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“Are you going to make me do anything perverted?”
“No,” he answers. “But I have my part to play and you must play it as well, or we will not get what we need from him.”
Understanding dawned over me, and I softened my gaze. “You’re Ambrose d’Vil, king of vampires and the Barrows,” I say, only understanding in my voice. If this man could have any knowledge about who to make pay for Deidre, I’ll do whatever it takes. “What role do you need me to be? Sugar baby? Devoted follower? Aloof mistress?”
Ambrose’s stony expression changes as he gives me a satisfied look. He frees my foot and stands before holding his hand out. I put my hand in his, allowing him to help me rise onto the tall shoes. He keeps my hand raised, escorting me back before the mirror so I can take in the entire look. He takes a half step back, becoming my shadow in the mirror.
I barely take in the shoes’ effect, entranced by our reflection. I expected my feeling of power would diminish with Ambrose behind me, given that he dominates whatever room he’s in. A cold
Ambrose is stunning in his tailored classic black on black ensemble. Rather than clashing with different hues of black, we complement each other and the dark color isn’t washing me out. The opposite, in fact.
“Black suits you,” Ambrose says, and when I look up at his reflection, his eyes are taking me in.
“I can say the same,” I answer. “Thank you for this.”
His gold eyes meet my brown ones. “I take care of what is mine. Now, let’s go. Ashe is waiting for us.”
Comfort wraps around my shoulders at his words, and I sway towards him slightly. When he talks like that, being his doesn’t make me feel chained. Ambrose follows me out of our supposedly shared suite and walks beside me down the flights of stairs, his hands in his pockets.
“What’s my reputation, Eloise?” he asks and I look at him from the corner of my eye, my hand sliding over the banister as we descend.
“Powerful, dangerous, controlling, deals in bargains,” I list off without hesitation. “You’re the boogeyman of Topside, a monster not to be fucked with. You control the Barrows.”
“Precisely.” Ambrose places a hand near my lower back, ushering me through the rooms that’ll lead to the garage. “I am a king, like those of old, and no one questions me. Especially not you tonight, Eloise. You know what power is to those who run Topside. Tonight, you are an example of my power. I’m the king of a dark world, and to Garner you are an eager subject.”
I nod my understanding as we approach the garage door.
“And, Eloise,” he says. I stop at my name and tilt my face up to look at him, curious. His eyes are darker now, and I notice how close we are. My breath stills in my lungs, waiting. He tips his head closer, and I’m pinned under his look. “If you disobey me, you will be punished.”
* * *
I’ve never beento this area of Newgate, with the ultra-modern high-rises, but before now I guess I never had a reason too. After his promise of punishment, I’m quiet. Not because I’m afraid of him. Because I’m too busy trying to avoid thinking about all the punishments and how much I worry I’d enjoy them.
The elevator doors open to the foyer of the restaurant, which takes up the entire floor of the skyscraper, and Ambrose gives me a look, a silent question of my resolve. I nod, determined to ignore the reactions this vampire is causing in my body and focus on my role. I’ll play it by ear, depending on how Michael Garner reacts. On the drive, I recalled why his name was familiar. He’s been in the news a lot, always for something political or for the government. Who knows, he could be as wholesome as he appears; if he’s having dinner with Ambrose, though, he’s probably as dirty as the rest.
Ambrose offers his arm and guides my hand into the crook of his elbow as we step out of the elevator. The host, a tall olive-skinned man with a bald head, steps away from the podium at our arrival.
“Mr. d’Vil. It is good to see you again,” he says with a polite tilt of his head. “Mr. Garner is already seated. May I show you to the room?”
Ambrose doesn’t offer a verbal response, just a seemingly irritated jerk of the chin. Stealing a glance at his expression before we walk through the open double doors, I see the icy mask he wore when I first walked into his office. Taking his cue, I school my features so that I’m his aloof companion, ignoring the looks other diners give us.
Because there are certainly people looking. I squeeze Ambrose’s arm a bit tighter, needing his presence to ground me as we stride between tables. The restaurant is one of those low-lit places with leather padded chairs and perfectly white long tablecloths over each table. The walls are a dark reddish brown with gold fabric hanging between the massive windows that overlook Newgate. Between the lighting and warm colors, it’s as if each table is secluded in its own private world, despite being less than five feet from its neighbor.
I make eye contact with an older white man, his hair thinning and skin soft with age. From the cut of the straining suit jacket and the fancy watch on his wrist, he’s full of the money a place like this exists, and it’s confirmed by the slim, overly dolled up young woman across from him. He squares his shoulders as we approach, his eyes darting to Ambrose before back to me. Or, more accurately, to my breasts and then to my leg which is playing peek-a-boo with every step.
I can’t blame him. My tits totally look sexy in this dress.
When he meets my gaze again, we’re almost to the table and his companion turns to see what’s captured her date’s interest. I bring my other hand up to Ambrose’s arm, and give the older man a quick up and down before looking at him disdainfully. I wait for the irritated expression to form on his face before meeting the gaze of his date. She has to be younger than me. I have absolutely no issue with sugar babies, and I meet her eyes to give her a sincere smile. I’m not after her piggy bank, and she gives me an answering smile with a quick dart to Ambrose, as if saying, “Well done.”
We pass their table and Ambrose lowers his head enough to speak into my ear. “Do you enjoy emasculating men?”
I bite the inside of my lip to control my reaction, but I can’t stop the light heat on my cheeks. Figuring I should just own it, I look up at him, letting out my Cheshire grin. But then I hesitate, my smile faltering. “Should I not have? I don’t want to mess this up.” The consequences if I mess up are more than whatever punishment Ambrose has in mind.
The slow grin Ambrose gives me is one of pure predatory pride. “I enjoy watching you do so. Do not stop on my account, ma belle lionne.”
Warmth curls in my core, but the new confidence straightening my shoulders and spine is what holds my attention as we walk into the private dining room with a single table in the middle. Ambrose reaches up and covers my hand with his cool one, giving it a slight squeeze as if to tell me our game has started.
I smile darkly, eager to see this through for Deidre.
