Francesca flexed her fingers in a vain attempt to release some of the tension that bunched her muscles. There were no more audible complaints about the fee after the vials went out. Whatever levity there’d been before had also vanished, leaving the air practically humming with a tension that set her teeth on edge.
She’d always been aware, to some degree, that she was prey. But it’d never felt so much like teeth on her throat as it did then,with all the hungry eyes fixed on her beneath the glare of the spotlight.
It was with a flash of bitterness that she realized part of why she looked for Casanova was because he made her feel safe. Despite everything, his presence would’ve been a comfort.
With some silent signal, the jazz music began to fade in again. Maxine offered the crowd a blazing smile. “Now, before you make your decision on whether to enter the Games or not, I’ll be taking our darling Francesca around the room to greet each of you. After you’ve met, please see the attendant at the back of the room to sort out the details. If you don’t wish to participate, you can, of course, pay a smaller fee to attend the Games as a spectator.”
Francesca tried not to wobble as Maxine grabbed her arm and began to gently guide her across the stage, aware that she was utterly hopeless in heels. The lights dimmed just in time for her to barely be able to make out the steps that led down to the floor.
Bunching her silk gown in her sweaty fist, she did everything in her power to make it down the steps without introducing her meticulously made-up face to the deep crimson carpet.
In some ways, being off the stage was a relief. She didn’t feel quite so much like a product on display when she was on the ground with everyone else. On the other hand, she lost the invisible barrier between herself and the crowd.
Her heart hammered as she was led to one small table after another. Some had multiple people, some only had one, but no matter what, Maxine seemed to know them by name. Francesca had worked in enough shops to know a consummate sales woman when she saw one. The vampire moved between tables in an effortless dance, showing off what they could win if only they paid whatever enormous sum had been demanded. It wasa favor to her, one she knew Maxine loathed doing but one she clearly had a talent for.
It all became a mash in her mind — smudged faces and hungry eyes and uncomfortable questions she answered on autopilot.
“Do you eat well?” a man in a wrinkled white suit asked.
“I try,” she answered, thinking of her empty fridge and how every spare dollar she possessed went to saving up for yet another private investigator. Hopefully one that wouldn’t scam her this time.
A woman with terrifyingly long, crimson nails purred, “Where did you grow up, sweet?”
“In the woods,” she replied, unwilling to give them any real information that might lead anyone back to her parents. Not that they lived in Midpines anymore. Her parents had sold the house when she moved out, cutting costs wherever they could.
The clawed vampire seemed pleased despite her evasiveness. “Ah, lots of good sun and exercise then.” Giving Francesca a long, appreciative assessment, she added, “You definitely look healthy.”
Maxine hustled her to another table after that, her ruby red smile unaffected but the hand on Francesca’s back firm. Not that the next one was any better.
“Would you be open to adding a procreation clause to your contract for an extra fee?”
Francesca had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at the tattooed old man. They’d all looked at her like she was meat, buthim…He looked at her like he’d already plucked her out of the refrigerated section of the grocery store and dropped her in his cart.
“No,” she finally bit out.
Maxine had stressed to her that there was nothing in the contract that specified she had to engage with the vampire whowon the night in any sort of romantic or sexual way. There were clear protections against coercion built in, she said. There was even an entire section devoted to biting, which could not be attempted without explicit consent and at a considerable extra fee to be paid directly to Francesca. Any violation of the protection clauses would result in immediate termination of the contract at a considerable expense to the vampire.
All of this, she’d been told, was in her control. If that was true, and if she really could come out of it with as much money as she’d been promised, then she’d be able to pay off her parents’ debt, buy back the house, and have more than enough money to continue the search for Billie for years to come.
She just had to get through it, one high-heeled step at a time.
None of this matters,she reminded herself as Maxine steered her away from the awful tattooed man.
For her parents, for her sister, she could do just about anything.
Just as they rounded another eager table, a small commotion at the back of the dark room drew her attention. Francesca looked up. It was hard to see through all shadows and flickering candles and mood lighting, but there was just enough illumination to see the vague shapes of the doors at the far end of the room.
They’d been pushed open, and two men entered, one of them speaking in a hushed but desperate sort of way she recognized. It was the tone one used when dealing with an unruly customer about to make a scene.
A handful of men in servers' uniforms were posted by the door. They appeared unwilling to help as the bigger of the two men waltzed confidently past them, trailed by the other. Slowly at first, then with more speed, heads turned at every table.
Leaning in close to Maxine, she whispered, “What’s going on?”
“Oh, that’s…” The redhead trailed off, her shiny smile falling as she gazed across the room. Shifting her hand to Francesca’s arm, she urged her to do an abrupt U-turn. “Back in the dressing room, Frankie. Now.”
Dumbfounded and barely managing to stay upright, Francesca stumbled along beside her. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t worry,” Maxine replied, absolutely making her worry skyrocket. “Everything’s fine. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”