The King and the Courtesan (46 page)

We went shopping afterward, but my heart really wasn’t in it. I just wanted to go home and sleep. After purchasing one dress, Victor took me home, and I collapsed onto Ezekiel’s bed. I felt like I needed to cry, but I couldn’t. I reached into my purse and pulled out the money Blade had given me early that morning. I snuck it under the mattress, then pulled it back out. Under the mattress was too easy. He could find it there.

I spent two hours thinking of hiding places, putting the money there, and then changing my mind. I thought of everything: the hamper, the rug, the curtains. For each one, I came up with a scenario in which Ezekiel would find it. At last, I found a small sliver of room underneath the mirror, where it was coming apart from its wooden frame. I couldn’t think of a reason Ezekiel might be looking around the mirror, outside of looking in it.

I fell asleep afterward and woke up around dinnertime. When I slipped downstairs in search of food, I was startled by Ezekiel. He had just come in.

“You said—you said two days,” I blurted stupidly. I realized I was hardly in a presentable state, my feet bare, my makeup smudged, and my hair uncombed.

“By now, you should know that not everything goes according to plan.” Ezekiel looked me over in disdain. “And by now, you should know not to wander about the apartment looking like that.”

“I-I’m sorry. I thought…”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m here or not. You must look presentable for my entire staff. Do you understand?”

He seemed to be in a foul mood, so I quickly nodded, blushing. “O-of course, Ezekiel. I-I’ll go up and—”

“And what have I said about the stuttering? If you aren’t going to take the time to say it right, don’t say anything at all.”

I had just woken up, and after the emotional trauma of the past few days, I was not in the condition to take his criticism lightly. I felt tears gather in the corners of my eyes. I didn’t know
why
. Maybe this pregnancy was making me weepier than usual. I hated it. Crying because Ezekiel said a few less-than-kind words was hardly enough to set me off.

I bowed my head. “Yes, Ezekiel.”

“Go upstairs and put yourself together. Don’t come down until you’re properly groomed. Then you may eat dinner.”

I went back upstairs, feeling a concoction of negative emotions I couldn’t describe. I wanted to throw something and hug something at the same time. I missed my sister. I wished I’d been able to stay there another night.

The tears subsided, though. I was able to sit and put on my makeup calmly, like a robot might. I straightened my unruly curls, powdered my freckles, and put on all the trappings of a well-paid courtesan, from the diamond earrings to the designer six-inch heels. After forty-five minutes of grooming, I finally went downstairs, determined to remain as composed as possible. Like Blade, Ezekiel didn’t care whether or not I was feeling emotional. Tears only served to annoy him.

Ezekiel was seated at the dining table, looking at his tablet and frowning. Knowing all the rules I’d broken in the past twenty-four hours, I had a sudden desire to prove myself. Instead of simply sitting down and eating the salad that had already been placed at my usual chair, I went straight to Ezekiel. I stood behind him, slipping my hands along his shoulders. For a moment, I wondered if he’d strike out or yell at me for it—he wasn’t used to outward affection, after all—but he just reached up and ran a thumb lightly along my hand.

“I apologize for earlier,” I whispered, working my fingers along the hard knots in his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”

Ezekiel didn’t reply for a long time, only stared at his tablet in silence. Finally, he took a bite from his salad and muttered, “You know better.”

“I do.” I kept my voice soft and meek. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not a trophy wife,” he said. “You can’t just lie around as you please and expect me to dote on you.”

“I know.”

“You may sit down now.”

Cowed, I went to my place at the table and sat. I looked up at Ezekiel occasionally between bites of salad, but he appeared utterly uninterested in me. I don’t know why, but I felt a deep sense of shame. I was once happy when Ezekiel ignored me. But with time, I began to crave his approval. I thought a lot about why I needed his attention when I never needed such from a man before.

