Page 8 of A Mistake of Identity
“Yes, Jacob,” Gabriel replied, then turned to Ellis with a slight gesture toward the butler. “Ellis, allow me to introduce Jacob Fourier, who has managed this household for longer than I’ve been alive. Jacob, this is Ellis Anouilh.”
Ellis bobbed his head in greeting.
“Welcome, Master Ellis,” Jacob responded, bowing slightly at the hip.
“Have fun with that one, Gabriel,” Lucas called as he and Alain crossed the foyer and continued deeper into the house. Ellis could hear the pair snicker before exchanging quiet words in French he couldn’t quite catch.
He was still trying to wrap his head around the overwhelming luxury when his foot hit the first step, Gabriel’s hand guiding him up that sweeping staircase. Ellis’ hearthammered in his chest, a sensation so foreign it took him a moment to recognize it as nervousness.
Ellis hadn’t felt genuine anxiety about sex since he was fifteen, trembling in his first client’s car. Nearly ten years of selling his body had stripped away those kinds of feelings. Or so he’d thought. But here he was, pulse racing as he climbed toward Gabriel’s “apartment,” feeling as raw and unprepared as the teenage runaway he’d been.
Gabriel guided him down another hallway, all dark wood and more of those rich burgundy walls, before turning them into a room behind heavy double doors. As Gabriel clicked the lock behind them, Ellis took in the enormous bedroom. The king-sized bed dominated the space, but the floor-to-ceiling windows caught his breath, framed by thick burgundy drapes that had to cost a fortune. Through the glass, Lafayette Park stretched dark and empty, like a private show just for this room.
Ellis’ shoes sank into the plush cream carpet, which felt like walking on clouds. Two doors led off the main rooms, one showing glimpses of a marble vanity that had to be part of a bathroom and the other opening into what looked like a walk-in closet.
“This is incredible.” Ellis breathed, taking in the room.
Gabriel hummed, seating himself in a velvet chair Ellis hadn’t noticed.
“Strip.” The simple command startled Ellis, pulling him back from wherever his mind had wandered off to.
Right. He was here for sex. Gabriel had paid him to be naked, so he should be naked.
Ellis quickly shucked his shoes and pulled off his socks, placing them aside neatly. A lifetime of careful habits, impossible to break—knowing exactly where your clothes were could mean the difference between walking out or running out naked. He pulled off his shirt and caught Gabriel’s eye, the man’sgaze already roaming his exposed skin. The intensity there made something flutter in his stomach. He carefully folded his shirt and placed it on his shoes, each item within easy reach.
His fingers fumbled with the button on his jeans, unusually clumsy under that steady watch. As he slid them down his thighs, Gabriel’s sharp intake of breath made him freeze.
“Stop.” Gabriel’s voice had dropped an octave. “Leave those on.”
Ellis stood still as Gabriel rose from his chair, prowling closer. Large hands slid over the cheap lace that barely covered him, groping and possessive. The material scratched against his skin as Gabriel’s fingers traced the edges where lace met flesh.
“Such poor quality,” Gabriel murmured, thumbs stroking over Ellis’ hipbones. “These won’t do at all. I’ll have to get you something more suitable. Something in silk, perhaps. Or the finest French lace.” His grip tightened. “Would you like that, little bird? To be dressed in things worthy of you?”
Ellis fought to keep his expression neutral even as his skin heated under Gabriel’s touch. He’d requested lingerie in the dossier, after all. This must be part of the fantasy he’d paid for. Ellis knew his role, to be enthusiastic, to play along.
“Yes, sir,” he breathed, arching slightly into those possessive touches. He’d worn cheap lace for countless clients with similar tastes. The only difference was that Gabriel could probably afford the real thing, not that he’d waste it on a Fourth Cat whore.
But for now, he let himself sink into the role, pretending he believed in promises no client ever kept.
Standing in nothing but the delicate lace, Ellis held still as Gabriel’s gaze raked over him. Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes under that intense scrutiny. Ellis knew he looked good. That had never been in question. He’d worn lingerie for countless clients, but something about Gabriel’s unwaveringattention made his skin prickle with awareness. Those dark eyes traced every inch of him like they were memorizing him, claiming him, and Ellis felt his body responding in a way it rarely did with clients.
His cock began to strain against the lace, and Ellis fought the unfamiliar urge to adjust himself. When he moved to do so, Gabriel’s voice cut through the silence. “No.” The command in his tone sent a shiver down Ellis’ spine. “Turn around. Slowly. I want to see all of you.”
Ellis’s face burned as he obeyed, turning in a slow circle. The humiliation of being displayed like this, his arousal evident through the thin fabric, confused him. This was just another client, another transaction—so why did Gabriel’s possessive gaze make him feel so exposed? His skin flushed deeper as he completed the turn, his cock now painfully constrained by the tight lace.
This wasn’t like the quick once-overs from Johns at Heart Court, sizing him up like merchandise. Deciding whether to stick their cock in him or one of the other escorts.
Gabriel looked at him like he was something to be consumed, owned completely. Ellis’s breath caught in his throat at the hunger in that gaze. The distinction shouldn’t matter—Ellis knew better than to let it matter—but standing here under that commanding stare, he felt his professional mask beginning to crack. His body was responding like this was a lover’s touch, not someone who’d purchased him for the night.
Without warning, Gabriel’s hand slipped beneath the lace, wrapping around Ellis’ cock. Ellis barely suppressed a gasp as Gabriel adjusted him, arranging him how he wanted within the confining fabric. The casual possession of the touch sent another wave of heat through him, equal parts arousal and confusion. He didn’t do this—didn’t let himself feel this.
So why was Gabriel different?
Gabriel returned to his chair, settling back with predatory grace. “Come here,” he ordered with that imperious two-fingered twitch.
Ellis went.
“Kneel.”
