Page 17 of The Gilded Fae (Royal Fae of Rose Briar Woods 2)

“I don’t.”

Penelope looks around and then whispers, “Have someone else sing for her—let her mouth the words.”

I gape at her. “Penelope—”

“Oh, don’t pretend you’re above such things, Alex. We all know you’ve made plenty of questionable decisions in your past.” She leans a fraction closer. “And I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind a little of Mr. Blakely’s money lining my pockets.”

With a raise of her tawny brows, the young woman stands.

“Just think about it.” She flicks my shoulder as she leaves. “It’s not a crime.”

I sink my head into my hands, groaning again. It’s not that the theater doesn’t make decent money—it does. But we’re in desperate need of new side-wing curtains, and the girls in the apartments upstairs keep complaining that the roof is leaking. Right now, income from the hotel is what keeps us afloat.

And I have a debt to pay.

We need something big if I want to restore the theater to its former glory—something that will fill the seats every performance.

We need Candace.

Frederick walks back into the house, whistling in a self-satisfied way that makes me want to extend my leg to trip him.

“You’ve been annoyingly smug all afternoon,” I grouse. “Tell me, have you forgotten Candace is engaged?”

“This isn’t about Candie,” he assures me.

“Then what is it?”

He gives me a heartsick grin. “I met a girl.”

“That’s not anything new. You have a new girl every week—sometimes more than one, depending on how quickly they get bored of you.”

He walks to the stage and leaps up to sit on the edge. “But this girl is…”

He grins, obviously proud of himself, though I can’t fathom why.

“You’ll see,” he says with a laugh. “Tonight, you’ll understand.”

“I don’t suppose this goddess of yours can sing?”

Frederick gives me a strange look. “I have no idea.”

I grunt as my mind wanders back to my current dilemma.

* * *

Frederick paces nextto me in the foyer, tapping his ridiculous cane to the floor with each step, scanning the crowd as people make their way past the ticket box. While he looks for his mystery girl, I count patrons, mentally tallying what we’re selling in tickets.

From the looks of things, only about half the seats have sold so far, about ten percent less than last week. Discouraging numbers for closing night.

When my father owned the Gryphon Lane Theater, he made it the place to show off your status, but all that changed when the heir to his legacy went missing. The theater shut its doors for the first time since it opened. He died not long after.

When I returned from Faerie, I opened it again, dreaming of the day it would be as grand as it was in my youth. Each year, we get a little closer to my goal.

I can’t help but think with Candace’s influence, and her fiancé’s money, we might reach that tier this year.

If dear Candie could sing.

Filled with nervous energy, I tap a program on my arm, turning my eyes to Frederick. “You’re going to wear a hole in the rug. Why are you pacing like that?”