The King and the Courtesan (40 page)

His eyes studied mine. “Are you afraid of me, Melissa?”

I might be punished if I lied and said no. But I might be punished even more for saying yes.

“Sometimes,” I answered, which was as close and yet as far away from the truth as I could get.

His thumb swept farther back my neck, until it rested on the lobe of my ear, next to my earring. It was one of the few things from last night that survived. “I treat you like a princess, and yet, you’re still afraid?”

“You’re not exactly a cuddly guy.”

My answer escaped before I could stop it, but Ezekiel smiled slightly, the closest I’d seen to a real grin in a month. It didn’t comfort me. Not when Ezekiel’s hands were so close to my throat.

“Discipline,” he told me, “is not cruelty. Cruelty is punishment without reason. I am never cruel—never. I am strict, and I do not hesitate to discipline. You see, too many people these days—mostly parents—do not understand the art of discipline. It’s not about fear. It’s about
respect
. I learned this at a very young age. You treat people strictly, yet
consistently
, and they will come to respect you. You can never be irrational or emotional. If people fear you, they become irritable and rebel. If they respect you, they will stay in line and do as you say.” He held up a finger. “This is a fundamental belief of mine. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“I require respect of you, Melissa.” He reached up and pushed some hair behind my ear. “But never fear.”

Can I feel both
?

“You are a reasonable woman, and I know you strive to please.” The hand on my neck drifted lower to rest on the dip of my waist, as shrouded as it was by the enormous sweatshirt I wore. “This is why I chose you. There are many, many whores in Metro. They thrive like cockroaches. But
you
were the one I picked, and remember there’s a reason for that. You are obedient, yet smart. You know the consequences of your actions. You are mature, and you’re very professional. All these qualities are necessary for me, and still, I am not at all disappointed in my choice.”

For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead, he looked down at my broken arm.

“I think you should get bandaged up properly. I’ll have someone drive you to the clinic down the road. They know not to ask questions.”

I was dumbfounded for a second. I had come in here expecting to be struck down, punished,
something
. But instead, all Ezekiel did was give his little vague speech about respect and turn me out. Was this even real?

Ezekiel reached over and pushed a button on his desk, and moments later, Bruce stepped in.

“Bruce, can you get Victor to drive Melissa down to the clinic? She needs to be fixed up a bit. And then bring her back. She’ll require rest after the ordeal she’s been through.”

Bruce nodded and stood to the side. Throwing one last look at Ezekiel, I bowed my head and shuffled over to Bruce, who let me through before closing the door behind me.

“Wait by the front door. I’m going to call Victor.” Bruce stepped away for a moment, reaching for his phone. I went to the front door, still amazed that I was alive.

What bothered me most about Ezekiel’s speech was his emphasis of
consistency
. This didn’t seem very consistent at all with his past treatment of my indiscretions. True, I had told Roger to leave, whereas I’d had no choice in leaving my bodyguard this time. And I hadn’t
blatantly
disregarded Ezekiel’s orders. Still. Ezekiel often chose to ignore the logic of the situation in his desire to punish. Not this time. Perhaps he was in a good mood. That hardly seemed likely, though. One of his bodyguards had just been shot and an article was in the papers about a mysterious car accident in Metro. If there was anything Ezekiel hated, it was free publicity.

I shook my head and decided not to think about it.

* * *

A few weeks passed. Life for me turned as ordinary as it could. I spent most of my days shopping, watching TV, or going to the gym, which was a new hobby I acquired in fear of gaining weight from all the five-star food. Of course, shooting up street dust every few days kept me pretty thin, too. But, I was trying to cut back a little on that. I figured that, without the usual anxieties of paying rent and putting up with sleazy customers, quitting drugs could be slightly easier than it might have been in the past. It wouldn’t be possible to quit entirely, though. Not when I had such an endless supply to keep me happy and high for long periods of time.

Ezekiel was home more often, which was both good and bad. Good because I didn’t have to worry about what I could or couldn’t do when he was gone. Bad because with him here, my services were required more often than not. Not that it was
really
bad, as Ezekiel continued to be pretty vanilla in his sexual preferences. It would always beat having sex with a few strangers every night, half of whom couldn’t bathe and tried to haggle me out of my usual price, sometimes with a gun. There had even been a few times I was close to enjoying the sex, which was an entirely new concept for me.

