What was that manipulative bullshit? June raised her hand, the tears now pouring down her face. Her hand faltered. I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to do it!Instead, she made a fist and held it to her chest. “Fuck you, Sette.” Against her better judgment, June lunged forward and kissed her.
Even with her salty tears falling between them, Sette kissed her back, hard, hands in her hair and pulling on her sundress. June wasn’t much better. Buttons weaved in and out of Sette’s shirt. The two of them fell to the floor in a frenzy that screamed at June to put a stop to it now.
She didn’t. For fifteen years, she had been playing it safe. So much distance between herself and others. A cool, collected exterior and nothing but calculations in her brain. Maybe, for once, she wanted to throw all that in the wind and fall into one of the few women she would ever call a girlfriend.
June was in a daze afterward. She resumed her plan to go back to the Manoir alone, having already activated the rideshare app on her phone. “No, no,” she kept saying whenever Sette insisted on taking her. “I need to think. Goodbye.”
She stumbled out of Sette’s townhouse and into the lavender Prius pulling up to the stoop. A young woman with thick-rimmed glasses waved and smiled. June was worried the Manoir would be too far away, but after checking in with her boyfriend, the driver agreed to take her all the way up there. In return, June left her a huge tip and a partial promise that someone else would want driven back into town.
Good thing the woman didn’t want to chat on the two-hour drive into the mountains, because June was busy cleaning herself up and trying to think about anything but Sette.I can’t believe she made me cry. Nobody makes me cry.She touched up her makeup before staring at her phone. Also a good thing that there was a strict policy about never exchanging phone numbers with clients. Some did it anyway, but June had always seen the sense in such a rule. Now she really felt it. If Sette were in her phone, she would’ve done something stupid. Like text her.
Also a good thing that Miquela was not in her phone. She didn’t know why, though.
By the time she arrived at the Manoir, her face was back in somber order, but not her head. June thanked her driver and ascended the stairs to the Manoir, greeted by the bouncer and tended to by one of the maids. In a few hours, June would be wearing one of her best designer dresses and draping herself across the laps of a few rich jerks.
Before that, however, she had to check in with the boss.
“You’re back early.” Monique gazed at June from behind a piece of paper. “Did everything go all right with Dr. Christie?”
June could only nod. “Any messages for me?”
Monique noted her employee’s mood before answering. “Yes, actually. Ms. Bolivar called. She wants to take you out this weekend.” The end piece of her eyeglasses tapped against her mouth. “She asked to take you out for more than a night.”
“Hope you told her no.”
Monique’s smile was not reassuring. “Au contraire, Ms. Kingsley. You need to go pack your bags for this Saturday morning. By Saturday night, you won’t even be in the country anymore.”
June dropped her overnight bag onto Monique’s Persian rug.That’s what I think about that.
Chapter 9
Miquela
No one looked better in the family jet than June, dressed for comfort in a stylish off-the-shoulder shift and a wide-brimmed hat. Miquela would have her mouth all over those delicious shoulders by now, but June looked like she was off in her own world. Maybe she had airplane jitters.I can think of a few ways to soothe those.She’d wait until they were airborne.
“We’ll be departing in about ten minutes, Ms. Bolivar… Miss…”
“Kingsley,” June supplied to the flight attendant. “And thank you.”
Miquela chuckled at how well she handled the staff.Of course she does. She’s a woman used to some means by now. Miquela wanted to reach over and stroke that soft skin exposed in June’s shift, but she was too far away. “It’s an eight-hour flight,ma cherie.” Somehow, Miquela had taken to using French, the language of love. Usually, she avoided the language unless shehad to use it. Spanish or English was much more natural. Yet June had surprised her with the limited language skills that she had picked up from clients over the years. Soon, she would be worldlier than Miquela. “Soon enough, we’ll be in Monaco.”
Three months ago, Miquela would have never guessed she would be taking one of her paid girlfriends back home with her. Yet when Monique offered her this opportunity to spend some quality time with June, she took it. After all, this was the woman she claimed to love in the middle of heated passion. For the few subsequent weeks in which she played a mad dash between Monaco and America, having little time to see her new beloved, let alone bid on her beauty, Miquela thought long and hard about how she really felt. After a while, she convinced herself that it was nothing more than her libido telling stories. Then she saw her again. The moment June was in her sight, her heart knew.
That bastardlove.
She was standoffish at the moment, but Miquela had every reassurance that June would be hers when they landed in Nice, France. From there, it would be endless luxury for two nights and three glorious days. Miquela didn’t even have to work. This was purely a pleasure trip to show June what she offered.
Who knew what that other woman had done to woo her. For all Miquela knew, her rival for June’s permanent affection was Melinda Gates herself.
She was ready to be chatty during the flight, but June conked out asleep before they even reached maximum altitude. If Miquela wanted to talk to someone, she needed to get on her phone. Who would she call? It was the wrong time zone everywhere in the world.
The only way to amuse herself and keep June comfortable was to slide over to her side of the plane and wrap both arms around her. “Mi amour,” Miquela purred into her ear. Good, herbrain finally abandoned French.That’ll change when we land in France. Until then? Her real language of love. “No, don’t wake up. You can sleep.”
“Good,” she mumbled. “Because I was up really late last night.”
Miquela didn’t ask. “Sleep well, then. You’ll be refreshed when we land.”
What Miquela didn’t count on was falling asleep next to her. She never fell asleep on planes. Yet having June by her let her drift off to a void of comfort.
