Richer Than God

by Amelia Wilde

  Amusement.

  For him.

  For this man, who is unlike any other man I’ve seen or kissed. Not that I’ve kissed another man. Not more than a fumbling bruise after gym class at school. My lips still burn with the complete mortification of trying to kiss a god and being utterly rejected. In a meeting room. Less than a meeting room. This is some in-between space, where people come and pause and are shuttled off again to wherever he sends them. The carpet under my bare feet is soft but not welcoming. The blue of the walls is deep enough to shut me in. I could fall asleep here, if I closed my eyes. Better than under a bridge, the insidious voice in my head offers. Better than a ditch. Better than your own uncle touching you….

  But is it better?

  Both things make me want to throw up, except I know I would actually be sick if my uncle touched me. If I had to stand in front of him and vow to belong to him in sickness and health. Zeus already touched me, kissed me, and it took my breath away, but I was not sick. I was shamefully, horribly all right. Unharmed, except for the twist in my stomach and the heat between my legs that shouldn’t be there.

  You don’t pass inspection.

  Why does he have to be cruel? If I weren’t in the middle of my own life’s escape plan, I’d cry.

  He’s too big for the room, too handsome, and I’m a wilting flower standing in my underwear, while he’s a work of art in a suit that looks like it cost more than my house—the house I used to have, anyway. I can never go back there.

  Plan—make a plan.

  First step, I need my clothes back, only they’re in a different room. We had to walk down the hall to get here, and Zeus, in his clothes that were carved onto him by a master sculptor, is between me and the door.

  I doubt he’s slow on his feet. For how tall he is, I know he wouldn’t lumber after me like a weak old man. He would catch me easily in those big hands. Unless I go straight for the street as fast as I can. I might still have the element of surprise on my side.

  Running into the street in my panties and bra might be the better option. Breathing the same air as him is the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done, and my body knows it. Even my calves are tensed and waiting, nipples peaked, breath short and choppy.

  Hide it.

  This was the plan. This was the decision, and now I’m in here with no clothes and no good options. My father will find me if I try to hide under a bridge. It won’t take long. My uncle has power in the city, and he could convince any number of other people to join the search. Beloved niece, he would say. He would not say the rest out loud. The people who came looking would think they were doing me a favor. I might make it a few days, but then a flashlight would sweep into my hiding place, a voice calling my name.

  It’s just…

  The fact of him.

  The size of him.

  The muscle of him.

  Strong shoulders, a nipped-in waist, every inch of him solid beneath his suit. The fabric wraps around him so intimately that it’s almost obscene in its perfection. His clothes were made for him. This place was made for him.

  Everything about him is overpowering, and he’s not even doing anything; he’s just standing there, watching me, lighting me on fire with strangely golden eyes. Even his hair is perfect, a bronze that’s been kissed by the sun. Like this man spends all his waking hours on a beach. He could light up a room. This is how I die, probably. He melts me from the inside out until I’m nothing, and this stolen bra and panty set will be worthless.

  Get your shit together.

  I force my breathing into some semblance of a normal pattern and lift my chin. I saw a video on power poses once. This is not a power pose, but it’s not a cowering one either. It’s the best I can do.

  Say something.

  “I didn’t come here for your amusement.”

  He arches an eyebrow, and I die all over again. “Of course you did.”

  “No. I heard the girls here—the women—I heard you were allowed to refuse a man. That’s what people say. That they’re allowed to say no.”

  “Is that what people say?” he says, but it’s not really a question.

  Despair makes me honest. “I thought it was like dating.”

  “Dating?” A deadly smile spreads across his face, and it’s as breathtaking as moonlight on the ocean. I can feel the waves under my palm, the depth of the water, the insistent pull, down, down, down. “You thought you would hold court here while men tried to impress you?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, because that is what I thought.

  I imagined it would be awful, humiliating, demeaning, but a sugar daddy experience nonetheless, where the men who visit places like this would have to vie for my body.