Perhaps it was because he’d become the first man I lived with—at least the first one who didn’t come home drunk and violent like my mother’s past boyfriends. Perhaps I was beginning to see him as some twisted kind of father figure. A father figure I slept with. I knew it didn’t make any sense, but there it was. No one said the human psyche made much sense. My whole life, I wanted a man who was predictable, who treated me with some sense of dignity, who valued me more than the fee I charged. I
knew
Ezekiel didn’t consider me equal to him. But he
did
see me as an employee, not a dog on a chain. Even being valued as an employee was something new. No matter how little Ezekiel valued my life, he still saw me as…what? More than a woman? That’s all Blade saw when he looked at me. Ezekiel saw me as something else, though I still wasn’t quite sure
what
.

I shook my head. No matter what Ezekiel saw me as, he’d still kill me if I inconvenienced him. My life had no value—only my services. Just because he saw me no differently than his bodyguards and his other henchmen didn’t mean that I was an equal.

Ezekiel was usually gone, but for the next two weeks, he was everywhere I was, taking me places and spending time with me as if he suddenly remembered what he was paying me for. We went to an opera, something I’d never attended and was shocked to find I enjoyed—I never considered myself much of a cultured person. Even though it was in another language, I could read the translations projected above the stage, and the actors did their best to communicate the jokes. Ezekiel took me to an art museum and explained some of the more abstract art, though I still found it too far above my head.

We even went golfing, despite the chilly weather. They were predicting snow in the next few days, but it didn’t dip below an average fall temperature the day we took to the green, and it was one of the few times I saw Ezekiel abandon his dark suit for beige slacks and a white sweater. He even allowed me to wear leggings, because, considering the temperature, it would have been torture to stand outside for three hours with bare legs. Bruce and Garrett golfed with Ezekiel and even allowed me a few swings, though they both guffawed behind closed fists when my shots were low and short. I didn’t proclaim to be an excellent sportswoman. I didn’t have much strength in either half of my body. But Bruce and Garrett sobered when Ezekiel tossed them a look.

I had a feeling Ezekiel knew something. Why wasn’t he away on business as usual? Did he want to keep an eye on me? I was never sure, and I didn’t perceive his mood as being out of sorts. He was always articulate, calm, and unruffled, as if owning half of Zinya City were as easy as brushing his hair.

I also worried about the physical effects of my pregnancy. I wasn’t showing yet, but my breasts felt swollen and tender, and some days I felt too nauseous to move more than ten steps from the bathroom. I faked other symptoms, telling Ezekiel I had the flu. I ignored my food cravings. I was good at ignoring cravings by now, considering I was cutting back on my dust intake. Luckily, Ezekiel wasn’t around
all
the time—he did work during the day—so I let my sickness show the most when I was alone. Emotions and hormones were twirling around inside me, and it took all my self-control to keep a harness on them. Perhaps a girl with a little less self-preservation might let her signs show, but I knew what waited for me if Ezekiel found out.

With Ezekiel around, it was both impossible to pay Blade back or find Kayle, who was notorious around Metro for doing cheap, discrete abortions. I already knew about him—you had to if you ran around with prostitutes on a daily basis. Accidents happened.

My time was running out. Once I got too big, not only would Kayle’s usual operation no longer be an option, but also, Ezekiel would figure it out. He wasn’t stupid, and one more night spent vomiting in the bathroom would give me away.

This entire disaster haunted me all day and sometimes all night. I couldn’t escape the terror. Every time I almost forgot about it, I’d see a mother with a baby in her arms or a grizzly murder in a movie. Everything reminded me of what I had to do, and how impossible it was to get it done. Some nights, I considered telling Ezekiel and letting him shoot me. After all, what did I have to live for? I wasn’t a suicidal person—I’d always fought my depression with work or friends—but I didn’t consider this angle a particularly
illogical
one. Suicidal people were illogical.
Martyrs
were logical. I wasn’t a martyr because I had nothing to fight for, but I knew I was cornered. Even if I somehow lived, then what? I’d go back to being Ezekiel’s whore of convenience. I’d still be stuck in his apartment, kept as a pretty jewel, only worn out on the town when needed to impress someone. How long would that last? Years? Until I developed a wrinkle? Until some bigger, wealthier drug lord killed Ezekiel?

