewhere far beyond the curtain, a braying laugh erupted.
Francesca smoothed her sweaty hands down the front of her silk gown. How many times had she heard a laugh like that? It always seemed to come from the worst of men — the ones who didn’t tip or thought an insult made them somehow more appealing than a compliment.
She’d spent practically her entire life in service work, so she knew the type well enough to spot with just that singular, awful laugh.
Gods, please don’t let someone like that win,she prayed.
She tensed when the music began to slowly lower in volume. For a moment, the voices picked up, excitement and anticipation buzzing around the suddenly much quieter room, before it all went silent.
Heels clicked across the stage in front of her. A moment later, the sound of a delicate throat clearing came through the speakers.
“Welcome,” Maxine’s familiar husky voice purred. “It’s a pleasure to see so many esteemed faces for this very special occasion.”
A round of applause went up. Francesca tried to imagine how many people there might be around the stage by the noise alone, but it didn’t do her nerves any good. It sounded like there could be anything between ten to a hundred hungry vampires out there, all of them ready to pay for the privilege of a taste of her blood.
“Now,” Maxine announced with just the right amount of mystery, “tonight’s prize is unlike any we’ve had before. All of you have been specially selected for this exclusive event, which may never happen again.”
Francesca’s fingers curled into tight fists. Her heart beat fast beneath the strapless bodice of her borrowed gown. Any second now the curtain would rise and the trajectory of her life would change forever. She just hoped it’d be in a good direction.
But the space between her legs still throbbed, each pulse a reminder of Casanova’s warning — and his claim.