“I prefer to think of it as precision.” I glance at the guards. “Can’t we be alone? I feel like they’re going to eat me.”
“I’m sorry. They are here for my protection. I never go anywhere without them. A flaw in my physical design. Weak bones.” The lithe man sighs as if he shoulders the greatest of burdens. “They never tell you this, but the peril of power is the people that come with it. Servants, bodyguards, aides. So many eyes and ears and little reptile thoughts in their brains. All those years I wondered what the Golds would do if they knew what went on inside our skulls. I don’t think they did, or they would have exterminated the lot of us. Now I sit where they sit and I know what my men think. It’s an advantage.”
“And what do they think?” I ask, sipping my wine to try and calm myself down. My heart’s slamming in my chest. It hasn’t stopped since I saw the Obsidian hand in the ant colony. I dry my palms on my pant legs.
“Oh, tedious things. That they could cave my skull in with a wine bottle or slit my throat as I sleep or throw me out a window. The little fantasies of murder are what keep servants sane. They tell themselves they allow me my power. And if ever I become too dreadful, they will do me in and maybe take over. But of course they never do. They procrastinate their vengeance because deep down, they are afraid not just of me, but like all people they fear their own fantasies. Easier to cherish them and keep them inside where they are in control. Possible.”
He forks a serving of charred octopus swimming in a dark vinegar sauce onto my plate. The sweet scent combined with my nausea almost makes me gag.
“Do you think I’m afraid of you?” I ask.
“Isn’t that the heart of desire? No one wants to fuck what they don’t fear, because then there’s no validation from it, no power derived.”
“Interesting opinion.”
“That is why Roses were created. The first Pinks were more beautiful than we are now, but there was nothing inside them. No content beneath the shine. They were toys. Once you used one, the lust evaporated. So the Golds made us into inscrutable enigmas to hold their attention, masters of art, sex, music, and emotion. Enigmas they could never fully understand, and that lack of understanding is the heart of fear.”
“So that was a yes.”
“That was a yes. You are afraid.”
I refill his glass, my hand trembling only slightly. He notices and thinks it’s from desire, not zoladone withdrawal and sack-shriveling fear. “I’m curious, Ephraim. Why did you come back so soon? You have all the money you could ever need.”
“Can people like you and me ever have all we need?” I ask.
He smiles. “You’re insatiable. I love it. The best thing about this new world…” He waves to his trophies. “There’s always more to take. But you didn’t answer my question.” His eyes go cold and he ignores the wine I poured for him. “Come now. Answer it.”
“I want more.” I pander, praying he can’t see through this two-bit bullshit. “More than contracts. More than filling a bank account. There’s no satisfaction to it. I want more out of this life than just money.”
“And what do you think we make here?”
“After the kidnapping, I see there’s more than money at play. You make power.”
“Yes. Yes. That is a good reason to return.”
“That and to visit the kiddies,” I say with a laugh that comes out too loud.
He smiles, but watches me, the comment arousing his suspicion. Dammit, Eph, stick to the script. I glance at the ant colony.
“What do you imagine my role would be here?” I ask, deflecting.
He drinks his wine and plays a finger on the edge of his glass. “Well, you would work under me, of course. The rest would depend upon your imagination.” I look past him to the patio outside. The glass is smoked, but I see the obscured outline of his personal yacht. The keys dangle from a gold chain on his neck. There’s my exit.
“And professionally?” I ask.
He smiles. “As you have no doubt noticed, the era of the freelancer, the prowler, is coming to an end. What an era it was. So much art, so many treasures ripe for the picking. It gave birth to you. To me. But now most of the treasures are consolidated and hoarded by a small enclave of individuals. We must turn our gaze outward before we cannibalize ourselves. Find new ways to steal. That is where you would come in.” He pours himself more wine. “I will need an architect who can create new unconventional streams of income. And I think that man could be you.”
It’s going to go like this for hours, I realize. The dance is more than half the fun to a man like him. But that still won’t take the Obsidians from the room. If I ask about the children again, it might cost me my hands. And I’m not a good enough liar to keep pace with this prim courtesan. So instead, I lean back and slide my leg under the table to the inside of his right calf. “Bored now,” I say. “Let’s change topics.” He watches me, eyes sparkling. He wets his lips, small, warm breaths escaping them as I slide my foot up his leg to the inside of his thigh. I feel him harden, so I push my foot gently down, encouraging him. Then, with a sigh, I pull my foot back to its original position on the floor. “But I don’t play with an audience.”
“Hvardin, Jorlnak…” He snaps his fingers at the Obsidians and they leave the room through the double doors. The Duke smooths out his robe and moves his fingers along the controls of an audio system. The deep percussion of synth music thuds through the room like the heartbeat in my chest, but the lights stay bright. He leans back. “Come around the table.” I walk around the table, my body numb with trepidation, my gut grumbling for zoladone. He’s moved his chair back so there’s room for me. He reaches for the tie to his robe, a bright, hungry look in his eyes as I stand over him, blood thundering in my ears. The ghost of a smile plays over his lips. His slender hand runs from my knee up to my hip. The music beats faster, and I realize it’s synced to his heart rate. “Go to your knees.” I stand there looking down at his soft face and see the predatory selfishness there. It eats the beauty like a cancer. “On your knees,” he says in irritation. My heart sticks a beat, like I stand on the edge of a cliff. Time to jump.
“Nah. I’m good.”
“I said…”