Page 56 of In The Dark
“I’ll be back.” I pat him, and he quietly huffs.
Assuming that’s him agreeing with me, I walk to the second level, now facing the large red door and knocking on it three times. I’m unsure if anyone will answer as it’s midday and the brothel won’t open for many hours still. After a few minutes, I knock again just as the small screen slides open, greeted by the large male from all the other nights. Dark eyes peer down at me.
He growls, “What do you want?”
“I’m here to see Bess.”
“You can see her tonight when we open,” he grumbles in annoyance and attempts to shut the screen. With it being so early in the day, the poor male was probably asleep.
“No, please! I need to see her. I don’t want service. I just need to talk to her. I have extra coins for your troubles,” I say with a persuading smile, jingling my coins. He suddenly shuts the window with a hard thud, leaving me to huff and turn to the street just as he opens the door.
“Hurry up,” he says, shoving a mask in my hands. “Shoes and weapons off.”
I quickly step inside when he holds out a hand, catching my gaze with a blank expression. I toss a few coins into his palm. He wiggles his fingers as if to indicate for more.
“This is all I brought.” I throw him a glare.
He wiggles them again, and I huff, dumping the rest into his palm as a small smile slowly creeps up his face.
“Follow me,” he grumbles.
I’m not sure what’s worse—the brothel being dead silent in the middle of the day or hearing all the moaning at night. Regardless, both kind of set me on edge.
We walk through the grand pleasure room, eerily quiet and not a moan to be heard in the large building. Instead of veeringto our right—toward Bess’s chamber—he continues to walk straight.
To the back of the building.
“I need to see Bess,” I say, only he ignores me, continuing his stroll in silence.
Opening a door that looks to be a large office, he steps to the left, allowing me passage. A brown-haired female in glasses sits behind a desk, sorting coins with her face pointed down in concentration. Two large wingback chairs sit across from the desk. Large enough to hide whoever sits in the chairs before her, as dark pants peek out from the side. She’s not alone.
I feel as if I’m interrupting a meeting.
“I have Miss…” The grumbly male looks at me, expecting me to say something.
“No names, remember?” I shrug, and he grunts like I have the gall to remind him of one oftheirrules. He exits the room without another word.
“Isa?” Bess calls out.
My eyes flick to the female at the desk, who is in fact Bess. Confusion crosses my face as well as hers, like she wasn’t expecting me to step through the door. How does she know my name? Then her jaw clenches as she eyes me, her gaze darting to the chair to the right of her desk. As if me strolling through set her on edge.
She’s fully dressed, glasses sliding down her nose as she stares at the chair across from her. Her straight brown hair falls around her face, brushing the loose tunic that hangs off her shoulders.
“Bess? I—do you own the Painted Bird?” I stutter, my words spilling out, though a tight smile lines her mouth.
“I do. Please sit,” she says, gesturing to the settee, but I’m frozen in place.
Of course, I knew someone had to own it, but Bess? All thistime she never mentioned it to me. My brows pinch, but I walk toward the empty seat anyway.
Just as I go to sit, I shoot a glance at the person occupying the settee next to me and pause. My head tilts, eyes narrowing as they shift from guest to Bess, when a sigh leaves my lips.
“Hello, little fawn. Nice to finally see you again,” Rydian drawls with a smirk.
19
I stare at Bess,pointing my thumb at Rydian as irritation mars my face. “Why is he here?”
She only saw him once before—briefly and with a mask—when he visited as a guest, so her calm expression does nothing to quiet my growing confusion as to why he’s sitting here.
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