Page 9 of Knot for Sale

Jessica raised a perfectly plucked brow at me as she checked her Venmo balance. “So, not out of a job, then?”

“Apparently not,” I agreed. “It’s kind of a strange gig, but it pays better than anything I’ve had since I moved to the States. Also, y’know,Greece.”

I doubtedThe Secret Boudoirwould have much trouble filling out their roster of hopefuls. I’d been in the business long enough that the lure of exotic locales and rich men should have worn off by now, but even I was a little bit excited about the prospect of a superyacht cruising the Greek Isles. Some poor waif with stars in her eyes and an inferiority complex would be completely taken in by the glamorous bauble they were dangling in front of us like a carrot.

“You know anyone else who’s going?” Jessica asked.

“I’m not sure. I think they’re still recruiting.” I frowned at a loose thread on the sleeve of my white leather jacket, already mentally running through the contents of my closet as I tried to decide what would be appropriate to take. “They didn’t give me a list of names or anything.”

“Well, be careful.” Jessica frowned, slipping her phone back in her jeans pocket. “I don’t have to tell you that the whole thing sounds fishy.”

I snorted. “For twelve grand, they c-can use me as a sushi model if it floats their boat. I mean... if it floats theiryacht.”

“Wait, who’s becoming a sushi model?” Elijah asked as he walked into the kitchen. “Because that sounds, like,superunhygienic.”

“I’m not becoming a sushi model,” I said patiently.

“Tell Emma that she’s walking into a situation that’s deeply suss,” Jessica said. “I’d repeat myself, but she’s clearly not listening to me. Also, I have a date at nine.”

“I know it’s suss,” I told her. “I just don’t care because it’s also my temporary ticket out of poverty. I’ll be careful, Jess. Have fun tonight. Tell Dee I said hello.”

“I will,” she promised. “I’ll even try to do the posh accent for her.”

My mouth opened in outrage. “My accent is notposh! How very dare you?”

“If you say so.” She smiled at me, patting her phone in her back pocket. “Thanks for the cash, babe.”

Elijah murmured a distracted goodbye as she strode out of the kitchen, her narrow hips swinging. Then he turned his green eyes toward me. “You got a gig? A ‘suss’ one? I thought you were worried the agency was going to dump you.”

With a sigh, I flopped down at the table and opened the plastic container of salad I’d picked up on my way home from running errands. Errands that I could now afford to do.

“The Secret Boudoiris auditioning models for their Spring Collection. And for some reason, they’ve decided to do it on a superyacht full of rich people who will be partying off the coast of Greece.” I stabbed a disposable bamboo fork into the slightly soggy lettuce.

“And they’re paying loads of cash up front for this ‘audition’?” Elijah sounded understandably skeptical.

I shrugged a shoulder, chewing.

“You do know what this really is, right?” he asked.

Apparently, he wasn’t going to let this go.

I swallowed limp green leaves and Caesar dressing, wiping the back of my hand across my lips. “Yes, I know what an image modeling gig looks like, Elijah. I also know what an empty bank account looks like.”

“And you’re okay with that?” he asked cautiously. “Glorified escort work?”

“I don’t know howglorifiedit is,” I replied in a wry tone. Then I sobered. “No offense, but you don’t really know that much about me. It’s true, this isn’t how I’d pictured my career in New York going. But if they’re working through the agencies, then TSB reallywillbe recruiting models on that yacht, not just arm candy. I intend to get one of those contracts.”

I emphasized this with a stab of the fork.

He didn’t look reassured. “I really wish you wouldn’t do this, Em.”

The words were quiet, but they pricked my temper, nonetheless.

“It’s not really your c-call, is it?” I shot back, murdering another chunk of baby romaine with a vicious poke of bamboo tines.

No, it’s not,” he agreed, not rising to meet my tone. “But I bet if I came home spouting a story like this, you’d try to talk me out of doing it.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” I lied.

---