“Oh, a friend of mine told me to hold his watch. I didn’t want to lose it, so I put it on.”
“And this friend’s name is?”
“Augustine,” Dree said, mostly because she didn’t know his real name.
“Humph,” Sister Ann said. “At leasthehas a good name.”
After she finished talking to Sister Ann, Dree considered how she would get an advance from Augustine.
Mandi needed that money to pay for Victor’s therapysoon,and Dree didn’t know how long the banks would take to transfer the money from France or wherever Augustine had his bank account to Mandi in Arizona.
All the options she could think of seemed manipulative and vile.
Blow him before asking?
Promise to blow him right afterward?
Dreereallywasn’t a prostitute. Any self-respecting businesswoman would be way better at asking for what she was due. It was a good thing Dree had gone to nursing school instead of trying for an MBA.
But Dree had to get that money, and she had to get it tonight.
Chapter Eight
Eiffel Tower
Maxence
Maxence woke up face-down in the thick duvet with something tiny patting his hand and whispering, “Augustine? Sir?Hey, Auggie.Supper’s here. I tried to sign for it, but the guy won’t let me.”
The bedroom was darker than it should have been, and for just a second, the little blonde fuzzed and turned into a beautiful black woman with luscious lips, and then a green-eyed goddess who faded away when Maxence reached for her.
The pale girl with the heart-shaped face and pointed chin swam through the veils of dreams and patted his hand again. “Augustine? He said ‘Lord Severn’ had to sign for it.Are you a noble-dude?”
“Nope. Not a nobleman,” Max grunted. He pushed himself up on his arms and staggered out to the living room to sign for the supper. If room service had delivered the supper, he’d overslept.
When the waiter had closed the door behind himself, Max told Dree, “Arthur Finch-Hatten, Lord Severn, is one of my best friends from the boarding school where we grew up. He’s a nobleman, not me.”
Her pretty little eyes widened. “Wow, youknowa real lord?”
When Dree’s eyes expanded like that, she looked like a bunny, and he kind of wanted to tickle her to watch her squirm. He liked the way her body jiggled in all the right ways when she squirmed. “Eh, he’s kind of an asshole. He reserved this suite. I’ll put it on my credit card when we leave, but it’s in his name for now. I’m wearing his clothes.”
“What?You bought me all those clothes, and you don’t have any? Why don’t you have anyclothes?”
“I’m supposed to lie to you, right?” Max asked, shaking his head to wake up. He was still groggy from his nap.
“Uh, sure?” she said with a question in her voice.
He grinned. “I pissed off a mafia boss by helping his wife leave him. I put her on a plane from Italy back to her family in Mauritius. Her mafioso husband threatened to cut off my head and feed it to the sharks. So, my buddies Arthur and Casimir borrowed a rock star’s yacht and saved me from them. We sailed up the coast and then flew Casimir’s plane from Nice to Paris, so I didn’t have time to stop at home to pick up clothes at home. It turned out that Arthur had to go back to London and couldn’t stay, so he left some clothes here for me because we wear the same size.”
Dree cracked up. “Oh, my God! That’s hysterical. Good one! Okay, fine. I’ll stop asking.”
That was easy enough.
This lying game of hers might be fun.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s eat. I’d planned to shower before supper, but we don’t want it to get cold.”
“What did you get?” she asked, fidgeting as she looked at the covered plates.
