The King and the Courtesan (9 page)

Ezekiel kissed me, slowly at first and then harder, faster. I didn’t want to disappoint a man with as much power as Ezekiel, especially considering the price he paid. Normally I did only as much as it took to keep up, but now I kissed him back, pretending to the best of my ability that I wanted him. But how to act? Did he want me to be reserved and submissive? Saucy and sweet? I could only trust instinct, as Ezekiel didn’t appear interested in talking about it.

I ran my hands up his chest and unbuttoned his jacket. After I yanked it off, he attacked my neck with a passion I’d not seen from him thus far. It shocked me and made my job of undressing him a little harder, but I wormed my way through his twisting arms to get to the rest of his clothing. As cold as his eyes and demeanor were, now his mouth burned against my skin, his teeth nipping what flesh they could find. I untucked his white shirt and undid his bow while he tugged at the zipper of my dress. I could smell his cologne—probably brewed in some unheard-of country and bottled in crystal.

By the time he threw me onto the bed, my dress and his shirt had been removed. He sat there a moment, staring at my nearly naked body. Then his eyes met mine, and a slow smile curled across his lips, like the expression that crossed a lion’s face before it devoured its meal.

The look made me wary, but I was already preparing myself for the inevitable plunge. When he unlatched my bra and smothered himself in my skin, I braced myself for pain. It seemed like the sort of thing a drug lord like Ezekiel might want, considering the rumors of his strict, cold rule over Metro. But no pain came, and after coming to the slow realization that it never would, I let myself float away, content.

When I woke, I was disoriented for about five seconds before I remembered where I was. Sighing heavily, I rolled over. Ezekiel had left. The massive bed was completely empty, except for me. I wasn’t going to complain.

I sat up and stretched my arms, yawning so wide my jaw cracked. I noticed that there was a puddle of black silk lying at my feet. When I picked it up, it was not the gown that had been discarded last night. It was in fact
another
dress, this one severely lacking in the skirt area. How did these people know my size? Or
not
know my size? I wasn’t sure if this dress would cover my butt. It looked incredibly small, even for my tiny torso.

The dress also came with a pair of strappy six-inch heels, clean underwear—which was lacier and more minimal than I preferred—and a silk robe that was no longer than the mini-dress but had long sleeves, which would at least help with the morning chill.

I crawled out of bed and rubbed my eyes. My fingers came back smeared with eyeliner. I knew I had better fix my makeup. I wasn’t sure if Ezekiel was here, but if he was, he probably wouldn’t appreciate raccoon eyes and smeared lipstick. It felt weird, worrying about my appearance in the morning.

After the sex last night, Ezekiel had pointed me to the suitcase full of dust and ordered me to do what I had to as discretely as possible, with the caveat that I never appear high in his presence. As he’d slept, I’d shot up. Only when I felt sober enough to walk straight did I head back to bed and slide in next to him. I hadn’t dreamed at all, and I was pleased to find no trace of a headache this morning. Sometimes the headache depended on the quality of the dust, and considering this was
Ezekiel
, I imagined it was the best—like everything else he owned.

When I glanced at the clock, I nearly cried out.
Three o’clock in the afternoon
? It was probably the goddamn mattress. My spine had never touched anything so soft and comfortable.

“This is your fault,” I told the mattress.

I stood and wrapped the robe around my naked body. I stepped into the bathroom, which I vaguely remembered from the midst of my high last night. Luckily I hadn’t left any needle or dust lying around. Not only would someone as neat as Ezekiel hate it, but I didn’t want to invoke any cravings.

I took a shower, intimidated by the sheer number of showerheads. I found girly shampoos on the rack and almost laughed. Then I remembered that Ezekiel had planned all this. So no, they were not
his
girly shampoos. Or maybe they were. How was I supposed to know?

After a good, refreshing shower, I wrapped a towel robe around me and sat in front of the vanity mirror. There was a velvet covered makeup case set in the corner, which I opened and found a multitude of lipsticks, eye shadows, and blushes. Nothing was wild. Everything was subdued.

Figures.

I found a note in the bottom of the case.

I smiled in spite of myself. I already loved Rosa, and I’d only met her once.

