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Chapter Eight ▏The Price
Did I hear that correctly?
"What?" I ask rather shakily. "What did you say?"
The man shrugs and fiddles with a bundle of cloth below the stool where the gas lamp is. "Well, you heard what I said. Take off your clothes."
My entire body freezes. I don't know what to do, but I do know what it means, from all the romance books that I used to "borrow" from Madame Mara. I think it's highly possible that this absolute stranger wants to do something with me that doesn't involve any kind of clothing, the sacred thing that I want to do with my husband and my husband alone. Not Governor Celso, but with someone I share love with.
I can't do this with someone I don't know. I certainly won't do it with someone who I'm sure is a criminal.
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