“Anything?” Her offer warms my belly like a shot of scotch. “You’ll let me act out any fantasy? No inch of you is off-limits?”
Her pupils widen, the delicate vein in her neck pounds. “I am yours to command.”
Someone is hell-bent on sabotaging me. But the joke could be on them. Tonight’s encounter could grant me a path to redemption that no one has counted on.
This woman offers me the chance to break every rule. But what if I can withstand her angelic body? Here is the perfect way for me to cast doubt aside and prove myself worthy of taking my final vows.
“Stand up. I have a proposition.”
Ruby
I swallow hard. Whatever he proposes, it cannot be enough to sway me from my purpose. I must make him give in to his lust, make him trust me, or we will lose everything. I close my eyes and remind myself of the stories some of the other girls have told me, though these tales are nothing found in the books that line the library’s walls. They claim it wasn’t always like this, that the Madam had changed ever since she’d returned from a trip to Nightgardin a year ago. Now she punished her girls for losing a client—and let clients dole out whatever consequences they saw fit, as well.
I once lost a month’s wages for not swallowing when my client came in my mouth.
I know a girl who had her nose broken for telling her client he needed to bathe more often.
One girl got caught by her client’s wife. The Madam not only fired her but had them scar her face so no client would want her after that, just in case she tried to do business independent of The Jewel Box.
I don’t want to know who they are or how they enact physical punishment, but the prince has not yet kicked me out, so I will humor him and listen to what he proposes.
“What do you want from me?” I ask. “I’ve already offered you everything I have to give.”
Myself.
He walks along the shelves, running a finger over the spines of the books.
“I take my final vows in one month’s time. If it is, in fact, my brother who has put you up to tempting me, then he shall get his wish. Just not as he thinks.”
My brows furrow, and he turns to face me as he continues.
“This—” he points to his collar “—has always been my path. The eldest son will rule the kingdom, and the spare will keep the royal family and its subjects on a moral path. The third... Well, you’ve heard of my brother Damien’s banishment. Our family has been disgraced enough. I will not add to it.” He raises a brow. “I know the rumors about my mother.”
My cheeks burn. Though the queen died many years ago, gossip of the second son—of the man standing before me—being a bastard has long circulated throughout the kingdom. The origin of his birth means nothing to me. All I care about is my duty. My family.
“For many reasons,” he continues, “this is a responsibility I have never taken lightly. Until now I have not succumbed to the temptation of the flesh, but then, I’ve been careful not to let myself truly be tempted.”
I rise to face him, but he still towers over me. “Stop speaking in code, Your Highness. I came here to do my job. Are you or are you not sending me home a failure?” I don’t think the Madam truly cares whether I am able to seduce him or not. I just need to stay long enough to look around—to find the painting she’s so convinced is on these grounds. I try to sound tough, not to let on what failure could mean, but the tremble in my voice betrays me.
He reaches a hand toward my face but squeezes it into a fist before his skin meets mine.
“Tempt me,” he says, and a muscle in his jaw ticks.
“I don’t understand,” I tell him. “I thought I already tried.”
He unfastens his collar and pulls it from beneath his shirt. “I am not worthy of the priesthood unless I truly can resist. Unless I am genuinely tempted. Whatever your fee is, I will triple it if you come here nightly to try to lead me from my virtue.”
My breath catches. Triple my fee. Nightly. Surely the Madam will free me from my original obligation if he is willing to pay such a wage. And coming to him every night? Wouldn’t that give me access and time to find what she seeks?
“Nightly? Would you send for me when wanted, or shall I show up and surprise you?” I laugh and bat my lashes at him. “Like tonight?”
He shakes his head. “If you need to do this to provide for yourself...” He nods at my attire, the small gesture filling me with more shame than masturbating in a confessional.
The Prince of Edenvale sees me as a whore. I have to remind myself that is exactly what I am now. Once upon a time, I was the beloved daughter of a famous and respected man. But I am not that girl anymore.
I raise my chin in a futile attempt at defiance. “What?” I ask. “Say whatever it is you were going to say next.”
He runs a hand through his thick, dark hair, and I realize that whatever he’s about to propose, he’s nervous.
This realization melts a little of the ice around my heart.
“There is a cottage past the gardens in the center of the maze. It’s been vacant for months, but there is staff assigned to clean and maintain it in case of visitors. It is ready for you right now.”
My pride begs me to refuse him, but the thought of another night in the brothel has me putting logic, comfort and safety first.
“I can’t afford rent,” I say coolly.
“There would be none, of course.”
“And during the day?” I ask.
He nods. “Your days are your own to do as you please, on or off the palace grounds. I will send for you nightly at eight o’clock. Our work begins tomorrow.”
On or off the palace grounds.
I can find that painting in a matter of days.
“What other rules are there?” I ask, waiting for the catch, for the other shoe to drop.
He clasps his hands at his waist, the collar between them. “As long as your skin never touches mine in a sexual nature, there are no other rules. Do what you will to tempt me from my path.”
He reaches a hand toward my face again, and just when I think he’s about to break his own rule, he pulls my wig free, letting my blond waves tumble over my shoulders. Again that muscle tightens in his jaw, but he is otherwise unreadable.
“And never,” he says, his voice gentle yet authoritative, “wear this again.”
He wants to pay me triple what I’d make with any other clients—without him ever laying a hand on me. I swallow tears and extend a hand. “I’m Ruby.” I give him my fake name from the brothel, and he hesitates, my wig in one hand, his collar in the other. “Shaking hands doesn’t violate any rules, does it?”
The corner of his mouth quirks into something almost like a grin. Almost.
For a moment I’m tempted to tell him the truth. I am Evangeline Vernazza. Surely he would recognize my father’s surname. But no. Prince Benedict and I are more similar than he thinks. I know family disgrace as much as he does. I am not a budding artist, daughter of a respected name anymore. I am Ruby, the newest escort from The Jewel Box, the most prized brothel in Europe.
He drops the wig to the floor and takes my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ruby.”
I smile enough for the both of us. “Your Highness, I’d say you’ve got yourself a deal.”