Page 8 of King of Desire (Kings of Las Vegas #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Honeyeh

The rest of week passes more quietly than my first two days.

I meet the staff, learn the rules of the house, balance my schoolwork with the job, and best of all, pay off several debts with the bonus I received.

It’s such a relief to zero out and throw away some of the bills that have been hanging around my neck for the past several months.

I have a few larger ones to go. But now that I can focus on just a few debts, I can start saving for the down payment for the surgeon.

By Thursday morning, I’ve dusted every nook and cranny in the house and I’m beginning to wonder if the staff has ever had a full-time duster, because I have no idea what I’ll do with myself for the next two days.

But I spend the morning actually polishing the silverware, or rather, making sure it’s free of water marks, and then do the same with the plates.

Finally, Mrs. Raith and I are standing together in the ballroom, staring up at the chandeliers.

The one I dusted before Triston insisted I get down clearly sparkles far brighter than the other two.

“They need to be done,” Mrs. Raith grimaces. “It’s so obvious one of them was cleaned and the others weren’t.”

I nod. “I agree.”

She looks over at me, giving me a small smile. “You’ve done well this week.”

“Thank you,” I dip my chin, pleased with the compliment. “I really enjoy working here.”

Mrs. Raith shakes her head like there is something she can’t quite figure out.

Did she expect me to be different? Why? “I can see that you do, and I appreciate your work ethic and easy demeanor. Both have been a welcome…” She pauses as though she’s rethinking her words.

“And while I appreciate your willingness to finish the chandeliers, I’m not certain it’s a good idea. ”

“But we just agreed they should be done.” I have little appetite to argue with Mrs. Raith, but I really want her to be happy with my work.

“By someone else,” Mrs. Raith nods along with her own words. “Mr. Smith seemed rather adamant that you not be up the ladder.”

Mr. Smith… Does Mrs. Raith privately call him Triston and only calls him Mr. Smith when speaking to other staff? Or am I the only one who calls him Triston? “Was it because I was in heels and a regular dress?”

She gives me that look again, like she’s attempting to figure something out. “I’m not sure.”

Triston hasn’t been here the past few days. He’s been working in the office. I look up at the chandelier. “It’s not even that high if I use the telescoping duster that has the sprayer on the handle.”

Mrs. Raith nods like she’s agreeing, but then stops. “I could have one of the groundskeepers come in and do the job.”

Everyone on the staff has been busy with party preparations. The idea of passing my one job, dusting, onto someone else, makes my insides twist. “I’d hate to pull them from their prep work. I’m going to do it.”

Mrs. Raith shakes her head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

I look over at Mrs. Raith, my brow furrowing. She doesn’t speak to anyone else on the staff like this, doesn’t make suggestions. She politely gives orders, they politely follow. I’ve not heard her negotiate this entire week.

“It will be fine,” I murmur, going to retrieve the ladder from the wall where we left it as we assessed the chandeliers. “I’ll be done well before Mr. Smith arrives home.”

Mrs. Raith sighs. “I’ll stay with you to hold the ladder.”

I stop, turning back to her. Now I’m disrupting her day, when the very reason I was hired was to free her from interruption. “You don’t have to do that. I can’t even imagine what your to-do list looks like.”

She smiles. “Nonsense. You’ll help me with something else later. Let’s get this done quickly…together.”

Grabbing the ladder, I pull it open, making certain the arms are locked in place.

Then I pull out my telescoping duster with a cleaning spray near the top.

Climbing up the ladder, I begin carefully spraying the crystal in sections, wiping as I go.

The individual crystals sparkle as I work, but I have to move the ladder several times to reach every part of the chandelier.

Mrs. Raith stands silent guard at the bottom of the ladder. She doesn’t need to hold it. It’s a perfectly stable structure. But I can see her look of concern, so I don’t correct her.

Instead, I work as quickly as I can while making certain I’m getting every crystal. “Tell me about the benefit tomorrow night…what will it be like?”

I know I won’t be here dusting, my duties do not include attending parties, but I wish I could see it. I’ve never gotten to attend an event like this, and I bet they are wonderfully beautiful.

I’ve been watching as the linens and flowers have been delivered. Luxurious fabrics and exotic blooms. Ridiculous amounts of food are filling the industrial refrigerators… shrimp, oysters, massive crudités platters and pastries that look as though they’ve come from France.

And the champagne. I’m not much of a drinker, but I’d give anything to taste it. It’s another world and it sparkles like this chandelier.

I let out a sigh as I pause in my work.

“What is it?” Mrs. Raith asks from her watch at the bottom of the ladder.

“Will the benefit be as wonderful as I imagine?”

Mrs. Raith clears her throat. “They are very beautiful and filled with lots of self-important people.”

