Holy Moly, what a response! Thanks for everyone who has reviewed and favorited and followed, it means a lot to me, especially being my first Everlark fic. I love all you you lovely people. No smut in this one but I'll add some in the next chapter. I've decided that I'm going to try and update every Wednesday so make sure you watch out for next week! Come find me on tumblr at tributeforthewolfpack

Katniss' POV

I woke up the next morning after having the strangest dream. An angelic man with a type of bread for a name had offered me four grand for my company for the entire week; four grand plus money for shopping and a week's stay at a swanky hotel that I had no business being in. I stretched, my body gliding over the silky sheets, too bad it was only a dream.

I shot straight up, dislodging the sheet and duvet from my naked chest and looked around. It wasn't a dream, not at all. The spot next to me is cold and doesn't seem like Peeta ever came to bed. I gave him head as an initiative to join me in the bedroom for a late night romp but had obviously fallen asleep waiting for him to finish whatever work needs to be done.

When Peeta offered me the large sum of money, I had just assumed that sex would be a part of it; I am a prostitute after all. What if I didn't do a good job giving Peeta a blow job and he was just being nice? I'm fairly new in the business, about a month in, and I'm not that experienced in everything sexual. I know my basics, my roommate Johanna, taught me all she could. She's been on the streets for almost five years now having started right after her eighteenth birthday.

My thoughts are interrupted by the wonderful smell of breakfast. I debate whether I should venture out of the bedroom or if I should wait until Peeta comes in and asks me to do something for him. My curiosity gets the best of me and I'm bounding off the bed, only stopping to pick up the robe that I dropped when I entered the bedroom last night and shrug it on, then set out to find the luxurious smell. Maybe if I give Peeta head again, and if do better, he'll give me some.

"Morning sleepy head," Peeta smiles at me with a frying pan and spatula in hand. He's bare-chested with pajama bottoms hung low on his hips. Peeta is quite a beautiful piece of work, like art; perfectly sculpted out of the finest material.

"Morning, what time is it?" I ask suddenly afraid that I've overslept.

"A bit after nine," he says nonchalantly. "I was going to wake you once I finished with breakfast. I have a few meetings and have to leave soon so I will not be able to go shopping with you today. However I have arranged for a very special person to accompany to while you're out," he grins as if he's hiding something.

"Oh, okay. Thank you," I say as I awkwardly rock back and forth on the balls of my feet.

I take a seat at the breakfast bar and stare at Peeta's toned back while he busies himself with all of the pots and pans that clutter the large stove. The silence is weird at first but I quickly get lost in Peeta's movements and how fluidly he moves about the kitchen as if it's second nature.

"I wasn't sure what you liked so I went ahead and made some of my favorites," Peeta said while transferring mounds of different types of food onto different plates and ushers me into the dining room where he lays them out in front of a seat that is intended to be mine.

"I've never seen so much food in my life," I say in awe.

Peeta laughs lightly but doesn't say anything as he fills my champagne flute with equal parts orange juice and champagne and sits next to me at the head of the table.

"Where should I start?" I ask for his suggestion.

"Well these," he points to a pile of buns sitting close to me, "are cheese buns and they are good anytime of the day. I suggest those, especially since they just came out of the oven and still soft."

I take a bite of one and moan loudly getting a cheeky grin from Peeta. "You made these?"

Peeta nods. "Yeah, my dad owned a bakery so it's in my blood."

I finish the cheese bun in another two bites then begin filling my plate with an assortment of breakfast foods. I engorge myself, not able to stop myself from continuing to fill my mouth even after my stomach begins to feel full.

Peeta has already excused himself to shower and prepare himself for his meeting when there is a knock on the door. I don't think Peeta heard it, so I take it upon myself to answer it.

Behind the door stands an eccentric woman, and that's saying a lot coming from the business I'm in. She's dressed in the brightest pink skirt with matching blazer and a frilly, patterned top poking out from underneath. Her shoes are incredibly high and pointed, and I'm pretty sure they would be classified as a deadly weapon if you tried to board a plane.

