Tempting the Crown (The Crown 1)

“Please examine your tallies,” the MC instructed. “The gala has begun.” He wacked a gavel on a marble pedestal, announcing the beginning of my nightmare.

My shoulders jerked at the startling sound. I swallowed softly.

“I would like to invite our participants to await their tally number before returning.” His accent was thick. I couldn’t place it. He might not have been a native Galonian.

I shook my head at the ridiculous thought. Why did I care where he was from? Why was I trying to study dialect as if I had a linguistics degree? I was going to be paraded in front of the audience a second time, only this time it would be alone. I had to walk without shaking. Without my ankles buckling. Without puking on the polished floor. That’s what I should focus on.

“Molly, let’s go.” Brooklyn kicked me with a slight tap of her hip and I turned for the doorway.

As soon as we were backstage I exhaled and bent forward, gripping my knees.

“Did you see anyone?” she asked. “Maybe one of the princes? I heard there might be a director here. Did you recognize any of them?”

I shook my head. “The lights were too bright.” I looked up. “How did you hear about a director?” I hadn’t seen her speak to anyone else. As soon as we arrived we were ushered into a room where someone explained the contents of the non-disclosure contract we were required to sign.

We also had the option of getting our hair and makeup touched up and a complimentary glass of champagne, but only one. I wished I had accepted it. Drinking beyond that was prohibited.

She shrugged. “One of the girls in the back said they’re shooting a movie in Harwina. It’s a possibility.”

“That’s an hour from here.” Talking helped. Concentrating on facts. Miles between cities. Those things cleared my head. I tried to picture the road from Freychon to Harwina. I had been there once.

“But this is The Titan.” She beamed. “It’s legendary.”

“Right. Legendary,” I whispered.

“Cherie, cherie, it is time.”

“Oh no. No. No. No.” I shook my head.

I was surprised at how strong he was for having such a slight build. Within seconds he had nudged me forward and the spotlight landed on my feet.

“Tally seven-seven-seven.” The MC’s voice rang clear as he announced my number.

“Oh shit,” I whispered. There was a hand on the small of my back as I was t

hrust on stage.

The MC cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”

It started rapidly.

I tried to follow the voices as they called out, but in the pit of darkness it was impossible. Some sounded older than others. I even heard an American or two mixed in. I squinted, feeling my heart race. I tried to ground myself. I tried to breathe.

I tried to pretend that auctioning myself off for a night to Galona’s secret society was exactly what I wanted to do.

3

Damon

“That is the one,” Ashford suggested, pointing to the next number on his ticket. It was creased down the middle. I don’t know why he folded it in his pocket rather than just leaving it on the table in between tenders. “Your type. I can tell.”

I was impatient. Tonight’s tally wasn’t impressive. None of them held my attention. They were all the same. Cleavage. Poufy hair. More makeup than a cover model. At this point I didn’t know what would hold my attention. Why had I thought another gala would give me something? Push me? Excite me? Clearly a six-month break hadn’t awakened a renewed interest.

“I don’t have a type.” I strummed my fingers on the table.

“That could change after tonight.”

“I didn’t see her,” I admitted. Nothing stood out in the first-round viewing. Evidently he was referring to seven-seven-seven.