A shadowed pain darkened his eyes at her words. "I should go back and prepare myself for—"
"No," she said, cutting him off. "This day is yours to do with as you please. You work too hard. You can't stay inside all the time."
His jaw flexed at her words. "I don't like being around people."
"And yet you don't mind having sex with them. I don't understand you."
He started away from her.
"Acheron," she said, pulling him to a stop. "I'm sorry. I just . . ." She paused and rubbed his hand. "You can't continue on the way you do. No one sees clients from waking to sleeping, day after day without stop. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the money you make for me, but at the rate you're going, you'll end up dead before you're one-and-twenty."
He gave a short, bitter laugh. "I told you, it's what I'm used to."
"And I told you that I wouldn't let you be hurt at my house. I take care of my people, especially those who are as popular as you are." She pressed a small purse into his hand. "Take the rest of the day and enjoy it. Go to a play. Go get drunk. Go enjoy being young while you can and I'll see you this evening."
The woman walked away from him.
Acheron gripped the purse in his hand before he tucked it inside his robes, then he headed in the opposite direction.
Torn, I stood there debating whom to follow.
I sent my bodyguard after the woman. I knew I couldn't meet with her openly lest someone see us together and report it to my father. So I had him invite her into a small hostel.
I paid the owner to let me into a small room in the back where I could speak to Catera without being seen.
A few minutes later, my bodyguard appeared with Catera by his side. He left us alone and went to stand guard outside the door.
"My lady," Catera said, shifting uneasily. "What can I do for you?"
"Please be seated." I indicated the chair in front of me.
Obviously nervous, she took a seat.
I softened my expression, hoping to calm her nerves. "I wanted to ask you about . . ." I hesitated at saying "my brother." Such knowledge might hurt him. "Acheron," I finished. "Where did you find him?"
She smiled knowingly. "He is handsome, is he not? But alas, he's not for sale. If my lady is interested in purchasing his services—"
"No!" I said, shocked at her suggestion. But then I realized it wasn't out of character for her to think that. "He . . . He reminds me of someone."
She nodded. "Yes, he's almost identical in looks to Prince Styxx. A lot of my clientele thinks so as well. It's been very lucrative for him."
Little did she know it was the most destructive part about my brother. "Where did you find him?" I repeated.
"Why do you want to know?"
I didn't dare tell her the truth. "Please," I said quietly. "I can pay you whatever you wish, I just need a few questions about him answered." I pressed a dozen gold solas into her hand.
She tucked them away. "I know not where he comes from. He refuses to speak of it. But by his accent, I assume he's Atlantean in origin."
"He came to you?"
She nodded. "He showed up at my back door several months ago. Dressed in rags and barefoot, he looked like any other beggar except that he was freshly washed and his clothes looked as if he had tried to keep them laundered. He was pale, thin and so weak from hunger that he could barely stand."
I was horrified by what she described.
"He said he was looking for work and wanted to know if I had anything he could do. I told him that I wasn't hiring, but he'd heard from another brothel that I was looking for a new prostitute. It was all I could do not to laugh at him. I couldn't imagine anyone paying for such a pitiful creature. My first impulse was to throw him out."
"Why didn't you?"
"I can't explain it. Even though he was ragged in appearance, there was something undeniable about him. Something compelling that sent heat over me. It made me want to touch him even though he was skinny and frail. Then he said the most unbelievable thing of all. He told me that if I would give him five minutes, he would give me three orgasms."
I gasped at her words.
She laughed at my expression. "I was surprised, too. I've been around plenty of boastful men in my time that such a claim was hardly unheard of. But I was a bit intrigued to hear that out of the mouth of someone so young. At first I thought he was like many of the young men who come to me, most of them with little to no experience, who think prostitution is an easy way to make money. They have no idea just how hard it is physically. How taxing it is spiritually. I figured he was from a farm and had come to the city to try and make it rich."
I swallowed in dread before I spoke. "You made him prove his words?"
She laughed. "My lady, at my age, I'm lucky to get three orgasms in a year. So I told him if he was as good as he said then I would hire him. What I found out was that even half-dead from starvation he was better than he claimed. I've been with the best and his skills are completely unrivaled."