"You must be Katniss," she says in a sophisticated sing-song voice. "I'm Effie."

I let her in just as Peeta comes strolling out of the master bedroom looking very dapper in his crisp grey suit. "Oh Effie, you're here."

"I've just arrived. You look absolutely dashing. Is that something that I picked out?"

"I'm afraid not, this is from a new store called Cinna. I'd like you to take Katniss there today, tell them that Peeta sent you. He'll be expecting you. I'm running behind so I'll see you for our dinner tonight at seven, please be ready and waiting for me," Peeta kisses my cheek goodbye before bidding Effie a farewell.

I get dressed and when Effie see's my outfit, she's disgusted, exclaiming how nobody with a brain should be wearing such an outfit. I tempt to lengthen my skirt by pulling on it both ways but it doesn't work and Effie lets out a large huff before ushering me into the elevator.

Effie has a town car waiting for us at the front of the hotel. The driver turns around and gives me somewhat of a condescending smile. "Hello Sweetheart."

"That's Haymitch," Effie explains, "the drunken buffoon that he is."

"Not drunk, just slightly buzzed," Haymitch laughs and puts the car into drive.

I buckle my seatbelt and pray to all of the Gods that we make wherever we're headed in one piece. I know that Peeta and I don't exactly know each other but how in the world could he expect someone to get in the back of a car with a drunk behind the wheel? He must not know, and I'll certainly be telling him later, granted if I live.

It turns out Haymitch is a good driver, better than I Peeta was the first time I saw him coming down the street barely in second gear. We pull up in front of a plain looking building front compared to the rest of the designer stores on the street. Haymitch parks in the middle of the street only to get out opening the door for Effie and myself then open the store door before getting back into the town car and driving away.

A dark skinned lady with bleach blonde curls greets us. "Welcome to Cinna, I'm Portia is there anything I can help you with today?" I can see her eyeing my clothing then giving me a tight smile.

"Yes," Effie uses her ridiculous sing-song voice. "Peeta Mellark sent us; he says that you'd be expecting us."

"Oh yes of course," Portia excused herself to the backroom that is blocked off by thick gold curtains. She emerges moments later with another dark skinned man trailing behind her dressed in simple clothing compared to Portia's tight body-con dress and shoes that match Effie's.

"Ms. Trinket it's wonderful to meet you, I'm Cinna," the man takes Effie's dainty hand in his, raising it to his lips to kiss knuckles. "Peeta told me you'd be stopping in today. He says that he has someone special that requires my best work for tonight. You must be the lovely Katniss."

I giggle girlishly as Cinna kisses my knuckles as well. Up close I can see the gold flecks in his brown eyes and the thin line of gold eyeliner that makes those flecks pop. "I don't know anything about fashion but the suit that you made Peeta is lovely."

"Thank you, Portia helped me a lot on it," he motioned behind him and Portia smiled bashfully. "She has a wonderful eye for men's fashion. I on the other hand, find that my best work is women's wear, especially if the woman that is wearing my design is a beautiful as you. Come, I'll show you some of my lately creations."

I follow Cinna behind the gold curtain and into his 'studio'. At first I am daunted by all of the half-finished clothing pieces that are sewn on mannequins and the story high wall that is littered with drawings and fabric swatches. We enter another room, much smaller and closed off from the rest of the studio. Inside are dozens of outfits anywhere from ball gowns to the undergarments that go under it.

"I've been working on this collection for a long time now but every model I try it on, it doesn't look how I envision it and when Peeta e-mailed me a quick description of you and claimed that you needed a new wardrobe for some of the charity events you'll be attending, I couldn't help but get hopeful."

I run a piece of fabric from one of the blouses between my fingers, it feels so luxurious. "It's beautiful. I don't know how these wouldn't look good on anybody."

"Thank you. Would you like to try some on?"

