After all the other girls were dispatched to their tasks, Darla stepped forward, her posture confident but her expression carefully composed. The tall, gray-haired man known as Simon regarded her with a neutral, almost disinterested expression, though there was a flicker of something else in his piercing gaze as he looked her over. Darla maintained her composure, understanding that every interaction in this place was a test of her poise and adaptability.
Unbeknownst to her, Simon was telepathically connected to Lady Violet, who was watching from a distance, hidden from sight but observing her prized recruits with keen interest. Through the silent link of their vampiric abilities, Simon communicated his surprise about Darla's striking appearance. *She's... unusual,* he conveyed to Lady Violet, his tone guarded but inquisitive.
*Yes,* Lady Violet replied in thought, her own mind musing over the enigma that was Darla. *Watch her. She has potential, but I want to ensure she's as reliable as she is alluring.*
With their brief, soundless exchange complete, Simon nodded to Darla, keeping his expression carefully unreadable. "You're to serve as a waitress tonight," he told her, his voice cool and devoid of any warmth. "Head to the bar, pick up your checkbook, and start with the table by the far wall."
Darla offered a slight nod of acknowledgment. Though his tone was impassive, she sensed his interest had been piqued. As she moved past him, she could almost feel his eyes following her, a silent acknowledgment of the power dynamics at play. No matter. She would soon learn the rules of this place, adapt to them, and turn them to her advantage. That was how she'd survived before, and it was how she would survive now.
At the bar, she retrieved a small leather-bound checkbook and pen to take down her orders. The bar itself was a polished mahogany slab with glass shelves behind it stocked with crystal decanters filled with amber, gold, and clear liquors. Ornate glasses lined the shelves, hinting at the luxury the clientele here demanded. She took a deep breath and collected herself, summoning the poise that had once made her a powerful figure in her own world.
Her first table was situated against the wall, dimly lit by the soft glow of a nearby candelabra. Six men sat around the table, deep in conversation, each exuding an air of authority and refinement. Their finely tailored suits gleamed subtly under the low light, each man presenting himself as a vision of wealth and privilege. Darla's eyes scanned the scene with practiced discretion, cataloging every detail as she approached.
There were two men in black tuxedos, both with red hair, one with a sharper cut and the other with loose, tousled curls. Another wore a dark red suit that complemented his golden blond hair, while yet another in royal blue had a mane of curly black hair that gave him a youthful, almost boyish charm. The man in the maroon suit possessed a quiet intensity, his dark, focused eyes flickering toward her as she approached. Finally, there was the one in white, a stark contrast to the others, with black hair cropped in a short, rugged style that softened the sharp lines of his jaw. Each one wore cufflinks of either gold or silver, a small but telling sign of their individual tastes.
Darla waited a respectful moment, allowing them to finish a round of banter before she stepped in. Her presence slowly quieted the conversation as they turned to look at her, a mixture of curiosity and amusement in their gazes. The man in the red suit, his eyes a deep amber that seemed to hold an amused glint, leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over her with slow, calculated appraisal. There was an intensity in their eyes that made her skin prickle, as though these men were assessing her with a depth that went beyond her appearance.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Darla greeted, her voice smooth and practiced, giving nothing away. "May I take your drink orders?"
The man with the red suit grinned, his gaze never wavering. "Well, well. They certainly are hiring a higher caliber of staff these days." His voice was rich and smooth, laced with something almost playful as he exchanged a quick look with the others. They murmured to each other, and though Darla couldn't make out the words, she could sense that her presence had intrigued them.
The man in black with tousled red hair raised an eyebrow, his expression more serious than the others'. "Where are you from, darling?" he asked, his tone somewhere between idle curiosity and genuine interest.
"Far from here," she replied coolly, choosing her words carefully. She knew that revealing too much would only make her vulnerable, and this was not the type of crowd to underestimate. These men were not merely wealthy; there was something else in their presence that made them powerful, like predators wrapped in the luxury of their surroundings. She met his gaze evenly, holding her own against the intensity of his stare.
Another man, this one in a sleek maroon suit, chuckled softly, tapping his fingers against his glass. "Mysterious, are we?" He leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a murmur as he added, "You'll fit right in here."
As they exchanged glances, Darla took her opportunity to study them more closely, noting the differences that set them apart from any men she'd encountered in her previous life. They were all unusually handsome, with features almost too refined to be human. Despite the finery of their clothes, each man exuded a subtle but undeniable air of danger.
It was then that she noticed another peculiarity: their skin, pale to the point of being nearly luminescent under the dim candlelight. She'd seen pallor before, of course, but there was a vitality in these men's eyes, a gleam that defied any notion of frailty or weakness. Her suspicions stirred uneasily as she glanced at the man in the blue suit, whose eyes seemed to sharpen as though he'd caught her observation.
"What can I get you, gentlemen?" she asked, smoothly redirecting the conversation.
One of the men in black cleared his throat, tapping his wooden pipe thoughtfully before answering. "A round of your finest red," he said, his voice deep and commanding.
Darla made a note of their order and inclined her head slightly, maintaining her calm demeanor even as they continued to watch her with scrutiny. She could feel their gazes trailing her as she turned to leave, but she refused to let herself falter under their gaze. These men—whatever they were—didn't intimidate her. She'd learned to handle powerful men before, and she would learn to handle them here as well.
As she walked back to the bar, she heard a faint chuckle behind her, one of the men murmuring something she couldn't quite catch. She focused on each step, her mind whirring as she tried to piece together the strange puzzle she'd encountered. These men were wealthy, certainly, but there was something else about them, something dangerous and ancient that set them apart from the world of mortals.
Reaching the bar, she placed the order and took a deep breath, steadying herself. Whatever these men were, they were not to be underestimated, and she would need to tread carefully. As she waited for the drinks to be prepared, she thought of her long-term plans, the alliances she would have to forge, and the enemies she would inevitably make.
Her first night on the Silver floor had barely begun, and already she could sense the layers of intrigue, danger, and power that swirled around her. It was a game—one she was used to from her previous life—and she was more than ready to play. As she picked up the drinks to return to the table, she straightened her back, her eyes flickering with resolve.
Tonight, she would set the stage for her survival, and perhaps, if she was clever enough, her eventual escape.