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  Visage.

  Beckham.

  Penthouse.

  Large fluffy white bed, white plush carpet, long hanging curtains in the softest green. She had an empty walk-in closet that she was sure she would never have occasion to fill, and her own bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub and a large waterfall shower.

  She had spent more than a half hour last night under the showerhead, scrubbing every inch of her body in the boiling water. She hadn’t even realized how dirty she was. It was as if she had entirely new skin. And her dark hair, which had always been dull and flat, had fallen in soft, shiny tresses down her back due to the expensive shampoo and conditioner treatment.

  But now she had to get back to reality. It was her first real day on the job. She was sure that Beckham was going to want to feed. She needed to prepare herself for when that time came…which meant breakfast. A big hearty breakfast to keep her from feeling light-headed due to the blood loss.

  She shuddered. Blood loss.

  Reyna hopped out of bed and looked around for the clothes she had left at the foot of her bed. She had gone to bed in an oversized white T-shirt she had found in one of her drawers. It had been a better alternative to getting back in her dirty clothes last night.

  But now that she was ready to face the day, she needed her old clothes. And they were nowhere to be found.

  She walked into the closet, and her mouth dropped wide open. A quarter of the space was already stocked full of clothes. Dresses upon gorgeous dresses in every color imaginable. Hanging skirts, sheer tops, slick slacks that would surely hug her figure. So many clothes. More than she could have ever dreamed of back at home. She ran her fingers over the expensive materials—satin, lace, silk—and then quickly pulled herself back. What are they doing here?

  She checked the tags and saw they were all brand new and in her size. But how does anyone know my size?

  Though the clothes were beautiful, they didn’t feel like her clothes. They felt like playing dress-up with a doll. As if someone had picked out clothes haphazardly with no care for the person in mind.

  She turned away from the display of clothing and looked through the rest of the room. Drawers were full of undergarments so small and lacy she wasn’t sure they would cover an inch of her body. She closed them hastily.

  Her closet had been empty last night. She didn’t understand how anything had gotten inside without her knowing. She didn’t like that anyone had access to her room, even though she hadn’t had one to herself in ten years. She shook her head and turned to leave when she noticed that something was in the trash can. She peered inside and found her old clothes piled there neatly.

  “What the…?”

  She yanked her old clothes out of the trash.

  “I can’t believe someone would throw away my clothes without my permission,” she grumbled angrily.

  Reyna yanked her ratty T-shirt back onto her clean body and shimmied into her well-worn jeans. She wasn’t going to wear all that prim and proper clothing. If Beckham had ordered this, then he needed to think again. She wasn’t some doll he could dress up. She would wear whatever she wanted.

  Once she had her clothes back on, she rushed out into the living room, only to find it empty. She muttered furiously under her breath and went into the kitchen to make breakfast. She was gathering ingredients for an omelet when Beckham strode out of the back hallway. He looked as imposing as ever, in a black three-piece suit and a dark purple patterned tie.

  He was checking his cellphone as always and didn’t look up until he heard the first crack of an egg. His eyes found her. Her returning look was steely. He seemed to appraise her, and she quickly looked away. Even though she was angry, it was hard to keep eye contact with him. Half of the time he looked like he wanted to have her for breakfast, and the other half he looked like he wanted to break her neck and throw her out the window.

  “Why in the world are you still in those hideous clothes?” he demanded tersely.

  “Why in the world did you try to throw out my clothes?”

  “They’re disgusting.”

  “Well, the other clothes didn’t feel like me,” she snapped, cracking another egg and whisking the contents vigorously.

  “They are all brand new.”

  She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. She didn’t even look up at him.

  “And very expensive.”

  Reyna sighed and made eye contact. “They look like they’re made for a baby doll.” She made a disgusted face. “I don’t know anyone who would wear clothes like that to sit around the house.”

  Beckham glared at her. “You don’t know anyone. Of course you wouldn’t know anyone who would wear that clothing.”

  She cringed.

  “Well, I just…want something that’s more me,” she said, holding her ground.

  “What you are wearing right now is no longer you.” His voice was dangerously low. “Trash it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Now her eyes were threatening. He couldn’t just order her around like this.

  “I said trash it.”

  “I work for you but that doesn’t mean you can dictate everything in my life!” she shouted back.

  Beckham tilted his head down and stared at her as if she were a three-year-old throwing a tantrum. He slowly walked toward her. “I said trash your clothes. Now. Purchase new clothes if you don’t like the ones ordered for you, but I can’t be seen with anyone dressed the way you are right now. You already made a spectacle of yourself last night in the lobby. Would you like to continue to embarrass yourself?”

  His words brokered no argument, and Reyna wordlessly shook her head. With him standing so near her, she was trembling from head to toe.

  “Good. Then go change.”

  Reyna dropped the whisk in the bowl, maneuvered around him, and then disappeared back into her room. She couldn’t believe she was letting him order her around and dress her as if she were a child, but how could she say no?

