Chapter 12 | The Devil of Siren City

Skylar

When Candy said he made the best seafood alfredo in Siren City, I assumed it was hyperbole. Or perhaps a reflection of the extreme confidence the man exudes through every pore of his skin.

But I’ll be damned if it isn’t true.

I enjoy bite after bite as I listen to him and Adrian chat back and forth at the kitchen table. Adrian sits at the head of the rectangular table, while Candy and I sit at his sides. Candy hops up occasionally and swings around the table to refill our glasses — an incredible dinner host. He must work in hospitality. Or at an upscale restaurant on the north side.

“I’m a courtesan,” he says after I ask.

My brows rise. “A courtesan? You mean, like... a prostitute?”

His smile never leaves his face. “Exactly, yes. Or a call boy. An escort. Whatever term you like, it probably fits.”

“Is there one you prefer?” I ask, not wanting to offend him.

“You know, I haven’t really thought about it,” he says. “It’s not something one has printed on business cards, you know.”

I nod, fascinated by him. “Right.”

“But if I had to choose...” He takes a sip of his wine and grins. “Oh, what is that word you used to call me, Adrian?”

Adrian hums softly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

We laugh. I look between them, curious about their relationship. They have history, obviously, but it’s hard to tell how deep that history goes.

“How long have you two known each other?” I ask.

“Too damn long,” Candy says, lovingly gazing at Adrian. “I was his ward.”

I cover my mouth as I chew, dabbing my lips with my napkin. “His ward?” I repeat in surprise.

“Yes.”

“People still have those?”

“Adrian does.”

Adrian says nothing. He sits still with one finger gently balanced on the rim of his wineglass.

Candy leans away from him, his focus on me across from him. “I grew up in an orphanage here in Siren City.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. “That must have been rough.”

“It wasn’t easy. It was also dull and very boring, so I ran away when I was about eleven. Maybe twelve. I survived the best I could for a few years. Made friends. A few enemies.” He glances at Adrian through the corner of his eye. “Until one day somebody hit me with his car.”

My jaw drops at Adrian. “You hit him with your car?!”

Adrian stays quiet, merely reacting with a light glare at Candy.

“It’s a common con,” Candy explains. “You spot the fanciest car on the road, you hop out in front of it, and make a big old fuss until the rich bastard behind the wheel empties his wallet on you to get you to go away. Everybody did it — at least, in my peer group.”

“Sounds risky,” I say, my trained mind instantly going to shattered bones and ruptured spleens.

“Nothing worth having in Siren City comes without risk,” he says, smiling, his playful eyes shifting toward Adrian again. “So there I was, lying on the street, screaming in nonexistent pain, when this tall, muscled tree of a man steps out of the car and stands over me.”

I look at Adrian. He glances back, his expression unreadable.

“I thought I’d hit the jackpot,” Candy continues. “I mean, this man was dripping in luxury. Fancy suit. Shiny shoes. Perfect hair. Designer sunglasses worth more than me. When he grunted a slur and flopped out his wallet, I thought I was in the clear, but then...” He smirks at Adrian, whose lip curls. “This fucking guy climbs out of the backseat and walks over to see what was going on. Before anyone could get a word out, Adrian grabs me by the collar, drags me across the pavement, and tosses me into the trunk of the car.”

I gasp in surprise, though after what I saw Adrian do to that kid in the alleyway with my own two eyes, it’s not a far stretch of the imagination. “In the trunk?” I ask.

Adrian picks up his wineglass. “I didn’t want him to dirty the leather.”

“Yes.” Candy hums. “God forbid anyone mess up Adrian Price’s precious leather seats. Though, to be fair, bathing regularly wasn’t part of my normal routine at the time.” He pauses, his smile warm. “But that changed. From that day forward, this one wouldn’t let me leave his side.”

“You could leave anytime you wanted to,” Adrian says.

“Lesser of two evils,” Candy says, an obvious tease. “He took me home with him. Cleaned me up. Put new clothes on my back and hot food in my belly. Then he put me to work.”

“As a prostitute?” I ask, my jaw still on the table.

“Oh. No!” Candy laughs. “That came later. No. I ran errands. Entertained his guests. I was his eyes, his ears, in places where he couldn’t go. Things like that.”

I open my mouth to ask about Adrian’s work, then quickly snap it closed again. While Candy clearly seems open and willing to talk at length about his professional life, I’m not supposed to ask Adrian questions. There are thirty-thousand monthly good reasons for that, so I keep my — admittedly burning — questions to myself.

