Belcourt was known to the Kingdom of Sutherland to be a prominent orphanage for young girls.

And it was also known to rear the most dangerous beauties—the Belles, the only moniker people knew of all Belcourt ladies.

They did not know the truth, however. Not the entire truth, that is, for they were quite right about the Belles, young ladies from Belcourt who came into their towns to live a good life with the best faculties that Belcourt was responsible for. They were trained to entertain through music, acting, and most of all, seduction.

For the people outside of Belcourt, all children in Belcourt were Belles, the only name they knew ladies of Belcourt to be. They were the kind of women other ladies were wary of—even despised. They stole their husbands, fiancés, and anything else that desired them within or outside their premises.

The people did not know that the Belles came from just a small fraction that comprised the entire Belcourt. They were ignorant of the existence of the other courts as they only knew of the orphanage, the façade of Belcourt. And they only knew of the women—the Belles—who came out of Belcourt, threatening their society, calling themselves ladies, as if they were titled.

Pretentious little wenches, some would say. Ambitious, others would agree.

They were children of bad blood; daughters of the lowest stations; bastards of men who made a mistake; or of women who were so naïve and careless.

Unwanted children raised to be wanted by men.

Yet they were addressed as ladies because that was how Belles were addressed—because Belcourt said so. And because the kingdom never bothered to correct them. And because they all lived in lavish villas fit for a lady of good social standing.

Sasha stared blankly at the edifice before her.

Its wide façade exuded elegance, grace, and innocence.

She was not elegant. She was not graceful either.

But she was innocent.

No one knew that. She was not expected to be innocent, not when she was a Belle.

The cold winter wind blew against her, causing a shiver up her spine.

What had she done to deserve this?

Many other ladies from the other courts would question her reaction, for she knew most had dreamed to be a Belle, to be in the Court of Flowers. Who wouldn't?

Unlike the others, Belles had the best gowns. They owned their villa outside of Belcourt. They graced balls and social functions. They had servants. They had a life outside the walls of the vast Belcourt estate.

No one seemed to care that they had to pay with their virtues so long as they could be a part of society again, the very same society that shunned them one way or another.

Sasha never wanted to return to society because here the world was harsh.

It was unforgiving.

It was real.

Any fantasies she had after Belcourt opened its doors for her that one rainy evening fifteen years ago was just recently shattered, piecing itself back together into this white edifice standing tall and elegant before her. Inside were more elegance, she knew that.

She would have a staff of people provided for her by Belcourt, from Belcourt, ready to do her bidding as their mistress.

She would have her maid.

She had her horse and carriage.

But this villa was a prison.

She could not do any of her research here. There would be no rooms or halls of books for her to consume. No subjects to test, presenting her problems to burn her candles down to the base at night. There would be nothing here but a fabricated life. Here, she was naught but a lady from Belcourt, one who was just set free from the orphanage to start a new life, and for most people who had very little knowledge of Belcourt, that life would be filled with sin and lust and greed. They were opportunistic, insensitive whores, others would say. And to some, they were of free spirits, of free reign.

But that was farther from the truth. Her life was still owned by Belcourt just like every other Belle around the kingdom.

Not that Sasha hated owing her life to Belcourt.

In fact, she would gladly give the rest of it to Belcourt.

But not here. Not outside.

Not in this place she escaped from fifteen years ago.

Sasha squared her shoulders.

"Lady Sasha!" the woman's voice coming from the double doors of the villa draw Sasha back to where she was and why she was here. She recoiled at the title. Would she ever get used to it? No, never.

She looked at the brown-haired woman skipping the steps down to meet her excitedly, her brown eyes glimmering, her square jaw stretching to the side as her full lips broke into a wider grin. "Iyana, you do not have to address me as such," she said, smiling gently at a dear friend.

Iyana was a good friend back at the Common Court. As girls of the same age, they both had to endure and enjoy many things. The days they were filled with dreams of turning eighteen, eager to leave behind the schooling and the strict rules of the Common Court and live their lives as true ladies of Belcourt, came flooding in.

Iyana had been courted six months before Sasha was. It was a surprise to many that her friend landed in the Court of Service, the least favorite of the young girls in the orphanage. Yet, Iyana seemed fine. She seemed... was content the right term?

"You should know that I was ecstatic to learn I shall be serving you," said Iyana, taking her hand. "Oh, Lady Sasha, it is a surprise! You were re-courted! How in the name of—no matter, let us come inside. It is freezing out here! What are you doing out here in the cold!"