  She located the least extravagant outfit she could find—a white chiffon button-up blouse tucked into a rose gold sequined skirt—and tried not to feel ridiculous walking around in the ensemble.

  Beckham’s nod of approval did nothing to make her feel less awkward. Though it did make her feel a slightest glimmer of relief that she had done something to garner that approval…even if she had just fought him on it.

  “Here,” he said. He slid a black card across the counter to her.

  “What is it?”

  “The company has set up an account for you with access to your payments. It’s all in your savings. You can charge anything else to this card. It doubles as a key pass for the penthouse. Your first payment has already been deposited.”

  She took the key in her hand and stared at it in awe. She was holding a small fortune in her hand. It was so surreal.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t lose it. Those are not easy to get ahold of.”

  She nodded and then went back to her breakfast. She finished her omelet and sat down to eat it, shifting her skirt so that her ass wouldn’t hang out. When she sat down next to Beckham, he looked up from his phone. He seemed surprised she was still there. He appeared to be so used to being alone that having another person in his house was throwing him off.

  “Yes, well then…” he said as a way of farewell and then started for the door.

  “Where are you going?” she called.

  He stiffened at the question. “Work.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “I downloaded my schedule to your phone. Access the calendar feature, and you will have the updated information.”

  “Oh. Calendar feature. Right,” she said. Of course he had a schedule for all his work-related things.

  Without further ado, Beckham walked out of the penthouse, leaving her all alone. A
nd she had no better idea as to what the hell she was supposed to do in the first place. They hadn’t discussed when he was going to feed, and he hadn’t asked to drink from her once. She knew vampires needed to eat every couple days, but could go as long as a week without sustenance. Yet all of the information at Visage had made it seem like her Sponsor would wish to drink from her every day.

  Isn’t that what he’s paying me for?

  Chapter 6

  Reyna paced the apartment.

  She had finally managed to check Beckham’s schedule on her cellphone. He was supposed to be gone most of the day with work appointments. She had double-checked to see if he had scheduled time in his extremely busy calendar to eat but had no luck. She wasn’t on there at all, and as far as she could tell unless she was reading things wrong…he never took a break. He never slowed down. He didn’t seem to do anything except work.

  Which was just fine by her.

  With him gone for the day that meant she could go see her brothers. It would be a quick trip. No more than three or four hours. She would be back before Beckham even knew she had left the city.

  Not that he had said that she couldn’t leave. In fact, he had specifically said that she could. However, it didn’t make her any less frightened about what he would do if she did something else that displeased him. Wearing her old clothes had almost set him off. He was a ticking time bomb, and she was worried that she would end up on the wrong end of his explosion.

  Still she had to see her brothers. She would just make sure she didn’t break any of his rules, and she would be golden.

  She jotted out a text to Beckham. The buttons were hard to manage, and she had to backtrack a dozen times before she got the message right.

  Going out. Won’t be gone long. Bringing phone and card.

  A message returned from him almost immediately. How the hell did he type that fast?

  Call my driver, Gerard. He will take you anywhere in the city. If you go shopping for new clothes charge them on the card. I don’t want you in anything cheap. Do you understand?

  Yes.

  Good. Don’t be late tonight. We need to talk.

  She gulped. Talk. That couldn’t be good. Is he already upset with me? Or was that some kind of code for him wanting to eat? Either way she would find out tonight. He wouldn’t be back until later, which gave her plenty of time to see her brothers and get back for their talk.

  Finding a black cross-body purse in her closet, she placed her cellphone and the precious black card in the bag. The only shoes in the whole closet that weren’t four to six-inch stiletto high heels were a nude wedge. They would have to do. She knew she should call Beckham’s driver, but Beckham had said that the driver would take her anywhere in the city. Where she wanted to go was out of the city. If she had enough money to buy expensive clothes, then she had enough to take a cab in and out of the city.

  With that settled, she took the elevator downstairs. Judging by the looks from the people around her, it was clear that no one recognized her as the woman Beckham had brought back with him last night. Somehow in the course of an evening she managed to meet their high standards. A woman even looked envious of her ridiculous wedge heels. What she wouldn’t do for a pair of tennis shoes right now!

  The valet snapped to attention when he saw her. “May I help you, ma’am?”

  Ma’am. Holy shit!

  “Um…I need a cab?”

  The valet whistled, and a black Town Car pulled up in front of the building.

  “Is that…is that a cab?” she asked him hesitantly. “I thought they were yellow.”

  He eyed her curiously. “Only the best for our Visage clients.”

  “Oh. Well…do you mind me asking you how much it is?”

  God, she felt stupid for asking, but she wasn’t sure she could afford a Town Car for such a long drive in and out of the city.

