Page 95 of Their Courtesan
“Probably. It’s hard to keep track sometimes.”
“I have two younger sisters.” The light turned green. “Dolores is one year younger. She married a French banker, but comes here sometimes. My youngest sister Maria has graduated from university and lives with my family here. My mother is determined to get her dating an Italian or a Pole or… I have no idea. I think some sheikh might be in there too.”
“You know what I like about my job?” Judith held her phone up so she could snap pictures of the scenery going by. “I get to date whomever I want. If I were born into this lifestyle, life would be pretty miserable for me.”
“Whomever you want? You mean if they have the means to afford you, right?”
She turned her pearly-whites toward him. “Like I said. Whomever I want.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Ms. King.” Once they were free on the road, Miguel gunned the gas and whipped down a steep hill. “Now let me show you the most beautiful city in the world!”
Monaco may have been small, and it may only take ten to twenty minutes to drive from one end to the other, but there was still plenty to see until lunch. Miguel took her past Monte Carlo, crawling in tourists and their cameras. Then the Prince’s Palace, which flew the Monegasque standard to show that the Prince was home. After that it was the oceanography museum, standing proudly in a cliff face. Many times Miguel asked Judith if she wanted to get out and explore by foot, but she insisted that she was fine with driving around for now. When pressed, she coolly said, “Someone made it difficult for me to walk today.”
Miguel grinned at himself in the rearview mirror. “Later, then. It’s almost lunchtime. After that, I want to take you to the marina.”
“I want to see your big boat.”
“Oh, you will see my big boat.”
He pulled to the side to finish texting his sister Dolores. She asked him to meet her and Maria at an obscure restaurant that was invitation only, at the top of some shopping building Miguel never paid much attention to.
Miguel tossed the keys to a valet before looping his arm around Judith. The doorman to the shopping center nodded his head, instantly recognizing one of Monaco’s most darling sons. “You are awaited upstairs,Monsieur.”
“Did you tell your family that I was coming?” Judith asked in the elevator. It offered a full view of the outdoors, and she talked whilst taking in the ocean view during their ascent. “Sounds like it’s you and your sisters otherwise. I don’t want to intrude.”
“I told them I was on a date and that I would bring you by for lunch.” Miguel shrugged. “On one hand I want to see my sisters, but on the other, it’s not at the expense of spending some valuable time with you. Then again, Dolores was piqued after that. She likes to get into my business, so I may as well introduce you on my own terms.” He kissed her cheek. “Especially if we’ll be spending more valuable time together in the future.”
All it took was some breath blown into her ear, and Judith was shuddering in his embrace.I may have given her a thorough once-over last night, but she’s the type to always be ready to go.There was so much about her that made her his perfect woman.
The restaurant only seated a few at a time. That wasn’t what made it so exclusive, however. Nor was it the lack of any advertising. No, what made it so special was the food and service. A man (or woman) could order anything he had an appetite for. It didn’t matter where in the world it came from, or how much it cost, or even how difficult it was to procure. One ordered, and one got it within ten minutes, no questions asked.
This meant an endless menu. Miguel hoped his beautiful date had an empty stomach. Too bad they ate a hearty breakfast back at his apartment.
Both of his sisters were already at the back table, secured in a corner and overlooking the marina. The view here was much closer than Miguel’s apartment. Ah, yes, there was his yacht. Now he was aching to go out on the water for a few hours. Perfect after lunch fun!
First, his sisters.
Dolores stood, her Dior dress falling simply on her frame, but no less extravagant than he had come to expect from the middle Bolivar child. Miguel may have been older, but his little sister was far sager and, he would dare say, quicker than anyone else in the family. There was a reason she had been able to snag one of the richest bankers in France for a husband. The wedding was two years ago, and yet the Bolivars were still recovering from the insanity it brought to their lives.
“Hermano,” she greeted coolly, exchanging kisses on the cheek. It was the first time in a long while Miguel stopped holding Judith’s hand. “So good to see you. I didn’t think we would meet up in Monaco until Papa’s birthday.” Dolores looked to the woman by his side. “Who is this? Your date?¿Cuáles lenguas habla?”
“Si,this is Judith.” Miguel put a protective hand on her shoulder. “She speaks English.” He grinned. “Plus a little Spanish. She’s American.”
“Ah. American.” Dolores smiled, but Miguel knew it was the fakest one in her repertoire.Doesn’t matter. She’s like that with all strangers.“You’re already making nice with the locals over there, I see.”
“It is where we met, yes.” Judith extended her hand. “Judith King. Pleasure.”
“King?” Dolores daintily shook her hand before yanking her own away. The coifs of blond hair on her head shook with the movement. Dangling, beaded earrings jingled. “That’s quite presumptuous of your ancestors.”
“She has a dry sense of humor,” Miguel muttered in Judith’s ear. To her credit, she did not falter in her polite demeanor. “This is Maria, the youngest.”
“Pleasure,” she said lightly, with the thickest accent out of the three of them. Her natural languages were Spanish and French, as opposed to Spanish and English like her siblings. Although she was London educated, so her English accent was quite… British. “I’m sorry if I should have heard of you before today. I’ve been out of the loop.”
“No worries, Marlita,” Dolores said, using the family’s nickname for the youngest Bolivar child. “Nobody had heard of Ms. King until this morning.” She flashed her brother a frustrated grimace. “As usual, our brother has kept to himself.”
“Let’s eat, huh?”
They sat around the table, Judith between Miguel and Dolores. Hilariously enough, it was not Judith who looked most out of place at the table of heralded Europeans. It was Maria, with her golden skin, dark brown hair pulled into a ballerina bun, and loud jewelry that clanked with every movement. She also wore the shortest skirt and had heels as long as her calves. Even so, with as garish as she was in such a fancy establishment, she was still far friendlier than the Queen Bee of the trio. Dolores never once took a derisive eye off Judith, who sat with perfect posture and even ordered a modest meal using her best French that she had picked up from one day in Monaco.Brilliant. She is simply amazing.Of course a lot of her abilities came from her extensive experience in these types of settings, but Judith was a natural chameleon. She could blend in anywhere, and if she couldn’t, she could fake it. She had said many times that she only spoke a little French. Yet her accent was flawless when the waiter came around.