Trying to see if it's cold enough to freeze me to death, Sasha silently replied as Iyana pulled her up the steps and into the warmth of her villa.

Her villa.

Belcourt's villa.

Iyana reached out to free Sasha of her red cloak. "It is red," Iyana said in a teasing tone. "Mine is still black."

Iyana laughed at Sasha's horrified look. "It is not funny, Iyana. Your court is—"

"I love my court, Lady Sasha."

She groaned. "Will you stop calling me that? We are friends!"

"Oh, we are, but you are my mistress now. The Court of Service is devoted to whomever they serve."

"And that is not I. It is Belcourt we serve. And to be called a lady is rather ambitious and pretentious, wouldn't you agree? I am no lady."

"Belcourt wishes me to serve you and since I serve Belcourt as you say, then I shall do what Belcourt says and serve you as my mistress. And you are a lady. You are Belcourt's lady—a Belle!"

Sasha sighed. "If that is how things work in your court, I have no choice but to accept it. Like how I accepted my turn of fate."

"One that is exciting!" Iyana said, jumping at the last word. "Now, would you like to have a tour around your villa, or would you rather have some hot tea and biscuits?"

"I believe tea and biscuits can wait."

Sasha nodded and put away her red cloak. "Come with me then."

Sasha allowed Iyana to tour her around the villa, into the parlor, the drawing room, the kitchen where she met the other staff, all of whom she was familiar with from her days in Belcourt, and all of whom regarded her as a true mistress. Was that how the other ladies saw Belles? Their mistress?

Was Sasha the only one who had a different opinion on the Belles, the overly augmented bunch of ladies in Belcourt? Weren't the other courts more worthy of such high regard?

She was taken upstairs to a guest room, a small library that barely had any books, and finally her bedchamber.

It was grand. She had her own back at the Library, but never this large.

Giant windows lined one side of the room, giving way for sunlight to shine on the humongous four-poster bed in the middle, and the sight nearly made her faint. It could fit five people, but she knew it was there for a different reason other than providing Sasha with a night of good sleep.

The white lace curtains tied to the four vertical columns of the bed offered no privacy. It was there to tease, to give a hint of a promising night. One she was expected to give a man.

Her stomach churned at the thought.

Tearing her eyes off the bed, she turned to Iyana who was looking at her with concern.

"Lady Sasha, are you all right? You lost color."

"I am quite fine," Sasha said, forcing a smile. "Now, tea and biscuits?"

"Of course!" Iyana said, turning to leave.

Sasha threw the bed another look.

She was told before she left that he was coming tonight.

How could she ever be ready?

*****

Iyana seemed to know what was about to come—who was about to come.

That night, after a good meal, the woman prepared a bath with scented soap and warm water. She insisted on scrubbing Sasha's back and was insistent that she stay in the water longer so the lilac scent of the soap stayed on her skin.

And as Sasha dried herself, Iyana laid out her finest gown, one Sasha spared for rare special occasions in Belcourt.

Iyana sighed as she stared at the blue gown. "This will have to do," she said, "but you must make certain to set out for your fittings by the morrow. I believe someone will come and assist you with that. This gown is the best amongst the ones in your possession, but it surely is not good enough for tonight.

Sasha remained silent as Iyana helped her with her gown. Did she need a corset?

"Too tight," she told Iyana.

"Not tight enough," the woman replied as she tugged at the strings with a grunt.

"You are killing me, Iyana!"

"There! Done!" Iyana said, turning her around to face the mirror. "We ought to do something with your hair."

"I am going to bed after tonight's... event. I do not need my hair done."

Iyana's eyes widened. "Whatever do you mean? Ridiculous, Lady Sasha. Of course, you need your hair done! The gown is not enough to save you tonight. Well, unless he does not wish to keep it on your person, that is."

Sasha flushed at Iyana's bold remark.

Iyana chuckled. "Oh, you ought to have stayed longer in the Court of Flowers before setting out here. You blush at the slightest naughty notions!"

"I have the same concerns," she said, taking a breath and finding that she could still do so with the tight corset. "I would need a decade in the Court of Flowers before being sired a Belle."

"Silly. Being a woman does not need a lot of training. And a Belle is a woman. You only need to be yourself, Lady Sasha." A look of concern crossed Iyana's face. "But please, pray tell, do you still suffer from fainting spells?"