  “You’re new here, aren’t you?” he asked, smiling politely. He didn’t look at her like she was an idiot at all. It was nice to have someone treat her kindly after tiptoeing around Beckham.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Just a bit. I’m Everett.”

  “Reyna.” They shook hands, and she breathed a sigh of relief for finding an ounce of humanity in this situation.

  “Well, don’t worry about the cab. It’s all billed to your room. You have a card?” She produced the black card, and he whistled low.

  “What?”

  “Those are unlimited cards.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  He frowned at her apologetically. “A black card. It means you have unlimited funds.”

  Her eyes widened, and she blinked rapidly a few times. That couldn’t be right. No way. She was getting paid for this. She wasn’t just being given access to Beckham’s immense wealth.

  “I think you’re mistaken.”

  His smile returned. “You’re probably right.”

  But she knew he was lying.

  “After you.” He opened the door for her, and she yanked her skirt down as she sat into the leather interior.

  “Thanks.”

  He smiled again. “Nice to meet you, Reyna.”

  “You too, Everett.”

  “Where to, miss?” the driver asked.

  “Warehouse District, fifty-four Boulevard East.”

  His eyebrows rose at the address. He was obviously wondering why a woman leaving this residence, dressed to the nines, was going to a run-down suburb.

  “Just tap your card on the screen and we’ll begin.”

  She removed the black card, wondering all the while if what Everett said was true. She stared at the computer display in the back of the Town Car, and then did as instructed. Once her card hit the monitor, it lit up.

  Beckham Anderson

  Reyna Carpenter

  Visage Incorporated

  Unlimited

  Her jaw went slack.

  And then the numbers started ticking up. She watched as the cost for the ride increased dramatically. More money than she or her brothers had seen in a lifetime was now being used for one car ride out of the city. Unbelievable.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen as the city disappeared behind them and they rolled up to her neighborhood. It had only been a day and already it felt like a lifetime. The driver pulled up to the Warehouse District slowly…almost cautiously. Being away in Beckham’s immaculately clean apartment made a stark contrast to her home.

  It was filthy.

  Filthy was an understatement. It was black. Soot. Pollution.

  It was the opposite of Visage.

  Ironic that her home would be darker and more eerie than a place filled with vampires who had been known to crave the night, thrive in the night.

  “Fifty-four Boulevard East. What building?” the driver asked.

  She pointed to a ramshackle apartment building five stories high. Half of the roof had blown off a couple of years back during a bad storm, and so it looked even more dilapidated than the surrounding buildings. Her brothers lived on the third floor in a drafty little hole in the wall.

  “I’m just going to see if anyone is home. Will you wait?” she asked.

  “Miss, I wouldn’t recommend someone like yourself going up there alone.”

  One day away from home and already I don’t belong.

  “I’ll be fine. Just wait for me right here.”

  As she opened the door, she shivered slightly. Her nude wedges touched the sooty earth. For some reason, the first thought in her mind was that Beckham would never let her keep these shoes now.

  She made it up to the third-floor landing uninterrupted. Not even crazy Mrs. Lowry was sitting with her door open ready to yell at anyone who passed. The door to her apartment was never locked, bec
ause there was nothing to steal, and she walked right inside.

  “Brian! Drew!” she called.

  No return reply came. She walked into the one bedroom and found it empty, just three sad pallets on the floor. Her brothers must be at work. She should have gone there first, but she’d wanted to check the apartment just in case.

  Hurrying down the stairs, she nearly ran into Gary Forman, the resident pervert. He grabbed her arm roughly. “Can you spare some change? A pretty young thing like yourself is sure to have a little something extra for a poor man like myself.”

  “Gary, it’s me, Reyna. Let me go.”

  “Reyna?” His eyes bulged, but he didn’t let go of her arm. “Nah. Reyna left yesterday. Her brothers are looking all over for her.”

  “Well, I came back,” she snapped. “Will you tell them I’m going to the warehouses if they come looking for me here?”

  She yanked her arm free and scurried away as fast as she could. When she sank down mercifully into the backseat again, her stomach was in knots. And she realized with a sigh that she had a black handprint on her otherwise clean skin. No wonder she had never felt clean before.

  She directed the driver to the warehouses where her brothers worked and made him park around the corner so the cab wasn’t visible. He offered to come in with her, but she worried more about someone stealing his car than anything happening to her.

  Reyna rounded the corner to the front of the warehouse just as a shift was getting out. Her heart stopped as at least a dozen hungry men stared at her. Never in her life had she been afraid of men in this neighborhood, but she didn’t look like a woman from the warehouses. She looked like a high-class city girl. Even she wouldn’t recognize herself here.

  Then one of them stepped forward. Steven. She ground her teeth in frustration. This was not a good time for her to see her ex. She hadn’t spoken with him since he had left her to be with another woman, and she didn’t really want to talk to him right now. But she had to if she was going to find her brothers in a reasonable amount of time. The clock was ticking.