"Oh my! I'm so tired!" Harper sighed, dropping herself onto the cushioned seat at the grand table. She leaned back, letting her shoulders fall, clearly drained from the long day.
"Do you need anything?" Freya asked, her tone soft as she approached.
Harper nodded with a small smile. "Just any cold drink is fine."
"Alright, Blue!" Freya beamed and hurried off.
Just as Harper relaxed, a sharp voice sliced through the calm.
"Yah! Who allowed this guy to sit here?" Violet stormed in, flanked by a small group of noble courtesans. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor.
Harper blinked, lifting a brow.
"Harper, this is the noble ladies' seat. You are not allowed here," Olivia snapped, her voice dripping with disdain.
"I am a noble courtesan, Olivia," Harper said coolly, sitting up straighter, her tone laced with quiet power.
Olivia scoffed. "Because you were given the title doesn't necessarily mean that you are noble. You're just a piece of trash worshiping Angel's feet some days ago."
Harper paused, her lips twitching into a half-smile. "Really? Did she say that?"
"Sure I did," Angel strutted in behind them. "Were you not my escort just some days ago?"
"And this day, I am a noble courtesan," Harper stood slowly, eyes burning with steel, "and I am above everyone here. I mean each and every one of you." She pointed to them one by one, her voice clear and unwavering.
Gasps echoed.
"In your dreams, Harper!" Violet hissed.
"Y'all only have some months left to get off your contract with your companions," Harper said with a casual shrug. "Don't you have to worry about getting a new one? At least I don't have to worry about that until I leave the courtesan house."
Olivia crossed her arms. "Don't be so proud, Harper. You are still a slave bought off by the courtesan house!"
Harper stepped forward. "I got more money and redeemed myself. I no longer belong to the courtesan house. I am just a courtesan in the courtesan house."
Their eyes widened. Some looked to one another, murmuring in disbelief.
"Oh, before I forget—Angel?" Harper turned to her nemesis with a sly smile.
"What?" Angel rolled her eyes.
"You and I had an agreement some weeks ago."
Angel frowned. "What agreement?"
"If I were to be above you in the courtesan house, you'd run around the Shield Hotels calling yourself a fool."
Gasps and giggles rippled through the room.
"Oh my! Did you say that, Angel?" Olivia grinned wickedly.
"When did I say such nonsense? And who told you that you are above me in this house?"
Harper didn't blink. "Of course I am. I am a permanent noble courtesan. What are you?"
"You are crazy, Harper!"
"My name is Blue," she said calmly, holding Angel's gaze.
"Hmph! Which damn Blue? You don't think I'm gonna listen to you, do you?"
"Maybe if you kneel down and beg me now, I might still reconsider letting you run around and humiliate yourself." Harper tilted her head with mock innocence.
Angel scoffed. "You have really grown some wings, Harper! Me, kneel down for you? I'm not crazy!"
Suddenly, a new voice echoed through the lounge.
"Angel, you have to keep your words!" Madam Fransisca strode in, her cloak fluttering behind her. All heads turned. "I was there when you told Blue you would run around calling yourself a fool. You are a courtesan—you should keep your word."
Angel gasped. "I should run around the Shield Hotels? Isn't that ruining the reputation of the courtesan house?"
"No, your own reputation only!" Fransisca's tone was icy. "Next time, watch your mouth. Kneel for Blue or run along."
"I will never kneel for Harper!"
Fransisca didn't flinch. "Jesse!"
"Yes, Madam?" Jesse stepped forward.
"Cut off Angel's shopping coupon for six months and restrict her from following the courtesans outside."
"Madam!!!" Angel's voice cracked, her face contorted with fury.
Fransisca stepped closer, her gaze unyielding. "Her name is Blue. If you call her Harper again, you'll get more punishment. Now kneel—or run along!"
Everyone fell silent. All eyes locked on Angel as she trembled, her pride battling her fear. Then—
She dropped to her knees.
Click! Olivia's laughter rang out as she sneakily snapped a photo.
"Is this okay?" she whispered to Harper, biting back a smile.
Harper stepped forward, folding her arms with a wicked glint in her eye. She leaned down, whispering into Angel's ear.
"You're not the only crazy woman here, Angel. Don't mess with me if you don't want to be messed with."
Angel looked up, face red with humiliation. "You—"
Harper straightened with a smile. "Oh my, Angel. Don't kneel too long—please stand up!"
She turned back to the rest. "Y'all don't mind me sitting at the noble ladies' table, right?"
"Oh no, no! We don't!" several courtesans chorused, their voices suddenly sweet.
Fransisca paused at the door. "Why would they mind before?" She raised a brow and disappeared down the hall.
Angel made a move, but a tall figure blocked her path.
"Move back, ma'am," Sage said firmly.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Her guard."
Angel growled and stormed out of the lounge.
Harper adjusted her collar. "Let's go back," she said, and her escorts followed her out with quiet dignity.
Behind her, the other courtesans exploded into murmurs.
"Oh my, that girl is crazy!" Violet breathed.
"She's challenging Angel like that!"
"Well ladies," Olivia said, tossing her hair, "we follow the winning team!"
"Sure, Olivia. Angel's era is over. She better brace herself and accept the new best courtesan."
"Harper's companion is Quincy. All our companions are connected to him through money and influence. We should not get on her bad side."
"Yeah, we shouldn't…" someone whispered, the lounge suddenly filled with both awe and fear.
