A spike of something hot shot through him and Ardan’s jaw tensed. He exhaled deeply through his nose, evening out his breathing. The day after he’d fucked Ardan and he was already with a whore? The thought made his blood light on fire. Anger surged in him as hot as lava. “Lovely. Room number.”
Darcy smoothed his hands over his suit. “Mr.….”
“Murphy. Ardan Murphy.”
His eyes widened in response, and Ardan smirked. Yes, a lot of people knew who he was. “Mr. Murphy, the Courtesan is strict on keeping our visitors safe. I’ll call Mr. Mancini down, but I will not give you the room number.”
“I can respect that.” Ardan’s gaze slid to his suit again and he inclined his head at it. “Italian?”
“Kiton.”
“Expensive.”
“Like everything else in this hotel.” Darcy smiled charmingly at him. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll call our guest. You can make your way to the bar and he’ll meet you there.”
Ardan sent Darcy a stiff smile in thanks and turned on his heel, heading into an area he’d rather not be anywhere near. Men and women crowded the room, sitting in the lounge area and on the stools near the bar, each with a glass of alcohol in their hands. Ardan couldn’t pick one person whodidn’thave one.
He made his way to a spare table, dressed in a dark crimson cloth with intricate white patterns sewn in. The chairs were made of dark wood with cushions that matched the table cloth, and were surprisingly comfortable to sit on. A bartender walked over to him, a wide smile on his narrow face as he approached. Like the valet and every other staffer Ardan had seen, this bartender wore a gold badge with his name on it. He also had a white shirt, deep red vest, and long black pants, pressed perfectly without a wrinkle. Ardan had heard enough rumors about the Courtesan and expected no less. They strived for perfection.
“Good afternoon, sir. Can I get you a drink? We have a wide range of beers and spirits, as well as cocktails and wines,” he said as way of greeting when he reached Ardan.
“Do you have Coke?”
The bartender’s smile faltered for a second before he fixed it. Ardan didn’t miss the way his eyebrows swooped in confusion, though. Clearly not many people asked for pop. “We do, yes.”
“I’ll take one of those.” Ardan crossed his legs and tossed up the idea of ordering for Mancini, but chose not to. Mancini could buy his own.
The bartender hesitated and then nodded and disappeared again. Ardan took the chance to stare around the room and study the people who occupied the other tables. They were well dressed in suits and clothes that looked like they cost a fortune. Ardan knew enough about clothing to recognize some brand name cashmere tops and designer pants. None of the faces were familiar, and they appeared comfortable, like they knew they didn’t have any worries about being in a whorehouse. Maybe some of them had no idea what the Courtesan really was.
It wasn’t hard to deduct which men and women were the whores, though. Their clothing was as nice as the others, but they had a way with their bodies. They were fluid, almost like dancers, as they touched the arm of the person in front of them, their smiles seductive and laughs too high pitched to be anything but fake.
To Ardan’s right, an Asian man was entertaining a lady in a sparkly red dress. She leaned in closer to him, eyelashes fluttering and smile spread across her bright red lips. It was easy to assume she was the whore, because she was beautiful enough with a heart shaped face and slim figure, but the man was even more gorgeous. Muscular, high cheekbones, and he had charisma that she didn’t seem to have. Whatever he said had her eating out of the palm of his hand.
“That’s Romeo.” Mancini’s voice came from behind Ardan, and he didn’t bother to turn and look at the other man. Mancini walked around to take the seat on Ardan’s left, crossing his legs and settling in comfortably.
He’d changed into a gray suit with a red tie, and it fit him a lot better than the one he’d been wearing at the café. His hair was wet and brushed back and it was obvious he’d had a shower. Probably after the fuck with the whore he was planning to spend the night with. The thought caused Ardan’s stomach to churn, a sour taste lingering on his tongue.
“His name is appropriate apparently,” Ardan said simply, glancing back at Romeo, who now had the woman’s hand upside down in his. He was tracing the lines of her palm, and she was giggling harder.
“He’s one of the high earners. A popular top in the Courtesan. You’d need to book four months ahead to have an appointment with him.” Mancini waved his hand at the bartender. He came over with Ardan’s drink, placing it on the table as Mancini ordered a bourbon from him. As soon as the bartender left, Mancini continued, “Rumors are he has a ten inch dick.”
Ardan snorted. He supposed whores who were primarily tops had to have something going for them, whether it be their cocks or their skills.
“It’s nine and a half, actually.” The new voice belonged to a young man with short brown hair. He plopped into the final chair at the table, directly opposite Mancini. Smiling, he held out his hand to Ardan. “You must be the assassin trying to kill Gabe. I’m Kirby, but people around here call me Bliss.”
“Kirby….” There was a warning in Mancini’s voice and his eyes narrowed. It was a new emotion that Ardan had yet to see from the Italian and he found himself intrigued.
“Kirby. Lovely name. Are you the whore he’s spending the night with?” Ardan gave him a once over.
Kirby was a pretty man with big blue eyes and pale skin, the kind of person who looked like he spent more time inside with beauty products than anywhere else. Ardan supposed he could see the appeal, but he didn’t expect this man to be Mancini’s type. “Whore? Yes. Gabe spending the night with me? No. Are you jealous?” He grinned and there was something mischievous about the way his eyes lit up. So, Mancini had told him they’d fucked, that much was obvious.
“Kirby, go back upstairs,” Mancini ordered as calmly as Ardan expected from him, but there was an urgency in the narrowing of his gaze. Whoever this Kirby was, he meant something to Mancini.
“No.” Kirby’s smile turned on Mancini. “I’m here to tell him the truth so he stops trying to kill you.”
“The truth?” Ardan paused when the bartender set Mancini’s drink on the table with a napkin before he left again. “And what truth is that?”
“Nothing.” Mancini leaned forward in his chair, pointing a finger at Kirby. “Go upstairs. Now.”
