There’s nothing you can do about it now, he told himself grimly. Extract the information and get the hell out.
“Come join me, sir,” Cherise said in a throaty voice.
Her use of sir made him recoil. During sexual play, he only wanted to hear Livy address him that way. Only wanted to play with her and her alone.
“You are doing fine on your own,” he said dismissively. “Carry on.”
His disinterest perversely egged Cherise on. She lay on her back, staring at her own image in the looking glass above the bed. Her ploy to seduce him gave way to an easier path to satisfaction. For her, it was only about her own needs anyway. She touched herself with practiced ease, with a look of intoxicated pleasure that he judged was evidence of the drug taking full effect.
He pressed on. “Did Longmere tell you how he found this miraculous muse?”
“He said it was a gift. From a mysterious stranger.” Cherise was breathing heavily, transfixed by her own image. “A masked Chinese man who’d stopped him in the street one night and gave him a sample. Not ordinary opium, mind. This was a taste of the true secrets of the Orient, mystical and rare, available only to the select few who dared to take it.”
And those who could afford it, Ben thought wryly. Fong certainly knew how to set the stage for his product. He understood his audience: jaded aristocrats had a fascination with anything exotic and scarce and would pay a premium for it.
“What else did Longmere say about this man?” Ben asked.
Cherise moaned, her hand working furiously between her legs.
“Concentrate,” Ben said impatiently. “How did Longmere get the Devil’s Bliss?”
“It was part of the excitement, the thrill.” Her eyes squeezed shut as she chased her finish. “The Devil could send more of his treasure at any time.”
“Where did Longmere receive shipments?”
She shrieked as she found her release. A few moments later, her head lolled in Ben’s direction. She was glassy-eyed, her expression vacuous, the muscles of her face slack from her climax and the drug. A good thing, because he’d prefer that she didn’t remember their conversation.
He tried again. “How often did Longmere supply you with the drug?”
“Bastard wouldn’t give me more.” Her voice was slurred. “Fought with him the last time I saw him. I begged, offered more money, but the ungrateful wretch refused. Even after all I’d done for him, putting in a good word with friends at the Royal Academy, getting his bloody painting accepted into the exhibition…”
“Did Longmere say why he wouldn’t sell you more of the drug?”
“Said it was too dangerous. Said that the Devil had floated in on a Siren’s song, luring him to an inescapable death, but I could still break free…”
Her eyelids drooped, and she began to snore.
Livy eased back from the peephole. She felt shaky and feverish. She hated that Ben was in the same room as Cherise Foxton as the latter pleasured herself; at the same time, Livy could tell that his only goal was to get information. Even though she could only hear snippets of the conversation, Ben’s disinterest in Cherise’s performance was obvious. And Livy now knew that Cherise had been the woman arguing with Longmere and the cause of the disagreement.
Nonetheless, she felt a prick of satisfaction when Cherise began to snore. Loudly.
I hope she drools too, Livy thought darkly.
“How was your show?” a male voice asked.
Livy had been so absorbed with Ben that she’d forgotten the stranger who’d led her into this hidden passageway behind the rooms. He’d kept his distance, standing a few feet away and peering through a squint into another room, where the occupants were clearly still at it, their moans and groans leaking into the passageway.
The stranger had seemed harmless enough, but now the wall sconces revealed a menacing glint in his eyes. Before Livy could move, he backed her against the wall, his hands pinning her shoulders.
“Get off me,” she hissed.
He smirked. “Didn’t I tell you this is the price of admission?”
He ground himself against her. She felt his member poking against her… Ew.
“I said no.” She shoved at his shoulders. “Get away from me.”
“Not until I get what I want.”
Enough was enough. Livy jerked her knee upward. Her attacker doubled over, emitting a howl of pain.
“You bitch,” he groaned.
She stomped on his foot for good measure. “Remember this the next time a lady says no.”
His curses followed her as she exited the passageway. She saw doors open along the corridor, Ben emerging from one of them.
Zounds. She kept her face averted, walking away from him, panic buzzing through her. Did he hear me in the passageway? See me just now?
She didn’t dare look back. She moved as quickly as she could without drawing attention, pushing through the crowded seraglio toward the stairs. Her nape tingled; dash it, she could feel Ben giving chase. As soon as she made it to the stairwell and out of his sight, she broke into a run, racing down the steps. She made it to the first floor—and a hand closed around her arm.
Her heart shot into her throat, but it was Charlie. Thank God.
“This way,” her mentor said.
Charlie led her to an open panel in the wall: a servant’s passage. The two hastened into the tunnel, closing the door behind them. Charlie spoke as they raced along.
“This will take you to the exit at the back. Hawker’s waiting one block east. Once you get back to the house, dispose of your disguise and go to bed. At once.”
“Why the rush?”
“Because Hadleigh saw you and will no doubt pay you a visit.”
Livy didn’t know if her shiver was one of fear or anticipation. “What should I do?”
“Keep the truth from him however you can.” Charlie shoved open a door, pushing Livy out into the foggy night. In the holes of her mask, Charlie’s grey eyes shone with urgency. “I’ve picked up critical information tonight, and