Physically, I was attracted to Ezekiel. He could have been cut from marble, and personal grooming was one of his highest priorities. I’d never catch him with more than a day’s worth of beard shag, and every morning his clothes were pressed and ironed for him. He told me first impressions were paramount, and he firmly believed a well-groomed man in a designer suit would strike fear in the hearts of Metro scum faster than any amount of tattoos and chains. That was probably true. Metro scum feared what they didn’t understand.

I’d often go shopping with my new bodyguard, Victor, which felt surreal. I’d asked for his name at the very beginning, because I didn’t want him dying before I knew it. I knew he wouldn’t stay long—the bodyguards never did—but I needed to learn at least a few things about him. Apparently, he was married with two kids. It made me wonder about Noah, and if there was some poor widow out there with children. Victor was significantly older than me and not easily confused as my possible boyfriend.

That was probably why a stranger of substantial wealth hit on me for the first time since becoming Ezekiel’s mistress. He was about Ezekiel’s age, but he looked like the sort who inherited his money. He was rumpled and probably hungover—not the sort of personality that got you a job as a high-earning stockbroker. Almost everyone in the bistro was wearing some form of suit, and there were only three women, all of who were twice my age. It was no wonder he went for me.

“I’ve never seen a classy lady like you order a white-bread bagel,” he blurted, and for a second, I thought he was talking into his phone. I glanced at him, and his big smile shocked me. I was not used to men in fancy suits grinning at me.

“Um, what?”

“Usually it’s that hoighty-toighty healthy stuff.” He motioned to the twenty kinds of bagels on display. “Buckwheat or multi-grain or whatever.”

My bodyguard glanced at him, then rolled his eyes. Apparently, Victor did not see this guy as a threat. I almost laughed, because this man, like Ace, was shameless.

“Nothing wrong with healthy.”

“Oh, of course not. But thin, young girls don’t need to worry. Live it up while you can, right?”

“Wheat is too gritty for me,” I told him.

“I’m Oscar. Never seen you in here before.”

“I don’t work around here,” I said. “I just came in for a snack.”

“Huh. Well, what do you do?”

I shrugged. “Secretary work.”

“This guy your boss?” Oscar puffed himself up as he faced Victor. Victor lifted an eyebrow, clearly not impressed.

“No, he’s just a friend.”

“What’s your name again?”

“You’re sweet.” I took the bagel the woman across the counter offered, throwing him a smile. “But it’s not happening.”

Victor gave me a look when we left. “Real winner.”

I laughed. “He was cute. Like you’ve never flirted with a woman in a bagel line.”

Victor snorted. “If anything, the women flirt with me.”

I elbowed him. “Yeah, I’m
sure
.”

I ate my bagel in Tipperton Square, one of the hundred parks that littered Zinya City’s landscape. It was tiny, but at its entrance sat a very iconic bronze fountain, with an angel on top, arms spread wide, smiling down at the pigeons collected at her feet. The sound of water splashing mingled with gentle conversation, pigeons cooing, and distant traffic.

Victor and I sat at one of the wrought iron tables around the fountain when I spotted a familiar bob of flame-red hair.

“Rika?” I muttered to myself.

“Huh?” Victor looked up from his wrap.

“Nothing. I just…I know that woman over there.” I pointed.

Victor glanced over his shoulder, and frowned. “Milford.”

“You know her?”

“No.” He pointed, too. “But I’ve heard enough about her brother.”

Rika was so obvious with her red hair and yellow windbreaker that I’d completely missed the man rolling alongside her in a wheelchair. Of course. Floyd Milford had been crippled in one of his encounters with the Yentis, none of who approved of his anti-terrorism efforts. He, unlike his sister, was dressed professionally in a suit just as expensive as Ezekiel’s. He was older than Rika, but he had the same smile. I could hear his laugh, even from where we sat.

“I should go say hi,” I muttered.

Victor gave me a blank look.

“What? Just because the Milfords aren’t Ezekiel’s biggest fans doesn’t mean I can’t be friendly with them. Rika seems to like me, at least.”

