Hurt burned through her. Was it possible she’d misread him? That he didn’t want her at all? The humiliation was a lot worse than she’d imagined it would be. Yeah, a lot worse. She just felt small all of a sudden. The awkward girl she’d always been.
But of course, she had nothing material to offer Ferro outside of the agreement they already had. So why would he even humor her?
“I’m sorry you find me so distasteful,” she said crisply. And the hurt, anger, pent up from the past ten years of her life, and from her ridiculous encounter, earlier, with David Whatshisname and Ferro’s rejection, built up and boiled over, words spilling out hot and reckless. “Should I have offered you money? Is that an exchange you understand?”
He pushed off from the balcony and turned to face her, his expression anything but blank now, dark eyes blazing with fire. “Careful, cara mia.”
“Forgive me, if I don’t find it a little insulting that you, Ferro Calvaresi, who everyone knows seduced rich older women for their money and status, finds sleeping with me to be distasteful.”
He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulled her back up against him. For the first time, she saw him without any civility. The mask dropped completely. There was no more charm. No more easy smile. No more laughing, mocking playboy. This was the man from the street. The man who had put aside every ounce of morality in order to survive.
He said nothing, he only looked at her. Then he extended his hand and touched her cheekbone, traced a line down to her chin, his eyes never leaving hers. “So you want to talk about my past, do you? You think you understand it because you read a book? Did the details excite you? Stories of my exploits with past lovers? Did you like the part where they said I took a married woman back into the coatroom and had her against a wall while her husband was in the ballroom searching for her? That was my favorite.”
She shook her head, the sense she’d gone too far making her freeze inside. “Ferro…I don’t…”
“But you don’t know the details of it. That makes for a hell of a salacious story. A young stud that women find irresistible. A rogue with no conscience who got gifts based on sexual skill. But that’s sanitized, Julia. The clean version.”
“It can’t be…”
“Yes. It can be. I assume you know what a whore is.”
She blinked, her chest suddenly tight. “Yes.”
“I was hardly the cheerful seducer of lonely women I’m made out to be. I was paid to be there. In their beds. In the coat closet. I was a whore, Julia. Paid for sex. I sold my body to the highest bidder and I did whatever was asked of me, whether I wanted to or not.”
“I can’t… You couldn’t have been. That’s not…”
“You think I’m exaggerating, don’t you?” he asked. “I’m not. I was taken from the streets at sixteen by a woman named Claudia. She was wealthy, older. Looking for a little bit of fun. It had been four days since I’d eaten. I was looking for work but I could hardly stand. The first thing she did was buy me a meal. And after that…how could I say no to whatever she asked? I was starving for food, for touch, for a bed that wasn’t dirt, so I went and I took her money gladly. But I was her pet, Julia. I learned to obey her every command, to be her fantasy lover. But that was never all she had in mind. She wanted to make money off me, too. And she had contacts, other women, women she knew would be willing to pay to have a young man in their bed who did everything they demanded. She taught me English. She taught me to dance. She taught me about art and culture and everything I would need to know to be a pleasing companion. Trained. Like an animal.”
Julia swallowed, her stomach tight, sick.
“You want me to stop, don’t you?” he asked.
She nodded. She did. She didn’t want to know. Because until a moment ago he’d been a fantasy. And now it was far too real. Just hearing about it made her feel like she was covered in dirt. How must he feel?
“It’s too bad, you baited me, now deal with the consequences. You want to talk about my past then you need to know what it really was. I took money for sex. I did whatever my lovers asked me to do and I did it well. I also listened when they talked. The wives of rich men know a lot about money. About investments. I figured out how to make the money I earned grow. It’s hard to leave a lifestyle like that. Where you make hundreds of dollars for an hour’s…work. But eventually it became clear to me that the cost was too high, and I don’t exchange myself anymore. I am not for sale. I am not your pet you can make demands of. I am a man, and I have demands of my own.”