I spend a good hour being stripped out of one article of clothing and fitted for another but I don't mind because everything is absolutely beautiful and Cinna is relaxing unlike Effie who fusses about everything. I can see why her driver drinks now. I find a cocktail dress for tonight that doesn't need any altering and looks like Cinna designed it for me in mind.

It's a body forming dress with long sleeves and the neckline that just swoops down past the collarbone and has zero back to it and stops low mid-thigh. It's layered in a fine lace that needs a magnifying glass to see the detail in a soft orange color. Most of the outfits are hues of red, yellows, and oranges with splashes of greens and blues, Cinna came up with the designs one night by the campfire and became inspired by the fire and wilderness around it.

"You're my Girl on Fire," Cinna smiles as he steps back to admire his work.

I look at myself in the mirror and my eyes widen. I'm pretty. I've never felt pretty before, always plain and sometimes rather ugly. I barely recognize myself, I don't have the normal scowl I'm known for plastered on my face. I'm smiling, glowing, feminine. I don't look like the hooker that I really am. I look like I fit in at the Ritz, even if it's just for a little while.

A prep team that go by the ridiculous names of Flavius, Octavia, and Venia help me get ready for the dinner tonight with Peeta and his business associates. They scrub me down with different rubs, lather me with rich butters, highlight my key features with different make up, and set my hair in loose curls, giving me the illusion that I always look like this.

Effie had given me a crash course on dining etiquette when I asked what the differences between the forks were for. She acted as if I asked her who was on the dollar bill, or something with just as much common sense as that. My cutlery consists of plastic and my fingers, not different pronged and sized forks.

I'm early so I wait at the bar for Peeta to arrive, hopefully soon because I'm famished; I had forgotten to eat the rest of the day. I notice him before he notices me. I watch as Peeta scans the room and when his eyes finally meet mine, he looks star struck.

"Katniss, you look stunning," he breathes out in awe. "Not that I didn't think you looked before but wow," he corrects himself.

He's still wearing his grey suit, but he's changed his tie and pocket square to match the color of my dress. "And you're still looking very handsome."

Peeta laces our fingers together and guides me outside where a familiar town car waits for us. Haymitch is waiting inside with that same grin he had before."

"Evening Sweetheart," he tells me then greets Peeta. "Boy."

"Hello Haymitch, did you have a nice afternoon?" Peeta asked politely once we pulled off of hotel property.

"Fuck no," Haymitch sneers. "You don't pay me enough to be that witch's personal driver."

"She's not that bad," Peeta tries to say.

I fail at stifling a laugh and Peeta looks at me, Haymitch finding my eyes in the rearview mirror.

"What?" Peeta smiles.

"I agree with Haymitch," I say quietly.

"She's very good at keeping me looking good in the public eye, so I have no problem with her."

Peeta steers the conversation into what I need to know about the clients we'll be meeting tonight. From what I gather, Snow and his partner Crane are business enemies with Peeta's partner Alma Coin, who has been trying to liquidate their companies for years. Peeta says that Snow and Crane are shady business men and the companies they own are full of dirty money and Peeta wants to expose them, then buy their company and sell the pieces for profit. But that doesn't sound very clean either, he's just thinking about the paycheck at the end of the road and not the thousands of people that will be out of a job if things go his way. I don't tell him my opinions though, I'm just here because Peeta needs someone disposable on his arm, and you can't get any more disposable than someone that sells their body for a quick buck.

This is the type of restaurant that doesn't even showcase their prices because it's so expensive. But I don't have to worry about the menu because Peeta has ordered for us before we even got here. Even with my new exterior, I feel out of place. I can feel the tables of businessmen and socialites alike giving me disapproving looks from across the dimly lit room.

When the salad comes, I forget everything that Effie tried to teach me. "Which one is the salad fork?" I try to whisper to Peeta.