Harper took the elevator and arrived downstairs. As the doors slid open, she stepped out gracefully. The rich scent of polished floors and distant perfume filled the air. Every staff she passed paused, bowed slightly, or gave a respectful nod.
She offered a soft smile in return, still not quite used to this level of treatment. The building looked grand, as if it belonged to a different world—chandeliers glittered, golden trimmings gleamed on the walls, and the soft murmur of activity echoed like music.
Outside, the late morning breeze brushed her face. A luxury black van pulled up to the entrance with a low purr. The paint shimmered like onyx under the sun.
Sage stepped out crisply in his fitted uniform and opened the door for her.
"Ma'am!" He bowed with a respectful smile.
Harper tilted her head, curious. "Who owns that?"
"Mr. Dylan sent it with the paperwork. He said it was for you."
Her brows lifted slightly, surprised. "Oh! I thought the courtesan house gives everyone a ride."
Sage chuckled faintly. "He said he wants you to use this. It's the latest collection."
Harper's eyes widened. She stepped closer, her reflection rippling across the smooth surface of the van. "It's beautiful," she whispered.
She opened the door gently and peeked inside. The interior was plush—light blue leather with white accents. Her name, Blue, was embroidered on the seats in silver thread. She ran her fingers along the stitching, stunned.
"We should go now. You can't be late for your appointment."
Harper nodded. "Okay." She climbed in, rolled the glass window down, and took in the cityscape as they started moving.
"This is the first time I've ever stepped out of the courtesan house since I arrived here."
Freya, sitting beside Sage in the front seat, twisted around. "First time? You've never left?"
Harper looked out the window, her voice soft. "Yes. I didn't even know what outside looked like… It's beautiful. The hotels are magnificent and mesmerizing."
"Yes, they are. Everyone goes crazy about working at the Shield Hotels—it's the biggest thing in this city."
Harper chuckled, a glimmer of awe in her eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything lesser."
"Whoever owns the Shield Hotels is surely a big shot. This place is incomparable. Even after a decade, it still looks brand new."
Harper leaned back, still staring out. "I want to visit the rest of the hotels someday."
"You're a noble courtesan. You can go into any of the buildings freely—they'll gladly welcome you."
Harper nodded thoughtfully. "I noticed the staff respected the courtesans a lot."
Freya grinned. "The courtesans are respected everywhere. Only jealous wives of their companions hate them."
Harper gave a small, intrigued smirk. "Talking about wives… do y'all know what Quincy's wife is like?"
Freya nudged Sage. "Sage will tell you."
Harper turned to him, slightly amused. "He knows?"
"Sure. He's your guard—he has to gather information about people around you. And Quincy's wife? She's your number one threat, not Angel."
Harper sat up straighter. "How is she a threat?"
Sage sighed, clearly not fond of the topic. "She's a crazy woman. Gianna River. She's 29."
Harper blinked. "Older than Quincy?"
"Yes, ma'am. She was betrothed to Quincy before birth. Her family saved Quincy's grandfather, so a marriage was promised between their kids. Quincy's father hated her mother though, so he married someone else. But the promise stood, and Quincy had no choice."
Harper frowned slightly, her hands curling on her lap. "So… Quincy doesn't like her either?"
"She's not a likable person. Spoiled. Proud. All she does is spend money and brag about being Mrs. Dylan."
Harper raised a brow. "She doesn't help with the business?"
Sage shook his head. "She doesn't work at all."
"She met Quincy three years ago and became crazy about him so they've been married since then. Quincy didn't care enough to fight it. He just let her wear the title and kept his distance."
Harper bit her lip. "What about her family?"
"They're rich and very influential. Their alliance helped Quincy grow the business."
Harper let out a quiet breath. "Is she going to find out about me?"
"Definitely. She's among the elites—she'll know if her husband took a courtesan."
"Will she cause trouble?"
Freya shrugged. "Maybe. She can't enter the courtesan house, but we've got to watch out for her outside. That's why Sage is with you."
Harper turned to Sage, her expression softening with appreciation. "Thank you, Sage. Thank you, Freya."
Sage gave her a small smile through the rearview mirror. "It's fine. We got you, Blue."
Harper smiled faintly, her chest warming at the sound of her name—Blue. For once, she felt protected… not just a girl surviving, but someone cared for.
Meanwhile, back at the courtesan house, the atmosphere shifted.
A group of courtesans lounged around the velvet-lit lounge room, the scent of peony and wine lingering in the air. Soft chatter filled the space until Angel leaned back with a sly smirk, her tone laced with cold amusement.
"Today is Blue's first cocktail-hosting."
Her voice rang through the room, drawing curious glances. The girls stilled, their gazes sharpening.
Celine, ever eager to please, lifted her chin. "Yes, Angel?"
Angel crossed one leg over the other and twirled her glass slowly, eyes glittering like sharpened steel.
"Well… let's give her a perfect party."
The way she said perfect made the air feel suddenly colder, laced with something sinister.
"What should I do, Angel?" She moved a little closer, lowering her voice and keeping her posture demure.
Angel beckoned her with a single, manicured finger. "Come here."
Celine obeyed instantly, crouching beside her. Angel leaned close, lips brushing her ear as she whispered her instructions with deliberate slowness.
As Celine listened, a slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
"Consider it done, Angel."
She rose gracefully, confidence radiating from her like perfume.
Angel smirked, raising her glass in mock celebration. "Cool."
The room, still filled with courtesans, buzzed with low murmurs. A few exchanged wary glances, sensing mischief in the air.