He smiles, ignoring her mood. “She’ll do fine, Tessa. Marlena has proven to be very adaptable. She handles stress well.”
He’s got to be kidding! I manage to refrain from blurting that out loud. He’s already shoved me toward her, and once the woman lays her hands on me, I know I’m hers until this ordeal is over.
A flurry of activity goes on around me. I’m stripped down to my naked body, then a creamy white corset is cinched tight around my middle—I can barely breathe—and with silver tray in hand, I’m shoved out toward the formal gardens where a well-heeled crowd of guests mills about chattering about whatever wealthy people at garden parties chatter about. The laughter is civil, the discourse polite. Too stuffy for me. For a moment, I feel as if I’ve walked onto a Hollywood movie set, or,