Victor snorted and took another bite from his wrap. “You can go talk to them if you want. I can watch you from here. I still have a whole cappuccino to work through.”

“You’re sure that’s okay?”

Victor nodded, moving his jacket slightly so I could see the gun harness underneath. “I can protect you at a distance, if I need to.”

“Thanks.” I stood, balling the bag my bagel had come in and shooting it into a trashcan. I headed in the direction of the Milford couple but almost stopped when they were joined by another figure, this one dressed in a conservative blouse and pencil skirt. Even at this distance, she was clearly Jahralian.

I didn’t let her sudden appearance hinder me. My heels clicked against the pavement as I crossed the distance between us.

Rika noticed me almost immediately.

“Oh, hey, Melissa!” Her grin was large. “Man, didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Hi.” I pulled my thin jacket tighter around me, pressing my naked knees together in the chilly wind. “Small world, right?”

There was a short silence, but Rika quickly jumped forward to introduce me. “Melissa, this is my brother, Fl—”

“Floyd Milford.” I extended my hand for him to shake. “Who hasn’t heard of you? Zinya City considers you its very own superhero.”

Floyd chuckled. He definitely had Rika’s smile and kind eyes. “I can’t do much ass kicking in this chair. I’m afraid my vigilante work is done behind a desk.”

“Floyd, this is Melissa. She’s a friend of Ace’s.”

“Ace has friends?” Floyd joked.

“And Melissa, this here is Mina, one of my best friends.” Rika gently held Mina’s arm, pulling her forward.

Mina was beautiful. She was a middle-aged woman, like Rika, but her eyes were gorgeous, almond-shaped. They sparkled a sharp violet in the weak sunlight. She was about as thin as I was, but much shorter, even though her heels gave her some height. She only nodded, clearly not one for conversation.

“How exactly do you know Ace?” Floyd asked me.

“We ran into each other at the Park once. And I suppose you could say he flirted a little… Okay, a lot.”

Floyd laughed. “Ace isn’t known for his subtlety. So…are you from Metro or just visiting?” He gave me a quick once-over. “Because you sure don’t look like you’re from that neighborhood.”

“Yeah, I’m from Metro. I just…” I glanced over my shoulder at Victor, who was sipping his drink, staring at the statue. “I have unusual circumstances.”

Floyd nodded, motioning toward a nearby table. “Would you like to sit with us? We’re still waiting on one more friend. She’s bringing our lunch.”

The friend showed up about five minutes later, dressed in a flaming pink dress, polka-dotted heels, and a multitude of silver bangles, her tight curls pulled in bun on the back of her head. It was hard to tell what was brighter—her outfit or her smile.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said in a high-pitched squeak, even though she looked Rika’s age. She was carrying a bona-fide wicker picnic basket, a few plastic bags, and a lacey purse clenched between her elbow and waist. “I just missed the train, and they were bugging me about this article…anyway, I’m here now.” She whipped around to face me. “Oh, hi!”

I blinked at her.

“Stefany, this is Melissa. Melissa, this is Stefany.” Rika winked at me. I assumed she was used to the reaction people had to her friend. “Stefany is a writer for the Zinya City Gazette. Melissa is a friend of Ace’s. You know Ace, right?”

“Of course I know Ace.” Stefany struggled with her bags until Rika jumped up and helped her with them. “Thank you, hon.” She threw herself down at the table, whipping open her picnic basket. “How does everyone feel about spinach barley dip? And I made zucchini bread. And some truffles.” Her face fell. “Oh no! I didn’t make enough.” She reached across and snatched up my hand so quickly I nearly ripped it away from her. “I didn’t know you’d be here. Oh, don’t worry. I-I can split up a sandwich or something—”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“What happened to your arm?” She pointed to my cast in horror. “Are you all right?”

“Uh…fine…”

“Poor thing.” She pouted at me.

Rika pulled on Stefany’s sleeve. “Stef, let the girl breathe for a second.”

There was a good five minutes of discussion revolving around what Stefany brought for lunch. When she laid it all out, I was amazed by how sophisticated it all looked. Stefany must have been quite the chef. I continued to insist that I’d just eaten and wasn’t hungry, but those truffles looked like heaven.

While Rika and Stefany argued amiably over the zucchini bread, Floyd leaned closer to me.