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Grace had to remind herself that she was the owner of a brothel. None of the imagery in the house should have surprised her. And yet it did. The doors wide open, people were engaging in debauchery of every kind. Men were licking women in all the places, people were tied to various objects in the house, men were engaging in relations with other men, some people were in a group together, and a woman was penetrating a man with a special article from behind.

Grace knew all about the acts taking place in this house, she just never expected to see them all in one day, out in the open, and not in a brothel setting.

“This is rather nauseating,” Ford whispered close to her ear.

Grace let out a chuckle. “Do not show your true feelings.”

“Is this what your brothel looks like?”

Grace darted a side glance toward him. “No, we are more sophisticated than that. We actually provide privacy to our clients and the harlots.”

“Unless someone pays to watch them.”

Her gaze flicked to him once more. “Exactly.”

Grace and Ford moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors, their eyes darting from one partially open door to the next. The hallway echoed with moans and screams, creating an unsettling atmosphere. Grace felt conflicted, her body responding to the sounds of pleasure while her mind recoiled at the sights around them.

She found herself caught between an unwanted spark of arousal and a deep sense of disgust. She wished she could make it through the party with her eyes closed.

But she couldn’t afford to look away. They had a job to do, and it required her full attention. So, Grace pressed on, jaw clenched, trying to ignore her body’s confusing signals.

As they rounded a corner, a portly gentleman with a ruddy complexion stumbled into their path. His shirt missing, and the coat wide open at the lapels, he proudly displayed his rounded stomach. His bleary eyes fixed on Grace, a lecherous grin spread across his face.

“Oh, yours is beautiful,” he slurred, addressing Ford but leering at Grace. “Willing to share?” Without warning, he reached out, his meaty hand attempting to graze her cheek.

Ford’s reaction was instantaneous. He stepped forward, his hand shooting out to intercept the man’s arm.

“Touch her and die,” Ford growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The man stumbled back a step in surprise, then let out a booming laugh. “Have never seen a man so possessive of his whore,” he chortled. “We all share here.”

Ford’s jaw clenched, his free hand curling into a fist at his side. “I will happily share your teeth after I shatter them with my fist,” he snarled, “but that’s about all I am willing to share.”

Grace stepped smoothly between the two men. She laid a calming hand on Ford’s chest while favoring the stranger with a coy smile. “Don’t pay attention, mon cherie,” she purred. “He gets wild like a beast when he is not satisfied. I will find you in a bit.” She punctuated her words with a saucy wink.

The man’s eyes lit up with anticipation.

Grace grinned, pulling Ford away by the lapels of his coat. As soon as the portly man was out of earshot, Grace gripped Ford’s arm tightly, steering him down the hallway. “What in the devil do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you mean?” he barked.

“You are supposed to act as if you belong,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Ford’s posture remained rigid, his eyes darting suspiciously to every passing figure. “You mean, watch you please other men?”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Have I done that so far? And yet I manage not to draw attention to us, unlike you.”

“I don’t share my women,” Ford gritted out.

Grace threw him a sidelong glance, one eyebrow arched. “A good thing I am not one of your women, then.”

Their bickering ceased as they approached another open door. Inside, they caught a glimpse of Porter, his back to them as a leather whip cracked against his skin.

“Here he is,” Grace whispered.

Ford cleared his throat. “He seems busy enough.”

“Yes. Perfect timing.”