I put on my face, making sure to tone it down from my usual routine. I flattened my hair with the provided iron. Then I put on the jewelry already laid out for me. It wasn’t quite as decadent as what I’d worn last night, but it still seemed too precious to touch.

I slipped into the dress and shoes and finally left my bedroom. Once on the second floor hallway, I overlooked the foyer below and nearly lost my confidence. I had no idea where anything was. I was starving and needed to find the kitchen. But could I walk around as I wished? Should I have stayed in my room? Ezekiel hadn’t told me anything after he gave me the street dust.

“Miss?”

I turned to the stairs. A man stood on the top step. He looked a bit like Bruce and Garrett, but thinner and with glasses. He wore a suit—who didn’t in this household?—and every article of clothing and strand of hair was in perfect order.

“Me?” I asked.

“Yes. I see you’ve risen and put yourself together. I’ll take you to the kitchen for lunch.”

I followed the man down the steps, trying to accustom myself to heels this early in the morning—well,
afternoon
. I noticed how the guy didn’t even give me a single once-over. I thought he would with this dress and these insane shoes. Maybe Ezekiel hired gay men to take care of my needs. I had a feeling Ezekiel wouldn’t appreciate other men ogling me.

Maybe he wasn’t gay, though. Maybe he was terrified. Or perhaps a eunuch. Or maybe Ezekiel was the only one who found me attractive.

The house was much bigger than I anticipated, especially since it was perched on top of a skyscraper. Each time I thought we had reached the end of a hallway or room, another one opened up, making me wonder who the hell needed
three
different living rooms and a dining room the size of a basketball court, which was where the guy ended up seating me. One wall looked out across the city, which, of course, was breathtaking.

“Your lunch will be served soon,” the man said, then vanished behind a door.

I sat there in the abandoned room, straight-backed and anxious. I tapped my fingers on the table and whistled a bit. I eventually got impatient and stood, yanking the hem of my skirt down as I walked to the windows. I squinted in the sun, trying to find Metro amongst all the buildings. Metro was one of the only districts that didn’t have skyscrapers, which made it exceedingly difficult to find. It seemed that even the suburbs were building up instead of out.

“Melissa.”

I nearly pissed myself in shock. Spinning around, my back hit the window, and for a moment, I was pressed against the thin sheet of glass keeping me from toppling down through countless stories of empty air. I panicked and stood upright again, taking a few steps away from the window as my heart pounded out of control.

“Y-you scared me,” I gasped as I faced Ezekiel, who stood in the doorway I’d entered through moments ago.

“Did I?” he asked, simply raising his eyebrows. “I apologize then.” He gave me the once-over his henchman had not. “I’m glad you are dressed and awake. I feel as if I must mention a rule I’d like followed from now on. Never, under any circumstances, are you to come down from the bedroom in anything less than your day attire. It is only appropriate.”

I had already assumed this. “Of course.”

“Excellent. Also…” He smiled a bit as he took in my dress. “I see I made the right choice. You look utterly radiant.”

Utterly radiant
? This guy sure was strange. I mean, I wasn’t one to object to being complimented, but Blade and other guys offered a simple “nice ass” and went on their way.

“Which brings me to another point. I’ve already expressed my interest in your particular physicality. I would like to see it flaunted as much as possible. There will be no jeans or slacks of any kind. Am I clear?”

In other words, no covering up the legs he paid handsomely for. I nodded sharply.

“I’m sorry I woke up so late,” I told him softly as he crossed the room and sat down in one of the table’s chairs. “I usually don’t sleep in.”

Ezekiel waved it away. “You do what you like. I really have no use for you in the mornings. I was away on business and have just returned. I neglected to tell you that when you’re home, feel free to roam. Today I will be working away from home, so I want you to have this.” He proffered a sleek silver credit card. I pulled it hesitantly from his fingers and looked at it.

“You may buy what you want, but make sure it doesn’t violate any of my standards. Nothing gaudy or cheap. I firmly demand that you be dressed in the finest. Also, I would prefer black clothing, if you don’t mind. A silver, white, or navy blue is not horrible here and there, but I’d like the majority of your wardrobe to fit my tastes.”

