Release: Davlova: Book One by A.M. Sexton

me what to do. Even on the night when he treated me like a lover instead of his whore, he didn’t talk when we were done. He nuzzled my neck and held me close. He let me sleep for a while in his arms before shaking me awake and sending me home. But nothing more.
    I began to feel ridiculous. I never bothered to meet with Anzhéla because I had nothing to report. The man was too careful. Too reserved. The few times I tried to make conversation, I was told either by words or by a hand across my face that I’d overstepped my bounds. I tried once to speak to the driver, but he ignored me completely, as if he couldn’t hear my words at all. I never saw anybody but the butler in Donato’s house. He hadn’t spoken to me since that night when I’d tried to ask questions and he’d warned me to stop. I’d tried to ask him questions one other time, and, like the driver, he’d completely ignored me. I hadn’t dared try a third time, for fear he’d report me to Donato. And yet, what was the point of being the man’s whore if I couldn’t give Anzhéla information?
    The next time I was taken to Donato’s, the butler met me at the door as always, but when he turned to lead me upstairs, I waved him off. “I know the way.”
    He looked troubled—torn between doing his duty and accepting a chance to be lazy.
    “Don’t worry,” I assured him, and headed for the stairs before he could change his mind.
    I went up them to the third floor, where the bedroom was. Not Donato’s actual bedroom, I’d come to realize, but the room reserved specifically for his nights with me. I took my time though, stopping to look more carefully at the paintings. There were no names, but each was signed, and I made mental note of the marks in the corner of each. I hoped some of the other doors along the hall would be open, allowing me a glimpse of the rest of the household, but it wasn’t to be. I found nothing. No errant scrap of paper left on a sideboard. The only sound was the ever-present music coming from someplace downstairs, but the rooms I crept past were absolutely silent. No hushed conversation seeped to me in the hallway.
    I sighed in dismay. Did I dare open one of the doors to those rooms?
    No. I knew what Anzhéla would say to me. The same thing she always said. Don’t rush. Bide your time. Gain his trust.
    She was probably right. Besides, I had no idea when he’d come to me. Sometimes he showed up immediately. Sometimes I waited several hours. It would never do to have him find me still in the hallway.
    Once in the room, I took an ildenaaf and lay back on the bed to wait. Tonight, they had dressed me simply in soft suede pants, leather boots, and a plain white shirt. Not even silk this time. I had a jacket that was long and tailored, but not ornate. My hair was tied back, and I wore no kohl around my eyes. I almost looked like myself, if myself had ever had clean clothes that actually fit.
    I couldn’t help but wonder what Donato planned for this visit. Would I be beaten and humiliated, or treated like a prince?
    As always, I stood when he came into the room. Immediately, I could tell it wouldn’t be unpleasant. He smiled warmly at me, as if I were a friend. He stepped up to take my hands in his.
    “Even dressed like a commoner, you’re stunning.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    He put one hand behind my waist and pulled me closer to him. He played his lips over my jaw. I sensed that he wanted me to act like a lover this time, rather than a submissive whore, so I put my arms around his neck and tilted my head back to grant him easier access. I shivered in earnest as my erection pushed against his thigh.
    He squeezed my buttock and growled softly into my ear, “You please me, little whore. I think I’m growing fond of you.”
    “I hope so,” I said. I allowed my groin to push harder against him. “It pleases me to please you.”
    He chuckled against my neck. “You’re so good at anticipating my needs. What if I told you that I