Page 72 of Their Courtesan
Her crestfallen countenance almost made him sad. Whether it was meant to do that or it was how she truly felt… didn’t matter. Miguel had few relationship principles, but they now told him to mind where he stuck his cock. He hadn’t felt that tug of monogamy in years. Not since…
He swallowed.
“If you’re ever in the mood, you have my number.”
“I certainly do.” Serene had backed off before Clive returned. Miguel chose then to go to the restroom, even though he probably wouldn’t be back in time for the start of the second half of the opera.
What was his problem? He found a single-stall restroom and paced around, occasionally glancing at himself in the mirror and washing his hands to keep them busy.I never turn down Serene, unless I have to.He had the time. For fuck’s sake, he had the money. She was game, he was rich and available…
Or was he?Available, that is.
Shit! It felt wrong to be with Serene!
Miguel gripped either side of the sink and glared at himself in the mirror. The only times in his life he ever looked at himself like this was when he made a bad business deal, he fought with his family, or…
Relationships. Fuck ‘em.
His phone vibrated with a text message. He pulled out his phone and saw the main number of the Château flashing on his screen. The other bastard vying for Judith’s financial affections had outbid him again. Monica asked if Miguel would like to raise his bid as well.
“You know how much Serene would cost?” he grumbled, punching in a hugeYESon his phone. “Ten thousand. Ten measly fucking thousand for a blowjob and one round of intercourse. But no, I’ve got it hard for only onelumia.” He didn’t usually pull words like that out of his ass. Miguel always tried to call the women he hired by whatever terms they liked. Of course, those terms were constantly changing, and were different all over the world, but he had a feeling neither Serene nor Judith would appreciate being called a blasé prostitute.
The wholepointof going to women like them was that it was a business transaction and nothing more. No love. No emotions, outside of respect and perhaps a light likeness. Miguel had eschewed obnoxious emotions like romantic love after…
It was a long time ago, and it had been treating him well these past few years. Now the thought that he somehow owed Judith a form of monogamy… when even she couldn’t give him that… how fucking absurd!
“Calmaos,” he grumbled to himself. No idea who he was talking outside of himself, but if anyone was listening in outside the bathroom, they better fucking calm down too. “One thing at a time.” After inhaling deeply, Miguel made his decision: he would address how important Judith was in his life if and only if he won the bid war for her most precious commodity.
Her time.
***
Miguel called ahead the next day. He had to, since he otherwise had no plans to see Judith that night. Yet when he woke up that morning with a raging hard-on and dreams of Judith, he knew he had to confront what lurked in his heart.
Emotions. Crazy, stupid,obnoxiousemotions that had no business being in his life.
“She’s a professional,” that’s what he told himself as he drove up the mountainside, a familiar route by now. “Anything she makes you feel is fake, you bastard.” Miguel was grateful that he was going back to Monaco soon. He needed to clear his head of this American bullshit. “Don’t be apendejo.” The angrier he got, the more he slipped into Spanish – particularly Latin American. He blamed Rosa.
Fucking. Rosa.
He pulled off to the side of the road. Rain had begun to fall. Splitter. Splatter. Drop, drop, drop.
It had rained the night Rosa dumped him.
The car was back on the road, going a respectable speed, but Miguel’s brain five miles away. The sun was long down. A message from Aimee went unanswered on his phone. Probably about his trip back to Monaco coming up. He had charged her with making last minute arrangements earlier that day. She would not be going with him.
Most men who went to the Château probably did so to relax. Certainly, that was Miguel’s original plan. Then he found himself becoming more agitated the higher the altitude became. He pulled over again to use his phone. Not to call Aimee back, but to call the madam of the Château.
“I want her waiting for me in her room,” he snapped once Monica recognized his voice, “and tell her I’m making good on her promise from the last time we met.”
“Very well.” Madams. They always sounded so unbothered. “I will inform her. When you arrive, please meet me in the Receiving Room. The welcoming maid will show you the way.”
He didn’t need a welcoming maid, but Miguel went ahead and used up the last of his manners when he arrived at the Château and followed the usual song and dance of handing over his traveling coat and nodding to the maid who greeted him in lieu of Judith. “This way, sir,” she said, demure. Miguel practically overtook her when she opened the Receiving Room door.
Monica instantly caught on to his mood. “I won’t keep you, Mr. Bolivar. I have a form for you to sign. Judith told me what you had intended to do the next time you met.”
Good.He glanced over the rules for a BDSM encounter and slapped his signature on it. “Thanks. I trust you received my new bid?”
She did not smile. “Yes. Thank you for your continued patronage, Mr. Bolivar. Both Judith and I hope that you remain happy here.”