"I would if you do not loosen my corset."

Iyana chuckled. "You will be fine. But the fainting spells?"

"I shall be fine," she lied. She hated lying. She was trained to never lie. That was the most important thing to being in the Court of Libraries. No research is fruitful with a lie.

"Good. Then I shall leave you be." Iyana started for the door and then stopped. "But do remember one thing—scream."

"Scream?"

"If he ever forces you into anything that inclines you to feel threatened in any way, scream. We shall all be up until the moment he leaves."

Sasha moistened her lips. It just occurred to her that the villa was filled by women, all of whom from Belcourt. No men to protect them.

But surely they did not need a man's protection.

Or would they?

Should they?

She squared her shoulders. "Be gone, Iyana."

Iyana nodded.

"Iyana—wait." Sasha looked at her friend. "Where should I wait?"

The woman smiled. "Where else?"

"Here?"

"Are you silly? Who receives a visitor in their bedchamber? You wait in the parlor, of course!"

*****

Sasha could not keep still as she waited.

She was not given the time of his arrival.

Nor was she advised on what to do on this first meeting.

Everything was in haste the moment she regained consciousness yesterday. Neither of the Mistresses was there when she came about. Her bags were packed. And she was ushered into a carriage the very next day which was today.

And now she was expected to meet the man.

She did not even know his name!

Did the Court of Flowers run out of Belles? Why did they pluck a new one from another court?

She stood up to pace around the carpeted floors of the parlor. She hated how elegant they looked against her worn-out silk slippers. She hated how the blue floral embellishments were brighter than her gown.

Sasha crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at the paneled wall before her. It was blank. Had anyone not thought that books were good decorations, if not useful? Fools, she thought.

At the thought of books, she walked out of the parlor and went up the stairs to the study. If the man was purposely being tardy, she needed a book to at least believe she was not wasting her time.

She picked a random one. Anything would be interesting at the state she was in. She needed distractions.

She rushed out of the library and opened the book down the corridor. Then she stopped. She closed it again to check the title.

Untitled. Nothing but plain red cover.

She opened it again and frowned at the first sentence.

Her eyes widened. Color rushed to her face.

This was... this book ought to be burned!

She scanned the pages, not fully aware that she was slowly making her way back to the parlor, fully scandalized and enthralled by the images before her.

Drawings of men and women in various states of copulation, each position worse than the last.

She bit her lower lip to muffle her gasp on the next page.

A man's head between a pair of legs—this book was from the devil, surely!

She snapped the book closed and whirled around, intending to return it to the library. No, she had to hide it. No, burn it! Yes, she ought to do that—

"And where are you off to again?"

Sasha froze at the voice.

A shiver ran up her spine. The hairs at the back of her neck stood erect.

Fifteen years. It had been fifteen years since she had heard a man's voice.

Her heart raced.

"I asked a question. Where are you off to again?"

The annoyance in his voice snapped Sasha back to her senses. She blinked and stiffly turned around. She had not realized that she had reached the parlor and was just on her way out.

And inside, in the middle of the room was him.

A stranger. And a fuming one at that.

Her bluish-gray eyes even refused to blink at his presence for as much as she Sasha did not want to admit it, the man was not worthy of a blink.

He was tall. The top of her head would fall on his shoulder.

His brown hair curled in big waves with some locks lighter where the light touched. His bristled chin accentuated his sharp jaw. At one look, one would think he was harmless, but she had already heard him speak and his tone did not promise anything innocent. And she had taken a second look and the way his thick straight brows dipped inward and the angry glint in his light blue eyes gave Sasha a glimpse of what this man could be—arrogant and condescending.

And mysterious.

The air around him was painted with it she could almost see it.

She had to tread carefully here.

But how?

Her hand tightened around the book as her heart raced against her ribcage.

She moistened her lips.

She might faint soon, she feared.

It would not be a surprise.

"I was not informed I was paired to a deaf." His cold, icy tone embodied the snow outside. "Or are you perhaps a mute?"

Sasha's ears began to ring. No, she was not fainting, she was sure of that now. She was actually starting to boil with anger. It was not his words. She had heard harsher ones before. It was his tone and the way he looked at her.

It was the animosity in his eyes, the prejudice in his voice.

"It would be a great pleasure if I was," she replied, willing her voice not to shake, "for I would rather have a conversation with a mouse than the one standing before me."

