“Is your chatelaine choosy about who she’ll hire?”
“Very. Every woman brought on board is a huge upfront expense for Cora. She transforms them from head to toe, and it doesn’t stop there. Each woman who represents Inamorata must learn etiquette, be articulate, and have the ability to converse about a wide range of topics.”
Rachel is so well-spoken. I hadn’t noticed that change in her until now.
“Has any woman at Inamorata ever been hurt by a client?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but I assume that it’s happened at some point. Nature of the beast, I guess. We’re obviously at higher risk because we are alone with men whom we don’t know. That’s why we all go through a class and learn how to defend ourselves. I’m confident in my ability to fight off a client if need be.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second, even without a class.” Rachel has three older brothers. She’s a natural-born scrapper.
“You mentioned upfront costs. I assume that Cora is reimbursed for that?”
“Oh yeah. She takes 50 percent of the earnings until her investment is repaid. After that, she takes 25 percent off of the top. But we keep 100 percent of any tips or gifts from a client.”
“What’s a typical tip or gift?”
“Jewelry, designer clothes, handbags, cash. Maybe even a predetermined monthly allowance if it’s an ongoing relationship. Some of the lasses get college tuition.”
Whoa! Someone could pay for my education?
Two more semesters—that’s all I need to earn the credits that I require to graduate with my degree. Where things stand now, I’m going to have to take out a student loan to pay for tuition. Not the end of the world but I’d rather not come out of college with a mountain of debt if I can help it.
Dammit, I can’t believe that my stepmonster talked Dad into cutting me off when I’m only two semesters away from getting my degree. I was so close to living my best life. I could almost taste it.
Heidi loves to watch me bleed. She enjoys holding me down and her latest farce proves it.
God, I hate that woman. And I hate the way she manipulates my dad. Not that he ever won any father-of-the-year awards anyway. He was a deadbeat long before Heidi came along.
“Is Cora looking for more girls?”
“Possibly.”
“Do you think that she could be interested in a girl like me?”
“Absolutely. You’re already beautiful without any effort at all. I’m happy to put you in touch with her if you like.”
Let’s be brutally honest about this. What I’m contemplating is a form of prostitution, sex or not. It doesn’t matter what kind of label we put on it.
“I can see that you’re hesitant, but she’d never ask you to do anything that you didn’t want to. She’s always looking for companionship-only inamoratas: dinner and drinks and discussion. That’s it.”
I inhale deeply and blow out slowly. “All of this scares me.”
“Talking with Cora isn’t an obligation. It’s only a conversation.”
Only a conversation. It sounds so much more enticing when she puts it like that. “All right. Set it up.”
I’m standing on a platform, the wall in front of me covered with a floor-to-ceiling mirror. I feel like I should be trying on wedding dresses in a bridal boutique, waiting to say yes to the dress so that I can be jacked up with a veil and jewelry.
Cora taps the center of my back directly between my shoulder blades. “Stop slouching.”
She walks down the steps of the platform and looks up at me. “What is your European shoe size?”
“Thirty-six.”
“Valerie, bring the seventy-five-millimeter black peep toes in her size.”
Good Lord. This woman has an assistant for everything, even shoe fetching.
“We’ll begin your stride training with lower heels and work our way up to the higher ones.”
Cora is short like me, but you don’t notice until you look at her tall heels and see that four inches of her height can be attributed to her shoes.
Valerie returns and places the black pumps on the floor in front of me.
“Louboutins.” I didn’t intend for that to come out. And I definitely didn’t mean for it to sound so covetous.
“I understand. You’ve never had shoes like these, but your closet is about to be filled with countless pairs like them along with designer clothing and handbags. You represent Inamorata. You represent me. It’s crucial that you always look your best, but your job right now is to be my student. Listen to me and you’ll learn how to entertain some of the wealthiest and most influential men in Scotland.”
That’s a frightening thought.
“You aren’t at all concerned that your clients won’t like me?”
“You’re going to be a polished gem when I finish with you. No part of you will be unlikable.”
I’m pretty sure that she’s wrong about that.
“Not everyone loves Americans.” I’ve lived in Scotland for six years, but I still consider myself American—my first sixteen years were spent there.
“Inamorata clients are going to love that about you. You’re a different flavor from my other girls.”
I hear what she’s saying, but I look at myself in the mirror and can’t imagine any high-class Scotsman who would be willing to pay big bucks for my company. I’m nobody.
“What’s wrong, Caitriona?”
“I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be. I do background checks on every man before accepting him as a client. I reject anyone with even a hint of a questionable past.”
“That’s not the kind of afraid that I’m talking about.”
“Well, I need you to explain what that means before we go any further.”
It’s embarrassing to admit my fears. “What if they don’t think I’m pretty enough? Or smart enough? Or interesting enough?”
Cora claps her palms together twice, making a high-pitched slapping sound. “Everyone out. Now.”
Her three assistants scramble to get through the door, nearly running each other down. I truly believe that if Cora told them to jump, they would ask how high.
She comes up on the platform, standing behind me. She grasps my upper arms and looks over my shoulder at my reflection in the mirror. “Look at the woman staring back at you. Who is she?”
“Caitriona Louden.”
“You’re stating the obvious and it’s a waste of my time. Look deep inside of the woman in front of you, and find the wee lass beneath her surface.”
Find the wee lass beneath my surface? No way. That’s stupid.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to do that.”
“I don’t care if you want to do it or not. You’re going to if you want to work for me. The choice is yours.”
I contemplate walking out. I want to so badly, but I can’t. I need money.
“What do you want from me?”
“Start by taking a long hard look at yourself in the mirror and think about what you see.”
Long brown hair, thick and often unruly. Hazel eyes, more green than brown after I’ve had a good cry. Fair skin, a few scattered freckles across my nose and cheeks. Short and small-framed.