Page 57 of Their Courtesan
Chapter 15
MIGUEL
Miguel had his fair share of French winter truffles in his life. His family may have been Spanish, but he grew up next to southern France – and anyone who was anyone in his home neighborhood served Perigord truffles on appetizers and desserts at every big function.
Nevertheless, he would not tell his hosts that there was nothing special about being served the most sought after truffle in the world. Not worth sharing when the woman next to him clapped her hands as soon as the server brought the platter of scallops into their private dining room at the region’s most esteemed French restaurant.The food is fine and most certainly French, but I forget that truffles aren’t as common on this side of the pond.At least his new companions hadn’t commented on his accent.They should hear me speak French. The worst accent.Miguel may have been fluent, but his tongue never wanted to do it. Or at least not to the standards of the Frenchmen he knew.
English speakers were much more forgiving. Even thought it sexy. He had no accent in Spanish.
“You must eat this all the time in Monaco,” Adrienne Thomas, the woman with an affinity for French cuisine, said. Her business voice was about one octave higher than the natural voice Miguel heard her use with her business partner, Ethan Cole, the other man at the table. “Unfortunately I’ve only had about three in my life.”
That is indeed unfortunate.“They didn’t have it here, but my family has an affinity for truffle shavings on their salads. Every night at dinner we would have truffles in our salads.”
“That sounds… intense.” Ethan Cole looked torn between awe of such expense and bored with the idea. “Most of our palates can’t eat more than this.” He gestured for Miguel to have the first scallop.
He served himself, picking up one small scallop laced in black truffle shavings and a fine covering of Mornay sauce.Definitely interesting.He had cheese sauce with scallops before. He had truffles on scallops before. Both at the same time? He could hear his mother cursing out the chef in heavily-accented French.
Even more interestingly, he tasted the Gruyere cheese within the sauce before the truffles. Then again, Miguel often fancied himself a cheese aficionado. His tongue had been trained to suss out a finely aged cheese before anything else, even truffles.
“Delicious.” Miguel wiped his mouth with a napkin while his hosts helped themselves. “Just like mother used to make… if mother cooked, of course.”
His hosts chuckled.Great.He had forgotten that both Adrienne Thomas and Ethan Cole were self-made successes who came from lower-class backgrounds. One would never guess looking at them in their Dior dress and Armani suit.
This dinner was purely business. One of Miguel’s first stops on his road to taking over America in the name of Bolivar was the newly merged Thomas-Cole Enterprise that was in the market for new investors around the world. They wanted to expand some of their dealings to the Mediterranean – Ethan Cole was particularly keen, since his eyes were often set on Italy, for whatever absurd reason.Italy’s not that great. Compared to Spain and France, anyway.They had good fashion and even better cuisine though, he would give the Italians that.
If Miguel liked what these two had to offer well enough, he would suggest that his family support the company’s expansion into France for a nominal return. The whole thing was God-awful boring, really. Miguel was having enough trouble as it was focusing on this business dinner since he was due to drive up to the Château to make short work of Judith in her bedroom.
It would be a late night for the both of them, but oh so worth it.Good thing I made an appointment for later instead of dropping in.
Dinner continued with more French food and enough trite conversation to last Miguel the rest of the year. He was asked all the usual things these Americans asked whenever they encountered a Monegasque for the first time: what was Monte Carlo like from his prospective? How often did he travel? Was it true that everyone was more superficial than in LA? Had he ever seen Grace Kelly? What did he mean she was before his time?
Both Ethan and Adrienne had been to Monaco multiple times, but Miguel was quickly learning that he was a strange specimen. It was starting to wear thin.For some reason it never bothers me when Judith asks me these questions.Perhaps it was the sense of adventure in her eyes. These two knew that Monaco was already old hat.
Adrienne had to leave shortly after the main course. She gave Miguel a polite kiss on the cheek and waved her fingers at him as if he should be so impressed. The moment she was shown out by the maître ‘d, Ethan conspicuously coughed into his hand and asked the waiter to bring the French white wine he best liked at this place.
“Ah, Pessac-Leognan!” Miguel exclaimed as the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc was brought out. “How did you know my favorite white wine?”
Ethan waited until his glass was half full before responding. “Lucky guess. You seem like the kind of man who likes his wine oaky, like me.”
“Good call.” Miguel grinned as his glass quickly filled as well. “It is some of the best in the world.”
Things were much more relaxing without Adrienne around. Not that there was anythingwrongwith the woman, per se, but her nervous energy and inability to talk about anything but business through dinner had made Miguel disconnect from his biggest appointment of the week. Why would he sit around and listen to that when he could think of better things… and people?Like Judith. I wonder what she’s doing right now.Miguel almost choked on his wine when he caught himself thinking that.As if I even have to ask... it’s Friday night…Not only that, but why would he think of her anyway? Out of all the women in the world, he was thinking of… well, he was thinking of a woman he intended to spend thousands of dollars on a month. No other woman could say she had that honor.
Miguel still couldn’t believe that he had to raise his bid. No problem with that, but who else could be vying for Judith’s fake affections? She was more popular than even Miguel gave her credit for.
“So how is America treating you?” Ethan asked, leaning back in his seat and crossing his leg. Good. The business chat was formally over. Any business that came up from now would be organic. “I hear you’ve taken up residence over by the river. Nice view.”
Miguel nodded into his wineglass. “I have an affinity for the water, if you understand me.”
“Monaco thing, I’m sure.”
“Of course. But even before my family relocated there, they lived in Barcelona. Most of my family is from the Valencia region.” Miguel spent half his childhood there, before his parents decided whether to let him get his education in the homeland or in the international school there in Monaco.
“I’ve never been to Valencia, but I have heard many good things about it.”
“You’ve been to Barcelona?”
Ethan cracked a rueful smile. “Once or twice. Unfortunately I’ve never stayed long.”
