video. Security was a big deal. Residents paid through the nose for it. But it sure made working here feel like you were living under a microscope.
After shrugging off my coat, I hung it from a light fixture three feet away, far enough the resident shouldn’t notice, and let my knuckles do the talking.
The door swung open to reveal a man who loomed over me. Granted, that wasn’t too hard to do considering I barely cleared five feet without my neck-breaker heels, but he was easily a foot taller than me. He was lean, but not thin. Muscular, but not bulky with it. And gorgeous—natch.
His amber eyes sparkled like sunlight on the water, and his mahogany hair was threaded with black strands that hung almost to his hips. The spiraled horns, ebony and gleaming, that curved over his skull screamed his inhumanity, but mortals didn’t come this pretty anyway. His lips were narrow, or maybe that was just his scowl thinning them.
This guy must be fae. They did haughty better than anyone, and he was in danger of drowning if it rained. He held his nose so high in the air, I should have seen straight into his brain, even without the height difference.
“I don’t pay for sex, and I don’t require it purchased for me either.” He tightened his hand on the knob. “Tell Augustin his idea of a joke doesn’t amuse me,” he said, and then he slammed the door in my face.
For a stunned moment, I stood there, tempted to take the out I had been given, but all too aware of the electronic eyes watching from the ceiling. Even without security monitoring me, when help didn’t come, Penthouse would call Sven, and then Sven would call me. Then I would have to explain to him, based on the curl of Penthouse’s upper-crust lip and the fact he tossed me out on my can, that he must have thought I was a hookergram.
Gritting my teeth, smile long gone, I banged the side of my fist beneath the ego-boosting numero uno. This time, when Penthouse gave me an opening, I wedged my foot in the crack before he hit me with whatever insult was pursing his ripe berry lips.
“Hi.” I planted my palm on the doorframe. “I don’t know who Augustin is, and believe me, I’m aware I look like a joke—I do check myself in the mirror before I leave for work each day—but my life isn’t amusing or lived for your amusement.” Lifting my plunger, I waved it like a magic wand. Or, okay, like a baseball bat. “I’m here to unclog your toilet.”
Frown crinkling his wide forehead, he swept his gaze down my scantily clad body then up again before settling on my face. “You?”
“Me.” I braced the wooden handle on my shoulder. “Unless your toilet magically unclogged itself?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.” I never got that lucky. “Can I come in, or…?”
“Yes.” He tucked a sleek lock of hair behind an ear with a delicate point then stepped aside to let me enter. “Forgive my earlier rudeness. I didn’t realize—”
“—management would send a French maid to do a plumber’s job?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why they pay me the big bucks.” The guy clearly had no idea what was going on in his suite if my appearance had stumped him. Maybe, since he was Mr. Penthouse, the Marshal paid for my services instead of him personally. The fact they had retained me and not one of the other girls was more telling than his horns or his ears. I got the clients no one else could survive. “The master toilet?”
“Yes.” He gestured through a set of double doors I had never seen thrown open. “It’s right through—”
“Oh, I know.” I tossed him a flirty smile I got paid for by the hour. “I’m your usual girl.”
“My girl,” he said softly, his nostrils flaring. “Your scent.” He leaned down, shocking me into stillness, but all he did was skate his nose up the column of my throat in a shiver-inducing glide. “I recognize it.”
“You should.” I planted my palm on his chest and shoved him out of my personal space, surprising him with my strength. First-rate customer service, right here. “I come once a week.”
Amber eyes aglow, he trailed me into his room, his presence tingling along my spine in a primal warning I had no choice but to ignore. “Only once?”
Unexpected heat leapt into my checks, and I was grateful he couldn’t see them burning. I was not