I recover first, from this seemingly unbreakable eye contact. I remember who I am, and why I’m here. I clear my throat, dragging a single finger along my collarbone. His eyes follow my touch before drifting down to the swell of my cleavage, exactly as I knew they would.
I tamp down on my grin because this is too easy. “I don’t think I’ve seen you at La Puissance before, my lord.”
He throws back the remainder of his drink. “First time. And I’m not a lord.”
My heart sinks a bit because I’d pegged him as a wealthy patron and my judgment isn’t usually off. But then my eyes rove over him again. His clothing doesn’t lie. He may not be a lord, but new money spends just as well as old money. I trace that single fingeralong his forearm. “Perhaps you would allow me to show you the ropes? My private suite is right up the stairs.”
He clears his throat and steps away from me, though the action looks as if it pains him. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t think I’ll be staying much longer. Or returning.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Did we do something to offend you?”
He shakes his head. “Quite the opposite, I’m afraid, Lady Caterine.”
Both eyebrows rise this time. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
He flashes me a sad smile. “I believe that’s for the best. Good night, Lady Caterine.”
Before I have time to protest, he turns and leaves.
I stand blinking at the empty space where he stood a moment ago, shock and something like regret roiling through me.
He said he wouldn’t be coming back, which means I won’t be seeing him again. And for some reason, that makes me incredibly sad. That itch under my skin kicks up until the sensation almost burns.
Because of all the funds I could have gleaned from him, of course, I reason.
But I don’t have time to wallow. The night is getting on, and I haven’t yet brought in a single customer. I’m still getting used to this new mindset—searching for funds instead of people who might need my help—and I can’t pretend to enjoy the hunt. So when an obviously wealthy man approaches me, flashing a leering smile and a pocket heavy with gold coins, I don’t consider sending him away.
It doesn’t take long before we’re naked in between my cool silk sheets. The man is fumbling and quick, clearly not caring one bit about my comfort or pleasure. Turns out, when I share an emotional connection with my clients, they are more likely to care aboutmy pleasure in return. But my pleasure doesn’t matter anymore, what matters is keeping my sister safe.
I close my eyes as he pushes into me, willing my brain to travel elsewhere for the next few minutes. Instead, an unbidden image pops into my mind. The man from the bar. His shy smile tugging on his perfect lips. The bright blue spark in his eyes. I imagine his hands tracing gentle lines over my bare skin. His lips tracing the same path. I let out a breathy sigh.
“You like that?” the man grumbles, yanking me out of my pleasant vision.
The air in the room turns a putrid sort of puce as he heaves one final thrust and groans in a way that could give off the impression he’s dying. Luckily, I don’t think that’s the case.
“Oh, that was wonderful,” I cry, keeping my voice light and pure so he doesn’t notice the lie. I hold the man in place, not that he’s made any effort to remove his weight from smothering me. In this case I don’t mind since I’m not done with him yet. I push any thoughts of handsome men from my mind and focus on the task at hand.
The man mumbles something unintelligible into my neck. Whatever it is, it must be good because the green thickens and darkens around us. Not that he can see it.
I have to search hard for the correct emotions, for so long that the green starts to dissipate, and the man starts to pull away. Snaking my hand in between our bodies—his slick with sweat—I stroke him until both he and the color harden, until I find the string I need to pull on. Rather than tuck this emotion away, folding it up into a tiny box, I expand it, inflating the man’s stilted sense of generosity.
I wait until I’ve expanded his sense of charity to the fullestbefore I put on my breathiest voice. “I don’t know about you, my lord, but things have been so hard for me since the Uprising.” I continue my gentle strokes, though he’s begun to soften in my hand.
He pulls far enough away to look at me. He doesn’t make eye contact, but his gaze roves over my face and down to my chest. “I was under the impression you were one of La Puissance’s top performers.”
“I am.” I shrug, not bothering with false modesty. “But even I have been seeing a downturn.” I sigh, as long and dramatic as I can manage. “I might have to find another line of work if things continue this way.”
The man frowns, putting even more space in between us. His eyes trace my naked body before he climbs out of bed and dresses, his attention never returning to me.
Shit. I must have messed up somehow. I’m still not used to using my Gift to take advantage of my clients, and I’ve had some trouble pulling the right emotional strings with the right amount of pressure.
The man pauses by the door, looking at me one final time. “We can’t have you leaving La Puissance now that I’ve finally found my way to your bed, Lady Caterine.” And with that he dumps the entire contents of his pockets into my elephant-shaped gold bowl.
I keep my eyes soft and innocent, overcome with gratitude. “Oh, thank you, my lord. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you.” I sit up and clasp my hands in just the right way, pressing my breasts together.
“You can show me. Tomorrow night.”
Fighting back the grimace, I nod like there’s nothing I would rather do, wishing I could turn back the clock to the way things used to be, but no part of me feeling sorry for taking advantage of the man as I have.
