Sette stood in jeans, a collared shirt, and a dinner jacket. All designer, of course, but far more casual than the tailored Italiansuit fastened to Miquela’s body.Doctors. Artists. They’re the same in that regard. Both can only think of casual comfort. Not that Miquela could blame them.
“You probably should’ve known a lot of things before we came to this,” Miquela said. She motioned to the empty stool beside her at the bar. “Have a seat. First one’s on me.”
“Dare I?”
“I won’t take a swing at you if you promise to keep your fists to yourself as well.”
Sette absentmindedly rubbed her smooth jaw. “Still feels like a trap. Smart thing to do would be to keep a wide berth between us.”
“I’ve got a few things to talk about with you.”
“Spare your damn breath.” Sette moved the leather bag strapped across her chest so it rested on her hip instead of in front of her. “I’ve got work to do. Unless you’re…”
“Yes, yes, paintings. Sit your ass down.”
Monday morning, Miquela had her sit-down meeting with Aimee to go over the week’s plans. Since it was a national holiday, they had no other meetings to tend to, except for Aimee’s agreement to go out with the new friends she had made since moving to America. Which meant she wasn’t too happy when Miquela asked her to make a few phone calls – including to Joy Cheung.
“Tell her I want to set up a meeting with her client about commissioning some work. No, if you tell her I want to buy a painting she already has, she’ll insist on handling it herself.”
This meeting had been finalized the night before. Miquela had given a fake name to make sure Sette showed up. Naturally, she looked like she wanted to leave as soon as possible.
However, she sat.Perchedwas actually more like it. A tentative pose to let her get up and march out of there as soon as it was most convenient. Not even the bottle of beer landing onthe counter behind her got her attention – she would only stare at Miquela, something burning behind her brown eyes.
“Suppose I should thank you for coming to my show,” Sette grunted. Artists sure could be derisive. “I’m not a fool, though. I know what you and June did. Getting back at me. Fine. We’re even.”
“Did she tell you?” Miquela asked. That other bottle of beer was sounding good, water or no water first. “Or had I left her so satisfied that she turned down your business that night?”
“Why, I should…”
“Calm down. I’m here to offer a truce.”
“What?” Sette grabbed the beer and spun around on her stool. Good. Miquela had her attention.
“Look, we both clearly love the same woman. She tells me that she loves us both equally, and why should I disbelieve her? Come on. You don’t think she’s a one-lover woman, do you?”
“Do I look dumb?”
Does she really want me to answer that?
“Hear me out, all right? If you agree to my little scheme I’ve cooked up, we could both become happy women. Maybe she’ll be a happy woman, emotionally and financially.”
Sette gripped her bottle with a tense hand. “You’ve got ten minutes.”
Miquela only needed five.
Chapter 13
June
Another Friday afternoon, another set of rounds to make in the Manoir.
Since Monique geared up for her maternity leave, June was tasked with more chores. Didn’t help that Monique was told by her doctor to rest as often as possible and stay off those dainty feet of hers. So while the madam holed herself away in her office to do paperwork and have business meetings as usual, June became queen bee of the front end.
One of her favorite things to do was to use Monique’s key to access the camera control room. There were two, and the one by her chambers was the good one, full of cameras peering into everyone’s bedrooms and other private places that clients liked to use for sexual services. (Minus any bathrooms. Nobody would ever sign off on that.) Everyone knew about these cameras, since they were mostly for safety purposes, but few cared. When oneexchanged money for sex in a pleasure house, they knew they were under surveillance.
Whether or not they knew June was watching was another matter.
“My condolences on that birthmark,” she said, propping her bare foot up on the table so she could paint her toenails. The fumes in that room would get to her eventually.
