Page 95 of The Gilded Survivor

So unlike the friendly man who’d met me at sunrise. I continued to stare at him, thinking about what he’d said about me being mesmerizing. Could that possibly be true?

It wasn’t until the car stopped he turned to look at me. I blushed and looked away. The skin around his lips was still tight, but at least he didn’t seem ready to bark orders.

“Ready?” he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

I shook my head a fraction of an inch as his door opened. He huffed a laugh and cold, salty air poured inside the car as he exited from the right-side. It took effort not to think about how much closer to the beach we’d gotten. I pulled the thick fur shawl tightly around my body, gripped the gilded fan in my palm, and waited for the chofer to come collect me from my designated location. My dress had a train, which was nearly thirty centimeters of ruffled gold fabric. It was tight in the leg area, making it very hard to walk gracefully. The top was cut in a sweetheart neckline, and the gossamer gold sleeves elegantly slid off my thick shoulders.

The gown was all glamor and very little practicality. At least I could move around in the dancing dresses I used with Las Patrias.

The door opened up, and a gloved hand appeared along with dozens of flashes in rapid succession, making my eyes burn. I looked up, not to see the chofer, nor Javier, but Antonio. He was smiling in a way that I rarely saw. It was careful, practiced for the cameras, and utterly charming.

Butterflies stirred in my stomach, and I tried to staunch them instantly. Flirtation with Antonio was a serious misjudgment.

I gingerly took his hand, and carefully balanced myself on the stiletto heels slung onto my feet with shiny straps as I exited the car.

Murmurs from the crowd took over as I plastered on my smile—one that had been carefully practiced in the mirror dozens of times.

I leaned into Antonio, and he looked down at me in a way that accentuated his angular cheekbones.

“Will they ask us questions?” I asked quickly, suddenly feeling unsure of everything I’d learned in the last month.

Antonio spoke like he was telling a joke. “No, not here. They will reserve most of the personal questions for your public relations director. They don’t want to speak to you again until after the interviews happen with the Canciller.”

My stomach dropped at the thought, and I nearly stumbled across the carpeted walkway.

Antonio’s hand slid around my waist and my stomach flipped over itself. “Careful now. We can’t have anyone thinking your pretty smile is fake.”

I burst out laughing, and my mentor looked as surprised by the sound as I was. His hand returned to his own side, though he adjusted himself to match my walking pace perfectly. I grinned at him as we walked. My high heels made me a little taller than Antonio, but he didn’t make any comments.

The cameras continued to flash as we were ushered by two servants into the house.

As soon as the door closed behind us, the world quieted down. It wasn’t particularly loud outside, but it had been overwhelming.

“Este lado,” one of the male servants said as he guided us from the receiving hallway at the entrance to the room where we would be served drinks before dinner.

My insides tightened and twisted, and I felt sweaty all over, despite the plunging temperatures. I clenched my fan, and tried to adjust the fur around me so that it did a better job of keeping me warm without making me appear like I was clutching the garment for dear life.

The room was stuffed to the brim. There were at least forty other people here with us today, and I had memorized their names and faces before coming. Staring at someone’s picture was one thing, but looking them right in their eyes, seeing the subtle flicks and flutters of fans, answering their questions and pretending like I was Élite felt like walking straight into a volcano.

Most of the parents were youthful. Almost suspiciously so. Did these people have babies as soon as they were married?

Instead of immediately turning around and leaving, I held my breath and smiled.

“Buenas noches,” I said with a nod.

The entire room nodded and repeated it back to me. There were no overt messages passed to me with those colorful, sometimes feathery flaps.

To be fair, however, I wasn’t skillfully versed in inanimate linguistics.

Santiago was standing with his parents near an elegant cart filled with crystal bottles of alcohol. I smiled at him, and he returned the gesture as we walked closer.

You always greet the hosts first. Then everyone else. If you miss even one person, they will take it personally, and that’s a problem.

Ana’s voice flooded my mind as I dipped down as far as my dress would allow. “Buenas noches, Señor Flores y Señora Jimenez. Gracias por invitarme a su hermosa casa,” I demurred, while looking up at them through my lashes.

Demure, elegant, ascended.

Señora Jimenez smiled as she looked at me. Despite her son’s cold, aloof demeanor, she was as warm and bright as a sunflower. Her teeth were straight white pearls, and she wore a gown that looked like white blossoms had been stitched together to create a skirt of delicate flower petals.

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