“One day, I accompanied Adrian to Scarlet Street. That’s our red district, as they’re often called,” he adds for me. “He had some business to attend to at Aphrodite’s pub, so I made myself scarce for a while... and that’s when I saw this woman. She was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen in my life, with long blonde hair and the face of an angel. She moved from table-to-table, her smile alone commanding not only attention but respect. After an hour of gawking at her, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Time to go,” Candy says in his best Adrian voice. I chuckle. “I asked Adrian who she was. He laughed and asked how long I wanted with her.”

I arch a brow at Adrian. He shrugs.

“But I didn’t want her,” Candy says. “I wanted to be her. I wanted to own the eyes of everyone in the room and be admired and desired. The sex ain’t bad, either.” He sips his wine. “Anyway, that’s how I found my calling. Adrian didn’t like it, though.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“A pretty little thing like me on the market? With this face and this ass?” Candy chuckles at the roll in Adrian’s eyes. “I’d be torn apart. He had good reason to worry, but he knew I was serious, so he supported me through my training.”

“Training?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking. There’s so much more in sex work than just sex. It’s body language and signals. Entertaining and manners — of which, I had none, so he was right on the money there. Above all, it’s,” he reaches for the wine bottle once more and brings it to Adrian’s glass, “the graceful art of hospitality.”

I chuckle as Adrian lays a finger over his glass. Candy offers it to me instead. “Just a little, please,” I say, letting him refill it.  

“Adrian made sure I came into it right,” he continues. “He hired the best tutors. I had a dozen mentors for every little thing. It was nothing but tutelage for months and months. I mean, can you imagine talking about dicks, day in, day out, and never ever being allowed to actually touch one? It’s torture. And women?!” He passionately places a fist on his chest. “Oh, women. But...” He leans forward slightly. “We made an absolute killing at my auction when the time came, so it was worth it. After that, he vetted my clients for the first few years until I had to practically beg him to stop. Then, he hired a private bodyguard and, well... we know how that turned out, don’t we?” he adds with a wink at Adrian.

“Auction?” I ask.

“For my virginity.”

My cheeks blush as I lean back in my chair. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” Candy says, reading my expression. “I didn’t mean to shock you. I told you I had no manners. Forgive me, please.”

“No, it’s fine,” I say, chuckling through it. “Really. I just didn’t expect the words virginity and auction to hit the table tonight in that order.”

“Culture shock hits hard in Siren City. I often forget we’re not like other places.”

“There’s nowhere like it I’ve seen,” I say. “Not exactly what I expected, either.”

“What did you expect?” he asks. “If you don’t mind my asking. I rarely get the chance to sit down with someone new in town. You’re from the mainland, I assume?”

“Kansas City,” I answer with a nod.

“That’s far away. And... Midwestern.” He squints an eye. “I would have figured east coast based on the accent.”

My chest tightens.

“I wasn’t aware I had one,” I say quickly. “But my mother was from the east coast.”

“Ah.” Candy nods. “Must be it.”

I glance at Adrian. He still sits quietly, his eyes and ears on us. “But Siren City...” I say, forcing the subject back. “Well, the first thing people hear is that it’s lawless. It’s run by crime lords.”

“And that’s true. Mostly,” Candy says. “We have a mayor, a police chief, and all that junk you’d expect, but they hold little influence. The true power rests with a few. It’s been that way since the founding.” He smiles. “Those born and raised here have the blood of pirates flowing through their veins.”

I give Adrian another look, remembering what he told me on the boardwalk, but I don’t ask. I can’t. “Pirates?” I ask Candy.

Ahoy there.

I ignore the teasing shanty in my ears, shaking off the sudden pinch behind my right eye.

“They believed in a place beyond rules and laws,” Candy says. “Where all men and women walked free. That was Siren City. That is Siren City, a place where everyone is equal and free to love or hate as they will. It’s really quite beautiful.”

“Or... quite chaotic,” I point out.

“Sometimes.”

“You said the true power rests with a few.”

“I did, yes.”

“Then that must mean there’s someone in charge. Some structure beneath it all. So, who holds the power in Siren City?” I ask.

Candy finishes his glass. “Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “currently, that would be Zeus.”

“Candy,” Adrian says, breaking his silence.

I nearly flinch, the force of his voice splitting the air between us.

Candy counters him with a gentle look. “I’m merely telling the new resident what every citizen already knows,” he says.

Adrian holds Candy’s gaze for several moments before he finally looks away, his sharp eyes finding mine. I shudder beneath the same gripping warmth I always feel when we match eyes this way.

I force myself to look at Candy instead. “Who is Zeus?” I ask.