Page 96 of Their Courtesan
“A bottle of wine for the whole table,” Miguel ended his order with. “Something red from 1922. Whatever that is.” When his sister raised an eyebrow, he explained, “1922 is never a bad year for wine.”
“So sure of yourself.” Dolores cracked a wicked smile. “Don’t let him boss you around, Ms. King. He was bossing me around for years before I finally stood up to him.”
“Ah, yes, the infamous salad in my face at Christmas dinner.” Miguel had been one ornery twelve-year-old. When he was that young, he was picking onLolawhenever he had the chance. (Now only her husband and mother were allowed to call her Lola.) “How could I forget?” All it took was one snide comment in his sister’s direction at Christmas dinner, and suddenly sly little Lola had belted half a dish of romaine in his face. Miguel had practically drowned in vinaigrette. After that, Dolores became bossier, more of a pain in the ass than a fun target for Miguel’s misplaced mischief. Later he found out that’s when she started going through puberty.
“Did you all grow up here in Monaco?”
The three of them glanced at her, Dolores with a slight sneer to her lips. “Dolores and I moved between here and Valencia a lot. Maria came into her own when the family finally settled here, yes. So in a way, we all did grow up here.”
“Miguel and Maria went to the International School, but not me. I went to a boarding school in France.” Dolores had a look that implied she had said too much.
“That’s right. Papa said you needed to improve your French, dearhermana.” Maria was smiling too. At least hers was genuine. “I didn’t have that problem.”
“Yes, well… I can inform you that my French is perfectly fine now. Pierre has made sure of that.”
After the collective eye roll, they went back to friendlier topics, playing catch-up in business and family. Miguel talked about establishing business in the States and even his recent naval acquisition, to which both sisters rolled their eyes, having never shared his love for sailing. Maria talked about taking a fashion internship in Milan, although she was still on the fence about it. “You have it easy,” Dolores mumbled in Spanish so Judith couldn’t understand that well. “You’re the youngest, so you get to do whatever you want. Miguel has to improve the business, and I had to marry rich. You better appreciate your ability to fuck off to Milan and become a fashionintern.”
“It’s paid, though,” Maria muttered, completely clueless as to why Dolores was riding her ass. “What abouthermano?Isn’t he supposed to marry well too?”
“Of course he is! He’s carrying the Bolivar genes, isn’t he?”
Miguel glanced at Judith, obliviously chewing her food without a sound.Lucky. I’d love to not know what my sisters are saying.“I don’t have a timeline, though,” he said with authority. “Not like you, Lolita. You had to marry before those eggs dried up.”
“Why you…”
Judith glanced up as the atmosphere turned dark. She caught Dolores’s eyes.
“Sorry. Won’t call you Lolita again,” Miguel said in English. “Didn’t realize it was still such a sore spot.” He knew.
Now that the gauntlet had been smacked in her face, Dolores would take off her dainty church gloves. “So, Judy, was it?”
Judith put her fork down. “Judith, if you will.”
“Right. How did you meet our brother, again? He never once mentioned you until this morning. Quite the shock, really. He never brings his women around.”
His women?Miguel furrowed his brows.
“Forgive me. I sometimes forget my manners in English. I mean… he never brings hisgirlfriendsaround. You’re the first one we’ve met in years. Who was the last one?That Nigerian model?”
“Ambria.” That relationship had lasted about two months, and was the rare event since Rosa in which Miguel wasnotdating a working woman. Not that kind of working woman, anyway. “How kind of you to remember her.”
“Before that it was Rosa.”
“Yes. It was Rosa.” What a low blow. Dolores was one of the few who knew the details to that relationship. Back when Miguel drunkenly thought he could confide in one of his closest family members.Fuck me for thinking she and I are that close.He had since learned his lesson. He loved his sisters, but Dolores was a pain in the fucking ass. There was a reason her name meant sorrows. “Now it’s Judith.”
“Should I tell Mama and Papa?” Dolores sneered. “I’m sure they would love to know you’re seriously dating someone again instead of fucking around with the models and charming burlesque dancers.”
“Now, now, that was only once.” When Miguel took one of his dates on parade right in front of Dolores on a date with husband Pierre. “I’m a man of more refined tastes now.” He rubbed Judith’s bare knee. “Judith is one sophisticated lady.”
“What is it that you do for a living, Ms. King?” Dolores propped her elbow on the table. “I’m eager to know.”
To her credit, Judith was quick to answer with a stock thought. “I help run a lounge near where Miguel lives now. So, businesswoman, I suppose you could say. I work for myself and always have.”
“Interesting. A lounge, you say? I take it that it’s quite fancy.”
“Quite. You could say it’s akin to this type of restaurant in terms of exclusivity.”
“Judith works in one of the finest American establishments I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting.” Miguel cleared his throat. “It’s where we met.”
