The Master's Fledgling

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Within ten seconds of stepping into the Moroi Casino, Anastasia Colleoni knew with absolute certainty that she was in over her head.

For one, there was an old, papery-skinned butler with a sickly grey pallor to his skin, who escorted her into the building with the most spot on, impeccable English manners she had ever witnessed. His voice was thin, wispy as if his lungs were hardly working, but he offered her a quick smile and seemed like an 'alright' sort of fellow. He wore a spotless black suit, with black pleated slacks, a starched white tailored waistcoat, a high collar around which rested a deep gold tie, and over everything he even had a long-tailed suit jacket and trim white gloves. On the button of his waistcoat, he carried an old-fashioned pocket watch, which he promptly checked as soon as they paused inside the foyer. He looked ever the part of a Victorian-era gentleman, seemingly fitting with the Gothic-inspired theme that carried throughout the main lobby. The only thing missing was aviator goggles attached to a tall top-hat, otherwise his outfit could have passed as a Steampunk Butler costume from a ComicCon convention occurring at the Sands Convention Center across the street.

The man, who introduced himself as Charles Langley, led her through the lobby towards the room where she would be interviewed. His steps were measured and slow, as if hesitant to bring her to her destination. She took that time to get a good feel of the place she would hopefully be working in. 

"That's if, my slight tardiness didn't already make up the person's mind." Anastasia worried silently. She was usually never late. Punctuality was important to her, especially because her life was pretty much completely controlled by the time of day. If she lallygagged, even the tiniest bit, it set back her entire routine. In her unfortunate circumstance, she couldn't afford to take the scenic routes- which included affording herself a work break, or an extended lunch, or even a moment or two to talk to a co-worker out of work. She had learned the hard way, that if she didn't keep a tight rein on her schedule, she'd end up forced to drive home with a face-full of sun that even her draped hood couldn't spare her from. And sunlight was nothing but pain.

Luckily for her, there were no such windows or direct sunlight filtering into the casino. It was then, after moving to the side of the entryway, which great double doors consisted of deep-stained red wood, that she chose to finally relieve herself of the suffocating coverings that prevented her from burning in the sun. Under her knee-length, hooded trench coat, her ensemble was much more elegant. She chose today to wear a deep grey, boatneck cashmere dress, with a black corset belt cinched at her waist, that reached the bottom of her knees, along with solid black tights underneath and low-heeled, black ankle boots. She stored her leather gloves into her large purse, alongside her crisp, newly printed resume that sat pretty in it's blue plastic spreadsheet folder. Nico Constantin, her oldest friend and mentor in Las Vegas, had reassured her that his recommendation was enough to get her the job, but she almost didn't want it to be. 

Most of her life, things had been handed to her on a silver platter. Her father, once an Olympic triathlete and the son of a wealthy, Italian immigrant businessman, doted on Anastasia for the first seven years of her life. When she showed athletic potential, especially in the same sport he loved, she became his favorite person. 

I was his little protege, the apple of his eye, so practically nothing had been withheld from me. Anastasia reflected with a pang of longing. She and her dad had been close, practically partners through all of her greatest achievements. Her first word as a baby had been "Dadda", and she had learned to run almost as soon as she began walking. Even when my four brothers were born, I still held his favor.