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“I wasn’t hungry,” I said, shivering a little. My body can’t decide if it’s warm or cold. He clears his throat and I glance at him.
“And now?” He asks, eyebrow quirked.
“I’m just tired,” I protest. He frowns.
“Sit.” He gestures through to the dining room table, and I do as he says. He disappears through another door, presumably to where the kitchen is, and I hear some clinking noises, before he comes back out a few minutes later with two plates. There’s a big sandwich on each, and he sets it down in front of me. “Eat.” It’s an order, not a request.
“Hadrion, it’s the middle of the night, I just want to go to bed--“
“I’ll be here when you’re done eating. You can eat, and go straight to bed, and I’ll even tuck you in, if that’s what you need,” he says, and now I know he’s teasing me, a taunting lilt to his voice. “Elenora will be up early in the morning, and breakfast will be more of the same, but that’s a long time from now. So eat.” He doesn’t touch his food until I do, and even then, he just seems to want to watch me eat it. I take a few bites, and then the hunger hits me like a wave. Before I know it, I’ve polished off the entire sandwich, and I’m staring at his, untouched and delicious-looking.
“Here,” he says, sliding his plate over to me. “You can have the rest of mine. I’m not really hungry.” He doesn’t watch me devour the rest of the sandwich, and instead, gets up, clearing our plates and glasses, disappearing into the kitchen again. My stomach protests about half-way through his sandwich and I sag back against the seat with a grateful sigh.
When he returns, he stands in the doorway, watching me.
“Go to sleep,” he says, his expression thrown in shadow from where he is in relation to the chandelier. “Tomorrow is going to be a busy, intensive day.”
“What?”
“I’m giving you a crash course on life here in Uptown,” he replies, and steps forward. I can see his face better, and he looks amused. “So you’ll want to get some rest.” He pauses, and watches me for several moments, silently, and then leaves the room. Silence draws around me, his footsteps fading into the distance, and I glance down at the plate on the table with his leftovers. I get the feeling that he would want me to leave it for Elenora to deal with. The less nosing around I do, the better. Feeling bad and also a bit luxurious about it, I abandon the dish on the table before making my way to the bathroom.
In the mirror, I stare at myself. I look a little pale, but mostly just tired. It was a busy, stressful night, but the job went well. But I managed it, I proved to myself I could handle a difficult situation. I wash up and slip into my bedroom, the dim light beside the bed the only source of illumination.
As I pull off my dress and drop it into the laundry hamper next to the wardrobe, I turn around and look at the dresser for the valet tray to lay my mother’s necklace. I stop short.
On the valet tray are two things that were not there earlier in the evening. One is a small jewellery box, covered in soft black velvet. The other is the ivy plant from downstairs in the office, repotted, in a prettier terra cot pot, trading out from the plastic one it was in before.
With shaking hands, I reach for the jewellery box.
I open it up, the hinge making a soft cracking sound. Inside, on a bed of dark pomegranate red leather, is a simple gold chain, milled and cut to throw off sparkles and catch the light no matter what angle it’s held at. It’s an exact match in color for thependant around my neck, but newer.
My fingers lift to my neck, and I trace it over the old, worn thong that holds the pendant right now. It’s the perfect little gift, but no note as to from who.
But I know in my heart there’s only one person, realistically, who could have put these things.
And his name is Hadrion Mortaine.
10
Hadrion
Katy is waiting in the breakfast area, dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple tank top, her hair down and slightly tangled, a cup of coffee in her hand. She’s barefoot, by the side-board as she stirs cream into her coffee.
“Morning,” she says, her voice slightly rough, and she looks a little dazed, and entirely too fuckable. I try not to grit my teeth as my eyes slide over her, gratification and warmth coiling in my core. She’s wearing the necklace chain I left her, the pendant hanging from it. Something fills me from the inside out, at the thought of her not just wearing clothing that I’ve supplied her with, but jewelry I’ve given her.
“Good morning,” I say, and gesture for her to sit down. She does, and I join her, watching as she stirs her coffee. She looks tired but radiant, expectant for the day ahead. There’s no breakfast laid out today; I’d asked Elenora for something simpler, as I wanted to get right into Katy’s training. “Did you sleep well?”
She nods.
“How was your first night at the club? Was the bar lead satisfactory?” I ask, teasing her slightly, and her cheeks go pink.
“Livvie is very good,” she replies. “But I’m not sure why you think I would know anything about private member bars.” She clears her throat. “Do you always have the girls who work for you live here?”
Not always. A few times. So far, it hasn’t worked out like I had hoped, but then none of them had possessed the key. I had allowed myself to be distracted by petty things, and mortal women. But with Katy... no, there is good reason for me to keep her here, under my thumb, under watch all the time.
The key, hanging heavily against the delicate skin of her decolletage.
“I do, yes,” I say, and she flushes and takes a sip of her coffee.