My life had dwindled down to this. I grew depressed. I tried my best to make Ezekiel happy in some hope that it would save my ass later. However, Ezekiel was impossible to read, and an outsider would say he was indifferent. When I did something that pleased him, he’d nod. When I did something he didn’t like, he’d chide me in that blank, yet cruel, voice, and I’d be ashamed. There was a passion inside of him, but not for me—only for
controlling
me and those around him. His eyes only lit up when he discussed power and ways to attain more of it.

* * *

Ezekiel decided to host a meet-and-greet gala in his penthouse, the first since I’d arrived. I always thought his penthouse was cold and unforgivable, but when filled with people in their finest garments, chatting and laughing politely, it felt so different. Not
warm
, but full at least. Usually, it was so empty and quiet.

Ezekiel bought me a dress for the event. Well, his credit card bought it for me, and then he approved it when I modeled for him the night before. This gown actually reached the floor, though my leg protruded from a long slit when I walked. I wore my biggest diamonds, and Rosa even showed up to make sure my hair and makeup were perfect. We didn’t talk. Maybe at one point, we’d been on the precipice of being friends.

Not anymore.

I spent half the night on Ezekiel’s arm. You could tell he frightened people more than he enchanted them. They feared his finding out how he unnerved them. So they’d smile and laugh and attempt to fake the ease with which they interacted. The women complimented me and did their best to make small talk, but you could tell they were scared of me, too. Not because I was an intimidating person, but because they all knew why I was there, what Ezekiel used me for. I wasn’t one of them.

The other half of the night, I spent alone. Ezekiel took several of the men to discuss business. It was disheartening to see he hadn’t anything to discuss with a single woman. I’d heard there were rich, successful, intelligent women out there somewhere, but I’d never seen one. I wondered if they didn’t really exist, or if Ezekiel just didn’t do business with them. As far as I could tell, the only way for a woman to access the world of splendor and grandeur was by latching onto a man’s arm. This wasn’t a new concept. I’d been told and
shown
this since I was a little girl.

Didn’t make it less sad, though.

The women avoided me once Ezekiel was gone. This didn’t shock me. After wandering around aimlessly for some time, I went back to his room. I was planning on waiting for Ezekiel, but as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, the entire weight of my failures and incompetence collapsed on top of me, and I started to cry. Then—
whomp!
—just like that, my anxiety triggered the withdrawal symptoms that had been only minimal before. I found that when my emotions bottomed out, the shaking and sweating came back as if my body remembered I hadn’t taken dust in two days. I wasn’t sure if this was normal, but the human will was an amazing thing. If I were lounging around my own apartment, safe and warm, my pregnancy and withdrawal probably would have landed me in the hospital. But it seemed every molecule of this body knew how much was at stake if I showed weakness. Every cell had banded together like some sort of militia, holding back the wave of symptoms. It really did amaze me, and I didn’t think it likely. But if your mind had the ability to convince you that you were sick when you weren’t, it also had the capacity to convince you that you were healthy.

I stumbled to the bathroom and vomited twice. That simply made the shaking worse, and sweat bled through the bodice of my dress. My temperature spiked, and I rushed to remove my clothing. No matter how hot I felt, my teeth chattered. I looked at myself in the mirror. My skin had gone paper white, and I gasped at the immediate change.

I heard my phone ring back in the bedroom. I stumbled over and answered it, my hand trembling so hard I had to hold my wrist with my other hand just to keep the phone steady.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Everyone is leaving now. I will be up there in ten minutes.”

I gulped. “All right.”

Ezekiel hung up. I fell to my knees on the floor and grabbled for the suitcase where I knew my dust was. Nothing mattered more than getting myself back together. Even if it was just a little, it would put my settings back on default.

I hadn’t shot up in some time, but I had no problem remembering how it was done. A minute later, the needle sank into my skin. Despite the initial burn of the needle piercing flesh, all I felt was relief. It took about thirty seconds for it to reach my brain, but when it did, I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. The shaking was still there but less pronounced. The sweating stopped and the room returned to normal.

Despite being slightly high, I managed to clean everything up and shove the dust under the bed. I went to the bathroom to slip back into my dress. When I emerged, Ezekiel was in the doorway, appearing as if he were a ghost.