The Ice Princess (Princes #3.5)(10)

Coral pushed the cruel thought from her mind. She had errands to run and if she were quick she might leave the Grotto before Jimmy rose. Quickly she dressed and hurried through the little passage, but her luck ran out when she reached the main hall. Jimmy leaned against the wall as if he'd been waiting for her. Her heart jumped nervously at the sight.

"Another late night, Aphrodite?" He shook his head in mock concern. "And I hear Captain Wargate spent the night in your rooms. Again."

She made to move past him. "I've an appointment—"

He caught her arm roughly. "You're not taking your services elsewhere, are you, sweet?"

"Of course not." She inhaled to calm the panicked fluttering in her breast.

He squeezed, pinching her flesh against her bones painfully. "Because I wouldn't like to have to discipline you, Aphrodite, not when you've suddenly proved so very profitable again."

She stared, truly shocked now. "You know I don't entertain. Not anymore. After Captain Wargate's seven nights are up--"

"The gentlemen will be clamoring to try you." Jimmy grinned like the evil imp he was. "We simply can't afford to let this opportunity slide, sweet."

"Jimmy—"

He suddenly let go of her arm, causing her to stumble back. "I think we'll make the Red Room solely yours. It'll lend a touch of exclusivity to your wares. Now don't let the captain tire you out. I've already got the customers lining up for your first free night."

He grinned again and strolled away down the hall.

Coral pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the frantic beat of her heart. Dear God, if Jimmy truly decided to whore her out, there was nothing she could do to defend herself. He held the majority share in the Grotto, had the power to toss her into the street. And worse, he had the power to make the lives of all those who worked in Aphrodite’s Grotto—the working boys and women, the maids and cooks, even the bully boys—a living hell. Jimmy could make her go back to being a common whore. Go back to suffering under strange men every night.

No. Simply no. She could not do that again—which made her appointment this morning even more urgent. Coral turned and fled down the Grotto's back staircase.

It was late by the time she returned that night. She crept up the back stairs of the Grotto. The cries of the merrymakers in the front of the building were muted but quite discernible. She'd lived in this place for over two years, yet she felt none of the warmth one should when returning home. But then what kind of fool expected the warmth of home from a brothel?

Coral paused outside the door to her room. It looked no different than it had this morning, but she sensed he was already here. She compressed her lips. He was occupying entirely too much of her thoughts. It wouldn't do. She was the madam of the most infamous brothel in London. She'd used and tossed aside men much more powerful than he. She was Aphrodite. And after these seven days were up she'd never see him again in this lifetime.

She would be the one to use and forget, not he.

So she slipped her wrap from her shoulders, tugged her bodice a little lower, and tilted her chin as she opened the door to her little room. He sat at her table, his long legs sprawled before him in perfect comfort, his eyes closed, his arms crossed over his chest as if he owned the room. The sight irritated her beyond reason.

She shut the door behind her over-hard. "Good evening, Captain Wargate."

"Isaac," he drawled without opening his eyes. "And a good evening to you as well, Coral."

She strolled toward him, dropping her wrap on the bed as she passed it. His mere presence was an irritation, a prickling beneath her skin. What did he want with her? What game was he playing?

"A gentleman would rise on the entrance of a lady," she said, sharper than she'd meant, but then he was wearing away the shell of her artifice. "Oh, but I forgot, I'm not a lady am I?" She was by the dresser now and she twitched the mirror slightly to the left. "I'm a whore—a very, very high priced whore. And yet you merely sit there and talk to me. Or play draughts. What kind of man wants to talk to a whore?" She flicked too jerkily at the miniature and it fell to the floor with a clatter. She stared at it, blinking angrily. Damn it! Why couldn't she control her mouth with him?

From behind her he sighed. "Come sit down, Coral."

She turned to him, folding her arms. "Why should I?"

His wide mouth curved into a surprisingly sweet smile, lighting his hawkish eyes and pressing a dimple into one hard cheek. He looked almost boyish. She did not want to be attracted to this man. "Because I bought some meat pies for our supper."

He bent and picked up a cloth bag from his feet and took out a wrapped bundle. The moment he unfolded the bundle, the aroma of hot meat pies filled the room, making her inhale deeply in appreciation.

She came to the table with ill grace. "Why?"

"Why what?" he murmured without looking up from the task of placing the pies on two plates.

"Why bring me dinner?" She was honestly confused. She didn't know what this man wanted at all and the oddity of it kept her off balance.

"Because I'm hungry?" He produced a bottle of wine and poured two glasses.

"I told you, I don't drink with customers," she said as she sat.

He pushed the wineglass toward her without speaking, only his black eyes gave ironic challenge.