  I thought I would maintain a modicum of control.

  More control than I would have with my uncle, chained to him for life. More even than the mountain, signing a contract with his brother. People say there’s work to be done in his diamond mines. They say pretty young things go into those mines and never come out. It was supposed to be safer here. I was stupid to believe that.

  How could I have thought I’d be safe?

  My body relaxes around the realization, parts of me going numb and then lighting up again. On, off. On, off. The air in the room curls over my skin, moving as if another door in another place has opened and shut. One year, I went to camp, and we learned about what to do if we encountered a grizzly bear in the woods. The most important thing was to stay calm. If you lost your mind, the bear would chase you, and it would eat you. Zeus could kill a grizzly bear. Five of them. He’s that tall, that imposing. I don’t even think he would unbutton his jacket. For all the light in his eyes, there’s darkness there too. Shadows. Secrets.

  I don’t want to know what made him this way. I don’t know how I’d do this if I knew.

  “But,” I start again, because going silent and still isn’t the end of this. I can’t stand here in this room forever, and the truth of the situation is too horrifying to keep inside my mouth. “I guess that’s only for women who pass inspection. Not me.” His eyes burn mine. They’re superheated sand, and mine are grass, and his win every time. “That’s not fair.”

  He laughs, and the sound rolls through me, thunder and lightning and velvet. Rich and dark and cutting. What he’s going to do to me—I can’t fathom it.

  And no matter how much I fantasize about it, I can’t run away.

  “That’s your first lesson, sweetheart. Olympus isn’t fair. Reya, come here.”

  Olympus. I’ve never heard anyone call it that, not out loud, and if I had, I would have laughed. I’m not laughing now. The name of this brothel might be a joke to Zeus, but nothing that goes on here is a joke. I press my thighs together, my knees aching. I send a quick prayer to no one in particular that he won’t notice.

  She must have been waiting just outside the door, because she’s there instantly, and this is my third death in as many minutes. She heard. She heard everything. She must have. I’m lightheaded, waiting for the room to fold in on me and crush me. In the light, she’s even more beautiful. A dark-blue gown that skims the floor. Dark hair, shining and perfect. I’ve never once been able to get my hair to look like that. And her lips….

  Why would he want to kiss me, when he could kiss someone like her? Someone who would obviously pass inspection. I’m sure she has her own room. Her own floor maybe. A pinprick of jealousy burrows itself into my heart. Am I jealous of her status or the fact that she’s standing so close to him, hardly flinching away, fully clothed? I’m a wreck.

  “House this one with the maids,” Zeus says, and Reya glances at me with an impassive expression. How many girls like me has she seen? How many of them came here thinking this was a good place, and if not good, at least not hell? “She hasn’t earned a room of her own yet.”

  Humiliation bursts over me again, and goddamn it, I have been trying. I stood there without crying, even though I wanted to, and I didn’t flinch when he— “But the other women earned theirs? They j
ust stood there. I kissed you.”

  Zeus steps closer, watching, watching, and an alarm shrieks in the back of my mind, a screeching sound, a plea. Get out, get out. He’s not a man; he’s a predator, and I made a mistake.

  I keep making mistakes.

  I should know better than to confuse nice clothes and a shining castle with goodness. It’s not fair, and a sob winds itself around my heart and dies there too.

  His teeth should not be so white.

  His jaw should not be so square.

  He shouldn’t be so beautiful while he rips my dignity to shreds with only a glance.

  I shouldn’t be this turned on, this on edge, from being embarrassed like this. I shouldn’t be thinking about his lips on mine. I should not be wet between my legs.

  It’s awful.

  And I do not want to go wherever the gorgeous Reya is going to take me. I’m torn in two. The sensible part of me—the one that got the hell out of my house before my father trapped me—says I should follow her, now. That I should insist on leaving before I take another breath of this man’s air. I’m sure he’s counting them.

