Page 23 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

Jessica manages a small smile in response before she makes her way toward the Victorian couch in front of the coffee table, adorned with a delicate tea service. She shakes her head as she sits, still boggled by all she wasn’t expecting. Beatrice sits on the opposite end of the sofa, crossing her ankles as she rests her folded hands on her knees. Jessica tries not to fidget, sitting up straight and reminding herself to breathe.

What seems like a long moment of silence stretches between them. Each second that ticks by makes it more difficult for Jessica to sit still, but she reminds herself to remain calm. Nevertheless, she finds it impossible to keep her gaze locked with Beatrice’s intense stare.

Finally, the silence is broken when the madam simply inquires, “Why are you here?”

Sitting a little taller, Jessica admits, “I need a job.”

A small laugh causes a rueful smile to play at Beatrice’s lips. In the strangest way, Jessica doesn’t feel patronized when Beatrice replies, “This, my dear, is not a job. What you give is not something you can ever get back. The exchange is not even within the same realm of equivalent currency. So, I ask you once more, why are you here?”

All at once, Jessica feels herself relax a little as the actuality of Stefano’sQueen Beamanifests completely in front of her. This time, she finds the confidence to admit, “I need the money.”

Beatrice tilts her head, studying Jessica more intently, and then says, “Try just once more.”

Intrinsically aware she does not know what Beatrice expects her to say, and afraid she’s on the verge of losing her opportunity to do what she has been preparing her mind to do for the last several days, her posture falls. Certain she has nothing more to lose, she decides to tell the truth.

“My mother is ill. She can’t work, and my attempts to care for her are not enough. I need this.” Dropping her gaze into her lap, Jessica stares at her fingers as she fidgets and goes on to say, “I need the money, and I don’t care what it costs me. It’s for my mother. I would do anything for her.”

Beatrice doesn’t respond immediately but takes a moment to consider Jessica’s answer. When she draws in a sharp breath, Jessica peeks up at the elegant woman from beneath her lashes.

“Very well,” she says, matter-of-factly. “I have three rules.Une: When you are called upon, you show up as expected. If, for whatever reason, you cannot, you will be subject to probation for a month.Deux:my clients pay a great sum in order to keep their visits completely confidential. You are not to do anything that would sabotage that trust.Trios:So long as you are within the confines of these walls, you belong to me—and I take great care of what is mine. If any man so much as threatens to harm you in any way, I want to know about it. I do not condone harassment of any kind, and I am against violence, unless it is consensual and ends in two orgasms.At least. Are we clear?”

The small bit of relaxation Jessica latched onto only a minute before vanishes as her stomach turns at the mention ofviolence. Her spine straightens as she lets the substantiality of the situation sink in. While Beatrice obviously cares about the safety of herwomen, Jessica would be lying if she said the thought of even the possibility of physical harm had crossed her mind. There are so many other scenarios she’s still trying desperately to wrap her head around.

She forces a swallow, sealing her eyes shut tight for a second. Shaking her head once, she reminds herself there is no other way.

Two nights. It’s only two nights.

Prying her eyes open, she forces herself to meet Beatrice’s inquisitive stare as she finally responds, “We’re clear.”

“Good.”

Promptly, and with more grace than seems possible, the madam stands to her feet and glides her way toward the door. Jessica looks from the recently vacated spot on the couch to the door twice, wondering if she, too, should follow in her footsteps. By the time she makes up her mind and lifts herself from her seat, she sees Beatrice is engaged in a hushed conversation with Stefano. She decides not to move but to wait for a summoning, all the while watching the exchange, straining to hear what is said between them.

“Draw up the NDA, the appropriate waver, and her pay contract,” she hears Beatrice instruct. Stefano replies with what Jessica assumes is an affirmative, then murmurs something she can’t quite catch. She watches closely as Beatrice clasps her hands together behind her back, inclining her head slightly as she tells Stefano, “Proceed.”

He chances a look in at Jessica, her only clue that he seems nervous for some reason, and then refocuses all of his attention on Beatrice. This time, Jessica manages to hear him as he suggests, “I recommend we offer her to Mr. Morgan. After the mix-up a couple weeks ago, I believe he would appreciate the gesture. I also think we can increase his usual fee by informing him he’ll be the first client to touch her.”

Jessica’s stomach turns, knowingshe’sthe piece of property Stefano is referring to—as if she’s nothing more than a shiny new toy. Swallowing hard, she presses both of her hands against her belly, willing herself to suck it up. As she pulls in a cleansing breath, she remembers Stefano is her best friend; moreover, he knows the men who frequent this place better than anyone. He wouldn’t suggest something if he didn’t think it worth the effort. She also reminds herself she’s not in some cheap hotel in a shady part of town, and Beatrice isn’t a classless pimp.

Jessica is coaxed from her own thoughts as the woman hums her approval. She then goes on to say, “Arrange it. Prichard has had his fair share of first nights. Besides, the last time he got a new piece from my collection, he demanded a twenty-five percent return as she was a blubbering mess by the end of the night. But this one…” Beatrice taps an inquisitive finger against her painted red lips as she pauses. “When you propose the pairing, increase his rate by fifty percent.” She turns, as if to address Jessica, and then changes her mind. Lifting a finger thoughtfully, she looks to Stefano once more and adds, “For both nights. I have no doubt he’ll wish to indulge to the full extent of his limits.”

Jessica looks between Beatrice and Stefano, certain more has been exchanged between them than she can understand. She wonders what it was the madam was going to say before her voice trailed off.

What is it about me she’s so sure of?

Who is Mr. Morgan? Or Prichard?

God—am I really going to do this?

“Yes, madam,” Stefano agrees, breaking through her thoughts.

She dips her chin affirmatively and then turns again toward Jessica. “Come, my dear. It is time we make this official.”

Jessica wastes no time walking toward them, curious as to what happens next. She need not ask as Beatrice places a hand on her back and gently guides her into the hallway. Stefano smiles at her, taking hold of her waist as he begins to lead her down the long corridor.

They don’t get far before Beatrice insists, “Make sure Evelyn is the one to style her.”

“Of course,” says Stefano from over his shoulder.

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