I nodded.

The man who’d led me down here emerged from the door he’d vanished behind, carrying a sandwich and various other sides that I couldn’t identify at this distance. He stopped when he saw Ezekiel.

“Would you like the cook to make you something as well, sir?” he stated, spine rigid.

“I just ate,” Ezekiel replied.

The man placed the plate on the table near where I stood. “Enjoy then, miss.”

“Thank you, Roger,” Ezekiel told him, then waved him away. Roger vanished, leaving us alone in the room. I glanced down at the sandwich.

“You can eat it, if you like.” Ezekiel smiled. “Don’t let my presence stop you.”

“I’m afraid you’ll fault my table manners.”

“Well, I would suggest you sit down to eat.” He pushed a chair out with his foot and raised his eyebrows.

I sat daintily on the edge of my seat and crossed my legs—the only sitting position possible in the dress. The movement attracted Ezekiel’s gaze to my legs for a second, then back to my face. I guess he didn’t like to linger.

“So,” I said after swallowing a bite of my roasted chicken sandwich, “um, in regards to my special suitcase, my…”

“Payment?” Ezekiel smirked. “It can remain in the bedroom, and if you ever get low you will have to let me know. Don’t worry, Melissa. I promised you I’d provide. This isn’t a rehab center.” He stood when a buzzing started in his pocket. “I apologize, but business calls. Enjoy your lunch.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked away from me, lifting it to his ear as he closed the door behind him.

I guess business was one thing he and Blade had in common.

I looked down at the credit card in my hand. I didn’t want to believe that I could buy anything with this. Since when did someone sane fork over a credit card to a woman and tell her to go wild? Was it because Ezekiel was naïve to the spending capabilities of a woman? Did he know I would use this to help my sister?

I had a feeling he knew. He seemed to know everything else.

* * *

I found Roger waiting outside the dining room after I finished my sandwich and pasta salad. He was picking at his cuticles, but immediately snapped to attention when I entered.

“Something I can do for you, miss?” he asked.

“Can you call me Melissa?”

“I can.”

“Excellent. Um, well, I was going to go downstairs so I can catch a bus to—”

“You won’t have to take the bus. I can drive you.”

“What happened to Bruce and Garrett?” I asked.

“They are Ezekiel’s personal guards and chauffeurs. I am yours.”

“I have my own bodyguard?” I couldn’t believe it. Who would want to kill
me
?

“I’m just a chauffeur, actually. Ezekiel gave me a gun, but…you wouldn’t happen to have any enemies, would you?”

“Not really. Maybe my landlord.” I snorted and a piece of loose hair fluttered.

Roger nodded. “I’ll drive you where you need to go. Downtown? Caramou Avenue?”

“Caramou? What’s that?”

“It’s Ralston’s shopping district.”

I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Um, no. I was thinking—Metro, actually.”

Roger blinked. His eyebrows congregated in the center of his forehead, like two fuzzy caterpillars kissing. “Metro?”

“Yeah. I have some things I wanna do.”

Roger looked uncertain but eventually nodded. “Good thing I have a gun.”

“It’s not
that
dangerous, okay?” I rolled my eyes. “At least, not during the day.”

We entered the penthouse elevator, then took it to sublevel three, the garage where all of Ezekiel’s cars were parked. Roger moved toward the back of the sedan, and was surprised when I opened the passenger side door instead.

“This is highly unconventional,” he said once he’d slipped into the car.

“I hate sitting in the back all by myself. I feel as if people are avoiding me because of B.O. or something.” I closed the door behind me and turned to him. “You know what I mean?”

He blinked at me.

“So…Roger, is it?”

“Yes.” Roger started the car, and we pulled out of the garage, which had several floors of luxury cars and hot rods.

“How long have you been working with Ezekiel?”

“Four years.”

“As a…?”

“I’m the butler, more often than not.”

“Butler? You don’t look like a butler.”

“Why not?” He glanced at me. “Did you expect a creepy, gray-haired old man?”

“I didn’t think butlers
existed
anymore.” I shook my head. “So now that you’re my chauffeur, who’s the butler?”