His thick brows raised ever so slightly before she saw one eye twitch.

If this was the man Belcourt wanted her to service, Sasha would hang herself. And if he wished to be serviced, he would have to expect being served with tea by her every day for that was the only service she was willing to give him.

"I see that you are easily offended," he said, his voice the same, his tone similar. "I did not mean to."

"You look at me, sir, as though you were offended." She cocked a brow high. "Were you expecting someone better, perhaps?"

A hint of a smile.

Oh, the devil knew how to smile. Famous!

Then it was gone as he spoke. "I had very little expectations before I came."

Sasha suddenly felt lost. How must she proceed? Surely, she could not just ask him to leave. He was her flower—her gentleman. He must have paid a large sum to be paired with a Belle.

Iyana said she simply needed to be a woman. Well, if she had her way, she would be upstairs reading a book. Not the one in her hand, of course, but something more interesting.

And Sasha was almost quite certain that was not how Belles treated their flowers. These gentlemen had expectations.

But he said he had very little, a small voice whispered in her ear.

"Very well," Sasha said, lifting her chin in a haughty way she saw some Belles would do during one of her afternoon walks back in Belcourt. "So, did I. I had lesser expectations. As a Belle should be," she added, biting out the last words.

Good lord, she must have had lesser expectations indeed, for she did not expect this man to be... to be arrogant and cold and mysterious and... sinfully beautiful.

Or mayhap he was not arrogant and it was she who was being controlled by prejudice. She barely knew him. Had she not been interested in the human mind? She knew from her failed trials one consistent thing: one could never judge someone by first impressions.

His gaze fell on the book in her hand. Sasha immediately hid it behind her and cleared her throat. "Do forgive me," she said, walking inside the parlor. She did not have to fear this man. She was the Belle. He was the flower. "Please, have a seat."

He looked at the posh red settee, stared at it for a moment before he turned to face her. "I shall not be long. I was instructed to show myself tonight for a formal introduction."

Sasha's brows twitched high a notch at the realization. Of course! "Again, do forgive my manners. I am not used to formal introductions—very well," she cleared her throat once more and offered a very clumsy and awkward curtsy. "Sasha from Belcourt. Lady Sasha for you, sir."

His brow cocked at the title she gave herself. "No other name?"

There is one, was her silent reply, but one I do not need. "In Belcourt, we only have our first names."

He nodded once, gauging her again with judging eyes. What was he thinking? Was he disappointed? She was in her best gown, was she not? Her thick dark brown hair intricately made by Iyana earlier, with pearl pins at that. Or perhaps she was not just pretty enough? That could be it.

"West," he said, finally speaking.

Sasha frowned. Did he wish her to face to her left so he could judge the rest of her profile?

"My name. It is West."

"No title attached?"

"I would rather keep the title with me."

So, he is titled.

Sasha started to grow uncomfortable. He was staring at her too openly, judging her with his eyes, probably trying to convince himself that she was all right.

"Sir," she said, breaking the silence. This was too bloody awkward. "Do you not like what you see?"

He blinked and finally, she saw a different reaction on his face. He frowned in confusion. "Why the question?"

"You stare at me as though you are considering demanding your money back. Belcourt never gives back what you give it, but it can provide you with what you wish if you give it a good reason to. And if you wish for a different Belle, we can try to arrange that." Sasha honestly did not know if that was possible, but they could always try. Belcourt did not always have to be right. A match between a Belle and a flower would not always have to be perfect, would it?

Sasha did not realize she had been holding her breath until he shook his head.

"No." The words echoed around the still room. "You would have to do."

Sasha blinked and her mouth fell.

You would have to do?

Now, if that was not condescending and arrogant. Sasha could only scoff, staring at him with mouth half-open.

"I shall take my leave, my lady" he said, putting on his coat that she did not notice had been hanging in his arm, giving emphasis on the last two words as if to mock her. She let it slide for she understood quite well how someone like him, someone with a title, found the idea of a woman giving herself an empty title when it was least deserving. And she was still preoccupied with his last statement to even bother. You will have to do?

"I will see you once you have properly settled. I was informed that you have just moved in."

He walked away and out of her sight, silent as the dead of the night.

You would have to do?

His words rang in her mind over and over again until she finally let out a snarl.

You would have to do?

The bloody bastard!

He would not be seeing her again, Sasha swore. If she were to be a Belle, she would make everything in her power that that man would not be her first flower.