The Deal Taker (Book III)

Chapter One - What's My Line? 2010

                                                            Chapter One

                                                         What’s My Line?

                                                                 2010

LEATHER PANTS.

I’ve always heard of them, but never have I actually seen a pair for my own eyes, let alone wear them. I wasn’t sure how I felt about them considering I’ve been wearing sweatpants for the past week and a half. I’ve always loved formfitting pants, especially in black, but these basically felt like thick plastic wrapped around my butt and legs, all the way to my calves. I wasn’t sure if I looked hot or like some sort of washed up rocker from the 1980’s. It was a tossup.

I stood in front of the mirror, still indecisive of whether I was liking this new wardrobe. All of the clothes I had before moving into Matthew’s mansion were literally burned. Apparently my taste was something not tolerated in the rich people society. So here I stood, in formfitting leather pants, a crimson fitting top that flared out at my non-existent hips, and chunky gold jewelry around my neck. My hair was done in curls and my makeup made me look somehow paler than I actually was, probably to make me look less human.

My ruby lips were frowning deeply at the prissy-looking girl in front of me in her black Louis Vuitton heels. What a poser, I thought as I searched for any trace of Joanna Garth in there. I looked nice, sure. But I didn’t look like the sassy girl from the streets I once was, which surprisingly bothered me.

“Miss Garth? Mr. Foster wants you in the library,” a voice called through the thick wooden door of my bedroom.

I tore my eyes from the mirror and opened the door to look at the young maid. She seemed startled by my appearance. She was probably used to coming into my room and seeing this blob on the bed eating popcorn and watching reality TV shows. Instead she finds this distinguished young woman dressed in clothes more expensive than what her old truck was. “Did he give a reason?” I questioned, lazily leaning against the doorframe.

She tried not to look me in the eye for too long, as if it’d upset me. “He only instructed me to bring you downstairs. And I also need the breakfast tray.”

I stepped aside, letting her gather my dishes without a word. It was beyond strange to allow someone to do everything for me. It was against my nature. But after some arguing with Matthew, we compromised; I let people do things for me and Matthew lets Buddy, my German shepherd, sleep in my bed. I’d like to think I won that round, especially since Buddy will be sleeping in our bed next week.

Next week.

The room kind of spud at that realization. Just a week and a half ago I was signing papers to send my sister off to a new life with an engagement ring on my finger as payment. In just a few days, I’ll be marrying a rich and powerful vampire who has caused me a lot of misery in my two years of knowing him. At least he’s been really sweet and respectful towards me during my time here.

Matthew allowed me to wallow in self-pity the entire time here. I never left my room, not once. Food was brought to me at every meal, and no one bothered me. He did, however, visit me every single night. It wasn’t a forced visit or him trying to comfort me in anyway, thankfully. He would come in and just sit in the chair next to my bed or sit on the bed and watch whatever crap I was watching. No deep talking, no cuddling, nothing. He’d kiss me when he arrive and when he left, but nothing too mushy. He actually was respecting my space, which was astonishing to me. In addition, I haven’t had to play a single part in the wedding plans. All I’ve had to do the entire time I’ve been here was sit in my room and lay around until it was time to play my role of the perfect wife-to-be.