  I’m sure he’ll know exactly how much I owe him. And the other part of me wants to stay. To follow him around like a lost puppy. If I stay close enough, then… then….

  What am I thinking? Stay far. I need to stay as far as I can. But that’s not what’s going to happen. Amusement. That’s what’s going to happen. His amusement.

  He watches for a moment longer, sunshot eyes glowing with a thousand wicked ideas, a million. Wicked ideas that make my blood run hot and then cold. “Those women just stood there, yes. Those other women passed inspection, yes. Those women weren’t you.”

  5

  Brigit

  He doesn’t let me stay.

  Those women weren’t you.

  Zeus delivers this line and turns easily on his heel, hands in his pockets, like he crushes people all day with a smile on his face. Golden. He’s golden, head to toe. He pauses only to lean down and tell Reya something. She’s got her notepad and pen and dutifully writes down what he says, but I can’t hear it. His voice is too low, and the rush of blood in my ears is too loud.

  I can’t take my eyes off him. You don’t look away from danger, especially if your own body is conspiring against you. Use what senses you do have. I pin my eyes to the back of his jacket and watch as he fills the doorframe and disappears.

  Numb fingertips, numb lips. It was hot before, scorching, and now the room feels like a cloud has gone over the sun. A shiver tiptoes up the length of my spine.

  “—you okay?”

  Reya comes back into focus with a blink. “What?” She comes and takes my arm, and I think she means to be comforting, but it reminds me of a jailer leading me to my cell.

  She rubs one thumb in a slow circle on my upper arm. “Are you okay?” she repeats.

  No. “I’m fine. I’m… good.” I’m only standing here in panties and bra and skin that’s raw from being in his presence. Great. I’m doing great. “Where do the maids sleep?”

  I can feel her studying me. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

  There’s no other choice, so I follow her out of the strange, liminal room and down the hall. We pass the back entrance—it’s next to a loading dock—and I keep my eyes straight ahead.

  No point in asking if we’re going back for my clothes. If he wanted me to have them, then I’d have them already. Reya doesn’t slow her pace either. So I was right about that.

  Everything from before is gone.

  That strips me of a certain weight—maybe if there’s nothing left from where I came from, then they won’t be able to find me. It’s a sick relief. This place is not better.

  I can’t let myself fall into the trap of imagining it is.

  We go up, climbing a huge staircase that must be along the corner of the building somewhere. Music comes through the doorway on the first landing. It sounds like dinner music from a fancy restaurant—a nice place. The kind of place my father wouldn’t take me to. Too much money, he’d say. I don’t have to think about him now.

  I might not have to think about him ever again.

  Up another floor, and Reya opens a door.

  I gasp, and it’s possibly the most ridiculous sound I’ve ever made. My face gets hotter. Soon, I will have no flesh left, only a skull.

  And she looks at me with concern in her eyes. “Everything all right?”

  “Yes, it…” I thought it would be red. “It’s nice up here.”

  It’s more than nice. She leads me down a hallway that’s thickly carpeted in a blue shade that reminds me of the deep part of the ocean, where the light stops reaching and everything settles into its own comfortable darkness. The sound of our footsteps is swallowed by it.

  And through open doors, there are the loveliest rooms I’ve ever seen.

  Rooms—they could be suites.

  It’s all I can do not to stop and lean into one, breathing in the clean scent of everything. It all smells brand-new, with a tinge of fresh paint and the flower arrangements that perch at intervals down the hall. I settle for glimpses. A huge bed here, a flash of silk sheets there.

  Reya leans into one of the rooms to speak to someone I can’t see. What I can see is the bathroom—enormous. A glassed-in shower takes up most of the visible space. You could fit six people in there. Why would you need a shower big enough to fit six people? And then the images appear, one by one, of exactly what you could do with six people in a shower. I’d turn away, but I can’t. It’s too gleaming and attractive and marble tile. Clean. Things here are clean, which doesn’t add up in my brain—I’ve come here to do a filthy thing.

