It wasn’t my stunning odd attractiveness or my personality. The Baron kept me and Grady sheltered, fed, and well taken care of because of my abilities and how useful they could be to him, and I was terrified that the moment I no longer served a purpose was the moment Grady and I would be back on the streets, barely scraping by and living on the edge of death.
Which wasn’t living at all.
“It’s fine,” I assured him, taking a very small sip of the wine as I turned my attention back to those below the dais. The gold-adorned Great Chamber was full of the aristo— the wealthy shippers and shop owners, the bankers and landowners. No one was masked. It wasn’t that kind of party. Yet. I searched for Naomi among those below, having lost sight of her earlier.
“Pet?” Claude called softly.
I faced him once more. He bent at the waist, extending his hand. Behind us, his personal guards kept their eyes on the crowd. All except Grady. I caught a quick glimpse of the brown skin of his jaw tightening. Grady wasn’t exactly a fan of the Baron and this arrangement. My gaze returned to the Baron.
Claude smiled.
Bracing a hand on the velvet pillow I sat on, I leaned closer and placed my chin in his hand. His fingers were cool like always. So were his lips as he lowered his head and kissed me. I felt only a little flutter in my stomach. I used to feel more, back when I thought his attentiveness was born of want of me.
Which was why Grady didn’t like this arrangement.
If Claude showered me with attention because he wanted me for, well, me, Grady wouldn’t care at all. He just thought I deserved more. Better. And it wasn’t like I didn’t think I did too, but more and better were hard to come by for anyone these days. Having a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and safety and security always trumped better and more.
His mouth lifted from mine. “You worry me.”
“Why?”
He dragged a thumb just below my lower lip, careful to not smear the red paint. “You’re quiet.”
How could I not be when I sat upon the dais with no one but him and Hymel within speaking distance? Claude had been chatting with everyone under the sun this evening, and I’d rather cut my own tongue out than speak to Hymel. Seriously. I’d cut my tongue out and throw it at him first. “I think I’m just tired.”
“What has you so tired?” he asked, tone ringing with just that right amount of concern.
“I didn’t sleep well.” A nightmare of the past had woken me last night, one that had been a haunting walk down memory lane. I’d dreamt that we’d been back on the streets, and Grady had been sick with that body-rattling cough. The one I could still clearly hear all these years later. I had that nightmare a lot, but last night . . . it had been too real.
Which was why I’d spent most of the day tending to the flower garden I’d made for myself. I’d barely had time to grab something to eat between that and preparing for my presence in the Great Chamber, but in that little garden, I didn’t think about the very real past, the nightmares, or the fear that all of this could end at any moment.
One dark brow rose in response. “Is that truly all that it is?”
I nodded.
He slid his hand to my hair, fixing one of the strings of diamonds. “I was beginning to fear that you were jealous.”
I stared at him, confused.
“I know I’ve been paying a lot of attention to the others of late,” he said, fixing another string as he glanced out to the crowd, likely at the fair-haired Allyson. “I was worried you were beginning to feel unappreciated.”
My brows inched up my forehead. “Seriously?”
He frowned. “Yes.”
I continued to stare at him, slow to realize he was being truthful. A laugh bubbled up, but I squelched it. I couldn’t even remember the last time Claude had done more than give me a quick kiss or pat on the rear, and I was completely okay with that.
Mostly.
While I felt little real attraction toward him these days, I did enjoy being touched. Desired. Wanted. I enjoyed touching, even if it was for only a few minutes. And even though Claude had no boundaries set upon his paramours, things were a bit more complicated for me. I was more like an advisor . . . or a spy he sometimes showed attention to.
“I’ve been told you haven’t been sleeping in anyone else’s quarters,” he added.
Irritation flashed through me. I didn’t appreciate the idea of him having anyone keep an eye on me, but it was also a rather irrelevant observation.
Claude knew exactly how difficult it was for me to be intimate with others. How uncomfortable it made me if they were unaware of, well, the risks of me touching them without dulling my senses with what felt like my body weight in liquor. And not being able to remember having sex or hoping that it was enjoyable was as disquieting as seeing or hearings things I shouldn’t. Maybe even more so.