Seneca Crane, a man with a pattern shaved into his thick, black beard laughs from across the room. "That's what I'm wondering," he says and picks up a random fork to stab the dark pieces of lettuce. I can see Snow rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Peeta is itching to start talking business, we've had two courses and have only managed to talk about Peeta's flight and which fork to use. "So, have you had a chance to go over the proposal?"

"I threw it away," Snow says in a simple voice.

I thought Peeta was going to have an aneurysm. He clenched and unclenched his fists against his thighs while trying to maintain a straight face. "Why did you do that?" Peeta asks in a strangled voice.

"Because Mr. Mellark, I have a different proposal, one that could benefit the both of us quite nicely," Snow gave Peeta a snake-like smile, twisted and cold.

"And what does this beneficial proposal pertain?" Peeta only looks slightly intrigued.

"I know that you have a business contract with Alma Coin that states various things about loyalty and commitment to one another, it's very cute really, but I also know that is contract of sorts is going to be up for negotiation shortly. I also know that you and Ms. Coin have a very different view of how to get things done, am I right?"

"If you're asking me to stop doing business with Alma and join you, I've got sorry news for you."

"Maybe so but have a look over for yourself," Crane magically produces a thick packet of paper. "I think you'll find this to your benefit. It was a pleasure meeting you, Katniss."

Snow and Crane stand, as do Peeta and I, bow their heads slightly and start for the exit without so much as a single glance back. I steal a look at Peeta who is fuming.

"Come on, we're leaving," Peeta takes me by the crook of my elbow, snatches the stack of papers and almost drags me out of the restaurant.

I try to make conversation in the car but Peeta won't have at, only giving me one word answers or a sneer of hot breath. When we get to the hotel he tells me to go up to the hotel and I watch as he makes his way to the bar.

It's well after midnight before I am startled back by Peeta stumbling into the bedroom. He toes off his dress shoes, pushing down his slacks and kicking them across the room, throws off his jacket, yanks his tie off of his neck before unbutton his shirt and crawling into bed in only his boxer briefs and white undershirt.

I can smell the alcohol on Peeta's breath, he's not drunk but if he had another drink or two he would be. He's still mad, I can see it by the way he's staring up at the ceiling and not taking notice in my black silk chemise with lace detailing and matching panties that I got from Cinna.

I don't know why, but I hate seeing Peeta like this. I don't even know this guy but the sight of seeing him upset is unsettling to me. "When I'm with a client, I don't kiss them on the mouth," I whisper to take his mind off of whatever he's thinking about.

"Why not?"

"It's too personal."

"Sex is personal."

"No it's not, it's a business transaction."

"It's sad that you think that."

"I'm a prostitute, I have to think that, or I'll get swallowed alive."

Peeta goes quiet as if he's mulling over what I've said. "Why did you become a prostitute? I mean I thought all hookers were on drugs or had pimps that beat them, you don't look like the crack type or like you have a pimp."

I don't want to answer this question. I've never told anyone why I've gone into this business before, not even Johanna, and I tell her a lot. Some things are better left unshared, hidden and locked away in the darkest part of your mind where only your nightmares can reach them.

"You don't have to tell me. I just want to get to know you better," he offers.

"My name is Katniss Everdeen, I'm twenty-one, and I'm pretty good with a bow," I tell him the three most basic facts about my existence.

"I'm Peeta Mellark, I'm twenty-eight, and I'm good at breaking apart businesses and selling the pieces for profit."

"Don't forget that you're good in the kitchen," I smile at the recent memory of all the wonderful food Peeta made me this morning; hopefully he does it again tomorrow.

"Yeah, can't forget that," he mutters.

We're quiet again and Peeta goes back to thinking about whatever is bothering him and I'm back to thinking of ways I can make him forget.

"Peeta," I whisper in the dark.

"Yeah?"

"You can use me to forget, if you want," I offer him my body; the one thing I know will get him to forget no matter how brief.

So he does, rolling towards me and going straight for the skin on my neck, remembering that I don't kiss on the lips, because Peeta is only a client and that would be too personal.