Moments later,

Aria

The man who wore Julian’s face didn't flinch. He remained perfectly still, his hands resting flat on the obsidian floor, his expression a mask of practiced, sultry submission.

"I don't know what you mean, My Lady," he purred, that silky baritone vibrating with just the right amount of fear. "I am but a humble servant from the Eastern Brothels. My only purpose is your pleasure."

I didn't buy it for a second. I leaned back, my eyes tracking the slight, involuntary twitch of his neck.

"Funny," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Because a 'humble servant' doesn't have the pulse rate of a marathon...