  “Not tonight?” Reya’s talking to the hidden girl, the one in the room, some private conversation I barely understand. “I wouldn’t wait if I were you.”

  Hope, with a chaser of fear. She sounds empathetic enough, but there’s steel in her voice that I missed earlier. I was too concerned with throwing myself into the lion’s den.

  “Shouldn’t we go, before someone sees me like this?”

  Reya turns around and finds me edging in close. “Like what?”

  “In my underwear.”

  She smiles, not unkindly. “What does it matter?”

  We keep going down the hall.

  What matters is, I’m not cut out for opulence like this. Every step reminds me of it, with the scrape of cheap lace on my skin. We pass by more enormous rooms. More flowers. A shock of red as someone passes by an open door, a spray of perfume in the air.

  Expensive.

  He’s going to make me into someone this expensive. And in order to become this….

  I swallow hard and wrench my eyes away from the doorways. At the end of the hall, we turn a corner and come to another doorway. Two more flights of stairs, and then we come out into the attic.

  The ceilings are lower here, and instead of lush carpet, the pads of my feet meet hardwood. Plain walls are the only decoration for the narrow hall. Reya stops three doors down and opens an equally white door set into the wall.

  My new room.

  It’s a shared room with sloped ceilings and twin beds with sheets the same color as the walls.

  “This is you.” She glances back down at her notes, and I wish powerfully that I’d been paying attention to what Zeus said instead of staring at his cruel lips. “You’re to rise with the staff and eat breakfast in the kitchens. Those are on the terrace level.”

  So I’ll have to make my way from the attic to the basement in the morning. What’s going to be between me and whatever food they’ll give me? Zeus, for one thing. Fear seizes my lungs but doesn’t hold on long. It’s late and getting later, and the rush of running away is fading. One look at a bed and I’m longing to collapse into it and pull the sheets tight around my chin. Reya steps away to a closet set into the end of the hall. There’s room for one slim window. I can still see a slice of the sky. She opens the closet and pulls out a thin blanket, a pillow, and a maid’
s uniform—a simple black dress, the sleeves folded back into cuffs. I put out my hands to take them, knowing I should fight this, but…

  I can’t.

  All of it feels strangely heavy in my hands. This small room is very different than the opulence of the others. “Is this what usually happens with the girls who don’t pass inspection?”

  Reya laughs, the sound short and disbelieving. “That’s never happened before. Not like that. He either passes them through or assigns them some other job. He’s sent two or three straight back out—no, two.” She cocks her head to the side, seeming to consider her next words carefully. “And he never kisses them.”

  A whole-body blush, which has to be nakedly visible. And more horrible, mortifying heat between my legs. The panties aren’t up for this. I clutch the pillow closer to my chest, grateful for anything to hold right now. “How do you know?”

  “I’ve been working for him for a long time.”

  Why did he kiss me? And more importantly, why didn’t he like it? I keep my mouth shut and hope. Sometimes, if you’re quiet long enough, people will keep talking. My heart pounds to recognize the door that Reya’s just opened.

  If I’m going to survive being trained by Zeus—a thought that makes my knees feel like taffy—then I need to know more about him. Immediately.

  My bet pays off.

  Reya takes a deep breath. “I came here like you did.” Her eyes focus on a point behind me, and I don’t dare look away, even while memories flash through her eyes. Her gaze catches mine again, a dark mischief there—but something else too. “I came here like you did. I was so scared I almost cried in that room. Blinking back tears….” She shakes her head. “I was a mess. He made me his secretary that night.”

  His secretary looks like this? “Then you don’t have to—”

  “I’m his secretary,” she says firmly. “Anything I do is my choice, and I’m grateful for that.”

  I hear the meaning behind the words as clearly as if she’d spoken them out loud. She might understand the situation I’m in. She might have some sympathy for me. But she will always, always, side with Zeus. He’s earned her loyalty.