“Why don’t you just put out, babe?” Renee muttered as I’d dressed that evening. I still would not perform sexual services. “Flash those tits along with your baby blues and you could ask whatever you wanted.”
The top girls at the agency made as much as eight hundred to a grand in one outing. This included my roommate, Renée. But I had given the “only good company” caveat. The thought of being pawed by a stranger made me sick inside. Although technically this wasn’t a stranger. Poor old “Bert” asked for me at least a couple of times a month.
The business dinner had fallen through. Umberto had insisted we go somewhere fun rather than let a beautiful night go to waste.
Beautiful? Whatever.It was still just a job to me. Though I plastered a smile on my face. He was a customer, after all.
I had ended up in the VIP area of a club. It was a dimly lit room above a dance floor that was closed off with clear glass. A lot of girls milled about in outfits that revealed too much skin. I knew most of them would kill to take my place tonight. That thought caused me to feel more unease.
The man on the couch next to ours had been stealing glances at me all night. Good-looking in an oily way, his shirt was unbuttoned too low. There were gold chains nestled into the vee of his bare chest. He looked like an 80s porn star. He had three girls on his arm and obviously did not seem satisfied. I was tired of his lewd glances. I was also growing more irritated with Bert's insistent fingers. I locked eyes with the stranger in a deadpan stare that wiped the sly grin from his face. He turned away uncomfortably.
By the time we were through with our meal, Bert was slurring and guffawing at his loud, meaningless jokes. I had forced myself to enjoy my plate of ravioli. The sauce had been surprisingly good. I washed it down with two more glasses of wine to numb my discomfort. They served ice cream for dessert.
My host, who had switched from beer, was just shining off his third bottle of wine. He had taken off his suit jacket so he could stretch out better on the couch. His head was beginning to loll, like he was about to doze off. I cursed silently to myself. I contemplated whether to leave. Though my conscience said I should haul his 200-pound meat sack out of the club. I didn’t know how I’d do it without breaking a bone or two.
“Bert? Bert! We should go. I’ll call for the check.” I stopped a waitress in her tracks and asked her to get it. Bert was beginning to snore. I patted him down, searching for his wallet. I found it and opened it to find a slim wad of hundred-dollar bills. I paid, then I asked for his car to be brought around. Thankfully, his driver sent up. Between us, we dragged him out of the club and crammed him into the car.
Bert drooled, his head leaning on the passenger window. Occasionally it knocked sharply against it. I opened his wallet again and took out two hundred-dollar bills. It was the amount I thought I deserved for the night’s work.
I tapped the driver to get his attention.
“Hi, so I’m guessing this has happened before. Is there a hotel where he can spend the night? I don't think his wife will let him inside in this state,” I suggested. I didn’t know why I bothered. On some level it was born out of concern for the poor woman who was unfortunate enough to be married to him.
“Yes, ma’am,” said the driver. “The Acordia. It’s a couple blocks away. I’ll take him. Don’t worry.” He looked at me in the rearview mirror with a mixture of surprise and respect. He had a heavy Italian accent that made him punctuate each word with a brief pause. “Where are you headed?”
“Just drop me off on the next street, if you don’t mind. I’ll find my way.”
“You know, most girls don’t bother with him like that. You’re different,” he said. He maintained eye contact through the rearview mirror. “’Berto, my boss, you know. He’s usually good with alcohol, holds his own. I think you’re so beautiful he overdrinks to impress. One time, I wait outside the club till 4 am. The club was empty by now, but he didn’t show. So, I go to find him. The girl he came with? Beautiful, too. Red hair like you. Anyways, she was gone. Cleaned out his wallet and just left him on the chair.”
“Oh,” I responded hesitantly. I could not think of anything to say. I was reluctant to have a conversation anyhow. I fussed with the hem of the red dress I had borrowed from Renée for the evening. It complimented my figure and set a lovely contrast with my hair. Bert had gushed over it.
“Well, when he sobers up, tell him I had a lovely time,” I said and smiled wanly. The car veered into another street. I raised a hand. “Here’s my stop. Good night.”
“Good night, ma’am,” he replied. “And thank you. You’re a good person.”
“Thanks.” I gave a shrug. I didn’t know what he expected. Not every girl in my line of work was some kind of criminal. I clambered out, and he drove off. Bert was sleeping soundly in the back seat.
I hailed a cab and shook my head in relief as I went over the events of the evening. I knew I would find bruises where he had groped my thighs. Despite it all, I was grateful I could send a substantial check back home. Emilio had run off again, and Mom was left to fend for herself. I knew how much she depended on the regular checks from me. It was difficult to find any work. And looking after my uncle didn’t make it easier. I tried to take care of her as I could. If I had to work long hours and date sleazy men, it was worth it.
The cab pulled to a stop in front of my apartment. I had never been so excited to get home.
Chapter 7
Prince Walker
“Miss Delavigne’s on the line, sir,” Jane said as I answered the phone. I felt a surge of satisfaction. It had been weeks since I’d met the woman at Andy’s charity function. It was a game of cat and mouse. There’d been no easy first date for us. She’d made excuse after excuse. After Jane had found her number for me, I’d called repeatedly. And she’d been cool. It had set me on fire. I’d pursued her relentlessly. For the first time in years, I’d been focused on just one woman. I’d sent her flowers. Gifts. Jewelry.
Angelique had never returned a single one of my calls.
And then a week ago, we’d bumped into each other. Seemingly accidentally, at a friend’s cocktail party. I’d known she would be there, of course.
It was set in a high-end gallery in a converted warehouse. The place was sprawling and airy. Crowded with the “it” crowd, all chattering and scenting the air with expensive fragrances. I’d arrived with someone else. That had seemed to capture Angelique’s attention. Dressed in midnight blue satin, she’d captured mine.
It had taken me less than 20 minutes to abandon my companion. I doubt she cared much. My invitation had been sent on a card typed out by my assistant. No romance there. I’d been planning to bump into my quarry.Angelique Delavigne.I’d been consumed by thoughts of her.
And she’d been there. The blue of her dress matching her eyes. Eyes which had darkened when they met mine. She wanted me, goddammit! Why was she still playing hard to get?
When she’d left the room, I’d been hot on her heels. Hot in more ways than one. The narrow hallway out of the main gallery had led into the darkness. I was more than a little sure she wanted it that way. Wanted me to follow her. I’d practically bumped into her ass as I strode down that dark hall.
