Hush, Hush (Hush, Hush 1)

When my classes are done for the day, I drop my books off at the apartment, then take the subway to meet Natalie uptown. I got a clean STD test, which I knew I would, and got my adult entertainment license; I even signed up for Pilates where Natalie goes. The last thing on my to-do list from Christine is to shop for proper attire.

I walk into a store on Madison Avenue and Natalie already has a few bags in her hands. Stella McCartney, Carolina Herrera, Fendi, Prada—all places I never thought I'd shop at. I've walked past them countless times over the years, but I've never let myself step inside any of them. No sense looking at what you’ll never own, right?

"Hey, girl, I started shopping already," Natalie says cheerily. "I've got a bunch of stuff picked out for you."

"Yeah, that’s awesome. I love your style, so it works."

"Thanks to my mother," she says, and flips through bright red, high waist miniskirts. As usual, her makeup and clothes are on point. "My mom should've been a fashion designer, or at least a celebrity stylist. I think she missed her calling in life. She has incredible taste and always looks fresh to death. She has inside intel on what all the new trends will be, and then she tells me." Natalie hands me a handful of cocktail dresses that are insanely elegant and scream wealth. "Let's go to the back and try these on"

I don't care about new fashion trends, but I guess if I'm diving head-first into the sex trade I probably should. Wealthy men know class when they see it. These clients want arm candy to show off, something that’ll make other men envious of them. I can't do that with a dress from Target.

I try on one dress and try not to gawk at the price tag. I step out of the fitting room and Natalie’s eyes roam my body for two seconds.

"We'll take it," she says. "Next."

Natalie says that for all the dresses and it starts to worry me. While she held true to her word and gave me ten grand for taking the Sanctuary Cove job, I don't think it's going to be enough, so I speak up.

"Even with the money you gave me, Nat, I can't afford all the dresses and whatever else you already bought."

She smiles at me, always so friendly and sweet.

"I got you into this, so I'm going to set you up. It's only fair. After your first job or two, take me out, or buy me a sexy pair of shoes, and we'll call it even."

I tilt my head to the side. "Nat—"

"Nope. Let me do this. And I'm sure I'll want to borrow some stuff anyway, so it's really for both of us," she says like it's final, then hands me a gorgeous pair of metallic gold Manolo Blahnik sandals. There's a band of amber crystals across the toes and a thin ankle strap. Stylish. I could dress them up with a black dress or dress them down with a pair of jeans.

I don't even know how many more shops we stop at, but I now have my own beige and black Burberry coat, shoes from Prada, delicate gloves by a designer I can't even pronounce, a flowy blood orange and deep green floral scarf dress that I'd never, ever in a million years wear, but it happened to fit perfectly and I loved it at first sight. Natalie insisted it would be good for a brunch event. Something about my dark hair and milky complexion working well with the colors. Everything is glamourous and exquisite and I'm suddenly excited to wear them. We hit Bergdorf, Saks, Tory Burch, and even some little boutiques for jewelry before we take an Uber back to the apartment since we have so many bags.

"Welcome to the lifestyle of the rich and shameless. If we’re ever given a reality show, that's what we'll call it," Natalie says, and I laugh. "You never wear personal jewelry. Nothing that can link you back to your real life or holds personal value. When you step out of the town car, you become Valentina," she says. "You forget your real world. You’re there to do a job. It's no different than any other job, really."

I swallow, knowing it was different.

I take my purchases to my room and hang up the clothes as Natalie checks her phone.

"Your phone is vibrating," she says. I reach for my back pocket and frown when I palm it.

"No, it's not."

"Your Valentina phone."

My heart drops.

I walk to retrieve the phone Madam Christine had sent over for me the other day. Swiping it open, my hand is shaking as I read the text message from her.

I glance up and meet Natalie's gaze. Instant nerves consume my entire being and I feel like I’m going to be sick. I knew this day was coming, I just thought I'd have more time to prepare.

"Two hours," I say. "I have two hours until my first job."

Natalie’s bright smile annoys me. I want her to panic with me, but she's acting like a kid in a candy shop.

"How exciting! Good thing we went shopping!"

My eyes widen and my chest rises and falls heavily. "But it's a school night. I have school tomorrow," I say, making any excuse to talk myself out of going. I don’t think I’m cut out for this after all.

She stares at me, blinks long, and then laughs so hard that she has to reach out to steady herself from falling over. I'm so glad my freak out amuses her. I prop my hands on my hips and just glare at her.

"Okay," she says, trying not to laugh. "Stop being dramatic. You're not ten. You can stay out past your curfew. I asked and got approval. I promise you won't get grounded."