“Ow!”
“Do you mean that, little girl? You want me to be your Daddy?”
I suck in a frantic breath, gripping his shoulders hard. That hurts. “Please.”
“Meet me tomorrow. Write your phone number down and leave it beneath the lamp on my desk. I will text you later with a time and place, and you will be there. Is that understood?”
I’m practically sobbing and squirming against the wood. “Yes, Daddy.”
He pinches my clit harder. “Yes, Daddy, I promise, and I’m not going to change my mind, and I won’t lose my nerve.”
I repeat, as quickly as I can, tears springing into my eyes, “Yes, Daddy, I promise, and I’m not going to change my mind, and I—ah—won’t lose my nerve.”
Levanter releases me and strokes a soothing finger over my clit. “Good girl. That’s much better.”
I take a deep breath, and my body goes limp in his arms. I stare at his mouth and reach down to clasp his wrist, trying to coax his fingers to give me what I want.
He smacks my hand away. “After you’ve written your number down, go and sit with your mother. I haven’t seen you eat. I’ll have someone bring you your favorites. Have you had any champagne?”
I shake my head. I don’t want cake. I don’t want champagne. I just want to come on his fingers.
“You may have one glass. I’ll send that over, too, but make sure you eat first.” He plants a kiss behind my ear and lingers there a moment, breathing in my scent.
I grip the lapels of his jacket as he tries to move away. “Please, please, Daddy. Can’t you touch me a little more?”
He takes me by the upper arms, moves me away from the door and leaves the room.
I slump against the wall, panting. He’s always been so eager to make me come. If I meet him tomorrow, I think I’m going to be punished.
I scrawl my number down on a notepad and shove it beneath the lamp on his large, shiny desk. Then I make it downstairs in a haze and sink into a seat next to Mama. She’s speaking with two ladies on her other side, gossiping hard about the fashionable new stores, which have opened in the last month and who’s been seen in them. A moment later, a waiter arrives with a stand of cakes and sandwiches and two glasses of champagne.
Mama takes hers, without breaking the flow of her conversation. I put the glass to my lips and swallow quickly, before remembering what Archduke Levanter said about eating before I drink any champagne.
What Daddy said.
My pulse beating wildly between my tightly crossed legs, I select a pink fondant sponge cake and eat it without tasting. As I lick the icing from my fingers, my directionless eyes land on Levanter. He’s on the other side of the garden, talking with a man and a woman, hands casually in his pockets. His gaze lands on me, just as my tongue curls around my thumb. I don’t mean it to be lascivious, but his eyes sharpen. My tongue moves against the roof of my mouth, wondering what it would feel like if it was his cock.
Somehow, I make it through the party, without giving away any of my lewd thoughts, though Mama scolds me on the way home for acting so bored with everything around me.
“If you’d only show any interest in one or two of the guests, then you might forge more connections.”
I remember my phone number wedged under Archduke Levanter’s lamp. “I’m trying, Mama.”
After eleven that night, just as I’m getting into bed, I receive a text from an unknown number.
2pm, 131G Beaumont Road.
That’s all it says. When I look up the address online, I see it’s a residential block of flats just off Royal Park. Not a hotel. Relief washes over me, and I realize how worried I was that he’d want to meet me at Hotel Ivera, where people know me. I’d be too preoccupied with the chambermaid who’d be cleaning our room after, because she’d know what we’d been up to, and no one can know.
I lay back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Occasionally, while I worked at the hotel, the male guests propositioned me in the halls or when I went into their rooms to tidy. Some of them were good-looking. Others offered me money, often more than I’d make in six months, but I still didn’t want anything to do with them. The thought of pretending to like them, just to get money out of them, made me feel sick. I can lie about some things, if I need to, but I can’t fake how I feel.Chapter ThirteenDevrimThe apartment is a sublet. It was easy to arrange swiftly online, and I paid six months’ rent in advance. Who knows how long this will last? Maybe, not even a day, if Wraye stands me up.