I laugh a bit, as I come down the ladder, ready to move to the final chandelier. “That makes sense. And thank you for the dose of reality. Every experience is only as good as the people you share it with.”

Mrs. Raith steps back to allow me to come down. “Excellent way to phrase it.”

“Mrs. Raith.” Triston’s deep voice calls from the entrance to the ballroom. “Honeyeh. What are the two of you doing?”

I turn as he strides across the large space, a scowl on his face.

Mrs. Raith lets out a long slow breath, her eyes shifting up to the ceiling as though she’s preparing herself before she turns to Triston. “We are cleaning before the benefit.”

His scowl deepens as I step forward, wishing to protect Mrs. Raith. “It was my idea. The other chandeliers looked so dull…”

“The two of you are the last two people who should be completing this job. Anyone else on staff can be the person on the ladder or the person holding it in place.”

Mrs. Raith winces. “Right. Apologies.”

I open my mouth to protest again. I’m not trying to get myself fired. I just want to explain.

But before I get a word out, he holds up a garment bag he has draped over his arm. “Did you have plans for Honeyeh during the benefit?” he asks Mrs. Raith.

My stomach quivers. Why is he asking that? Fear slides down my spine. Did I just talk myself out of a job?

Mrs. Raith shakes her head. “No. Her attendance is not required within her current position.”

“Good.” Triston turns to look at me, but I sway on my feet. He is firing me. “Honeyeh, I’d like a word.”

“Of course,” I answer, my hands clasping together, over my stomach, as I look at Mrs. Raith with panic surely draining the color from my face. She winces back.

He reaches out his free hand, and for a moment I just stare. Then, unlocking my clenched fingers, I slip my hand into his.

A shock of electricity zips through me as our hands touch. “I…I didn’t mean to directly disobey.”

His eyes meet mine. “Of course you did.”

That makes my stomach bottom out because he’s right. “I didn’t want to push my job on anyone else on the staff. I’m new and…”

“It’s all right, Honeyeh. I’ll assign the last chandelier to someone else personally, so they know you’re not responsible.”

For a moment, my shoulders sag in relief. That doesn’t sound like I’m getting fired. But then a new worry makes me worry my lip. “They’re going to think that I’m your favorite.”

He stares down at me. “They are. Yes.”

My lips part as I search for the right words. “But…I’m new and…”

In answer, he tugs my hand, pulling me out of the ballroom and up the grand stairs I never use. When we reach the top, we turn into his office, where he closes the door.

The room looks over the front of the house, out onto the drive and sweeping lawns. Like every room, it’s well appointed, and beautifully decorated. But I’m starting to realize that the whole house lacks any sort of personal touches.

There are no pictures, mementos, pieces that look like they have meaning instead of just suiting the décor.

He lets go of my hand as he tosses the bag on the desk, holding it with one hand as he unzips it with the other.

My brow furrows as he pushes back the sides of the bag, revealing a red silk dress. “What is that?”

“It’s for you.”

I blink several times. “I beg your pardon?”

“For the benefit.”

“I…” The dress is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I reach out my hand and then withdraw it again. “The benefit?”

He clears his throat. “This is a networking event for me. My breakup with Veronica was very public.”

I nod, though I still don’t understand what that means for me.

“I would prefer not to bring a real date, it would be a distraction. But I don’t really wish to go alone either. A woman on my arm softens my image and keeps the female guests from attempting—” He stops. “I’d like you to be my plus one for the evening.”

“I…I’m sorry…” I can’t quite make sense of what he’s saying. Is he asking me out? This flutter in my chest makes me a bit dizzy, and I reach for the desk.

“I need a date who understands it’s not a real date. I will pay your overtime wage. Your job will be to nod and smile so that I can use the night for the business it was intended for.”

“So am I your date or your employee?”

“Employee. But I’d like the other guests to think you’re my date. I know it’s a ruse, but I can’t afford any distractions, and I think we can manage it.”

“But…will people think…the staff…” I don’t want to care. But I also want to keep this job for a while and if the entire staff dislikes me, that will be difficult to do.

He sighs. “I thought I explained. I have a house manager and an executive assistant. What I’m looking for is more of a personal assistant who helps me with all the jobs that are out of bounds for someone in the executive realm.”

I gasp, because, when labeled like that, I think I understand. “A personal assistant?”

“You can continue dusting. It will fill your hours. But I think we can dispense with the uniform. We’ll get you a wardrobe that is more fitting to your title.”

I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. This can’t be real…

“Any after-hours events will command a fee of one hundred fifty an hour.”

I gasp. “That much?” I look down at the dress. I understand what he’s asking. The job he’s suggesting is not just good money, it’s an excellent opportunity for a woman who wishes to attend law school.

With all that said, it’s a foolish idea. I don’t know anything about society and even less about dating.