Free Mind of the Phoenix by Jamie McLachlan Page B

nothing,” I say breezily. “It’s just that I was beginning to think that you weren’t interested in women.”
    He narrows his eyes and says carefully, “What makes you say that?”
    “Well, because you’re not married and you made it seem like you’ve never visited the pleasure house,” I say, deliberately pausing to pour sugar and cream into my coffee. “And because you didn’t seem to be affected by seeing me naked twice. Even Constable Jamieson blushed at the sight of me, and he’s engaged.”
    “Perhaps, Del Mar, you’re not my type.”
    “Maybe I’m not,” I say icily. “But I’m just a whore, as you like to point out by continuing to refer to me as Del Mar.”
    “I see,” he says slowly as he leans toward me. “So, would you prefer me to act charmed like Constable Jamieson, or take advantage of you like I have no doubt Constable Bradford would have done if I hadn’t interrupted? I suppose it doesn’t matter as long as I’ve paid .”
    I look at him coolly. “I’d prefer you to call me Moira.”
    “That’s it?”
    “Yes.”
    He leans back and says, “Then consider it done, Moira. ”
    I sigh irritably. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
    “Like what?” he asks innocently. “I see no other way to pronounce the name.”
    “It’s not your pronunciation. It’s–” I pause at his amused look. “Fine, say it however you want. I suppose that’s better than hearing you call me Del Mar all the time.”
    He looks down at his pocket watch. “Time for us to leave, Del–” He stops and looks at me pointedly as he amends his words. “ Moira .”
    I smile appreciatively and rise. Even if he says my name in a condescending tone, I prefer it over his continual reference to my previous owner. He pays, and we leave the café. We drive to Mrs. Darwitt’s estate in silence, and it is only when we have parked in front of the house that he speaks.
    “According to Mrs. Darwitt, we are here for a routine follow-up on the death of an Elite member,” he informs me as I examine the beautiful brick house in front of me. It is in the middle of Parker Avenue—one of the richest streets in ward twenty-eight.
    Even though I envied others for being allowed to own property, I still could never fathom what they did with all those rooms. The only space I had been permitted to live in was my boudoir at the pleasure house, and that had been enough. Granted, I didn’t have that many possessions and I suppose that rich people fill their lives with plenty of things . Not to mention, they probably have a room for every single thing instead of rooms with multiple uses. There’s probably a multitude of unused rooms that the servants are unfortunately forced to keep dusted and clean.
    “I will ask all the questions, Del– Moira ,” he instructs, and I wonder how many times he will have to correct himself before he starts automatically calling me by my first name. “I will tell them that you are an Elite blocker–”
    “I’d rather be a concubine than one of them .”
    “So that when it comes to our interrogation with the maid, you’ll be permitted to read her mind,” he says, ignoring my interruption. His green eyes then glance at me austerely as he adds, “You’re to only read her mind of the crime scene, but I would also like you to see if her mind has been tampered with by the Phoenix.”
    “Alright,” I mumble, feeling buoyed by the idea of reading someone’s mind.
    We leave the vehicle and head toward the door. The butler, a tall, dark-skinned man, opens the door and takes our coats. He’s shocked by the cropped length of my dark hair but has the decency not to gawk. He undeniably has much practice when it comes to turning away at scandalous affairs. He directs us to a parlour room where Mrs. Darwitt is already seated elegantly on a chair. She’s a beauty with gorgeous golden locks. Her face seems to glow despite the shadows beneath her eyes, and then my gaze drops to the protruding