Livy gnashed her teeth as Lady Foxton took the opportunity to mold herself against Ben, pushing her nearly exposed breasts against his chest. When he set her aside, she grabbed his hand, leading him out of the seating area toward a corridor just beyond. As they departed, Edgecombe, Thorne, and Bollinger gave hoots of approval.
The bastards,Livy fumed.
“I have to go after Ben,” she muttered.
“Have a care, and make sure he does not see you,” Charlie whispered. “I will stay here and monitor the others.”
With a nod, Livy took off after Ben and Lady Foxton, reaching the corridor just as the two entered a room at the far end, the door closing behind them. Jealousy pounded in Livy’s chest. While she trusted Ben, she didnottrust Lady Foxton.
How can I spy on them when they are locked in that room?she thoughtdesperately.
“First time, my sweet?” a voice drawled.
Livy started at the man who’d materialized next to her. He was in his thirties, wiry and slim, his eyes the same shade as his bronze mask. Wanting to get rid of him, she gave a dismissive nod.
“You like to watch, I presume?” He smirked at her. “Well, I shall let you in on a little secret: the best performances are the ones given by unwitting actors. Such as in those rooms.” He gestured at the corridor.
Livy’s heart thudded. “You mean…there is a way to see inside those rooms?”
“Your wish is my command.” The stranger bowed. “Follow me, my sweet.”
30
Alone in the room of a pleasure house with a woman he’d once swived, Ben was confronted by his sordid past. In truth, he felt disgusted with himself. Not long ago, he would have thought nothing of fucking Cherise at this orgy. Of playing their mutually agreed upon games. Yet even then he’d known that he was just going through the motions. There’d been no care or connection between him and Cherise. They’d merely used each other to spend.
Afterward, he’d felt even more alone. The feeling of emptiness would spread like a cancer. And he’d known with a stark certainty that happiness would forever elude him.
Being with Livy had shown him a different possibility. A desire that connected his body, mind, and heart. That didn’t deplete his soul but enriched it and made him feel...whole. Although he hadn’t made love to Livy yet, at least not all the way, her sweet, wanton passion aroused him more than anything at this Bacchanal, no matter how depraved, ever could. Because what she gave to him wasn’t a veneer. A show.
It wasrealand so bloody generous and sweet.
God, he missed his little queen.
Yet he’d forced himself to stay focused on the mission. He’d more or less blackmailed himself back into the Horsemen’s fold, and while his aggressive maneuvering might have garnered the men’s respect in the short-term, he knew they would push back eventually. It was the nature of these men. They had a pack mentality: the strongest survived, and the weak were left to perish.
The image of Longmere’s unmoving body flashed in Ben’s head. It was a perilous game he was playing, and he couldn’t afford any missteps. He had not yet earned the group’s trust: they remained tight-lipped about their operations, including how and when the Devil’s Bliss was delivered, saying that he would learn more when he was ready.
As for Fong, the Horsemen seemed to fear and revere their partner in equal measure…even though they’d never met him. Only Longmere had seen Fong in the flesh and only the one time. Fong communicated via his henchmen, who reinforced the power of their venerable master. The Horsemen ascribed mystical qualities to Fong, as if he were some all-knowing deity.
Bollinger had confided that he’d once “miscounted” the payments he’d received from clients. The day after he’d submitted the money to Fong, he’d found a bill and a dead rat on his desk. The amount due was precisely what he’d held back…and the bill had been written in the rat’s blood. Bollinger had never miscalculated again.
Did the Horsemen suspect that Fong had killed Longmere?Ben wondered.Did they fear that they would meet the same end if they tried to abandon their deadly enterprise?Whatever the case, their greed, sensation seeking, and idolatry of the forbidden kept them ensnared.
To gain the bastards’ trust, Ben had gambled, drank, and raised hell with them all week. Returning to his old habits, even under pretense, had brought a sickening feeling of shame. His strategy had borne fruit, however. Deep in his cups one eve, Thorne had revealed that Cherise was one of the group’s earliest and most prized clients. Introduced to the drug by Longmere, she’d apparently spent a small fortune on the Devil’s Bliss and couldn’t get enough of it.
“For her, the drug works like an aphrodisiac,”Thorne had said drunkenly.“Turns her into a bitch in h-heat. Wore m-me out the last time. On our next outing, she is your problem.”
Ben found the metaphor as distasteful as his present situation. Yet given Cherise’s entanglement with the group, she might have useful information about the operation.
“Finally, we are alone,” Cherise purred. “Why don’t you join me, lover?”
She lounged on the bed that took up most of the room, her bare legs sticking out from her clinging scarlet robe. Her heavy perfume, the black and gold damask walls, and large looking glass affixed to the ceiling created an oppressive atmosphere.
Instead of going to the bed, Ben went to the chaise longue that faced it. He sat, draping his arm along the chaise’s back, his pose arrogant and casual. Despite Cherise’s pout at having her invitation declined, lust gleamed in her eyes. Ben understood her personality: the more something was withheld from her, the more she wanted it. When he’d ended things after their brief affair, she’d tried to cling on, merely because he did not want her.
“Why don’t we chat first?” he said.
When he’d arrived, she’d already partaken of the Devil’s Bliss. Luckily, she showed no adverse effects, only signs of approaching oblivion. Her eyelids were beginning to droop over her dilated gaze, and he guessed she would pass out soon. Until then, he would ward off her advances while questioning her.
