June (Calendar Girl #6) (3 page)

I looked around the room and honestly, I was shocked by the number of men over fifty dressed in fancy suits with women young enough to be their daughters—possibly even their granddaughters—on their arm. Stealthily, I pulled out my phone and took a snapshot of the giant room, patrons included. We were at a local fundraiser for one of Warren’s “friends”. I use the term lightly because as Warren admitted, very few folks in the One Percent were actually friends with one another. That friendship only extended as far as the next business deal. If the deal didn’t bring them closer to a goal, or make them a bucketload of cash, that relationship no longer had any value. No longer good pals. Honestly, it sickened me, but I was being paid to be here. Hypocrisy was something I was working on.

To: Skank-a-lot-a-puss

From: Mia Saunders

Caption this?

From: Skank-a-lot-a-puss

To: Mia Saunders

Easy! It’s bring your daughter to work day on Capitol Hill!

I almost lost it. The laugher bubbled up so fast, I ended up choking on the champagne I was sipping forcing me to wobble on my stilettos. God, I loved that woman.

“Careful there,” an older gentleman clasped me around the bicep and held me up. “That’s the good stuff you’re choking on. I guess there are worse ways to go than to choke to death on five hundred dollar champagne.” He chuckled as my eyes watered. I ended up spraying the liquid still in my mouth across the plant in front of me. I hacked and coughed, trying to get my bearings. A waiter walked by at that moment with glasses of water. The grey-haired old man stole one and handed it to me. I slugged it back gratefully, clearing out the champagne that had gone down the wrong pipe.

“I’m so sorry.” I cleared my throat and put my lip out, giving my best pout.

The man, who must have been at least sixty-five or seventy, shook his head and petted my cheek like I was a favored pet. “No worries, little girl. Who’s your Daddy?” One minute he was grandfatherly old guy and the next, a true predator.

Without realizing it, my eyebrows narrowed. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Don’t be dense. Who takes care of you?” He licked his dry, cracked lips. The old man breathed with his mouth open and the stench of cigars and liquor wafted over me. I cringed, gulping back the need to vomit.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. “I believe you have found something that belongs to me.” Warren Shipley’s face twisted into a scowl, his eyes were hard as stones as he took in the man’s hand holding onto my arm.

“Warren, I didn’t know you’d finally taken a lamb.” The man grinned, and his eyes traced wantonly over my curves. “And what a perfect little pet. Do you share her?” His tone was smarmy. Holding down that vomit was getting harder by the second.

Warren laughed out loud. A full-bellied laugh that could be heard far and wide. “’Fraid not, old friend. Bit selfish in my old age, Arthur.”

Arthur let go of my bicep. Instinctively, I rubbed at the spot. Warren clocked the move and his jaw tightened. He came over and put his hand lightly around my waist. “This is Mia, under my care. Mia, Arthur Broughton.” Warren squeezed my waist, and I held out my hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Broughton.” I cuddled up to Warren for good measure. He held me closer, his body a pillar of strength, firm and standing tall. A strength that belied his years.

Warren leaned down and kissed my temple. “Mia, you look parched. Go on ahead and get a drink. I’ll be there in a moment.” I nodded and he tapped my ass lightly. You couldn’t really say it was in a good-game-type way like Mason, my old client and friend did with his major league baseball buddies, or me, for that matter. It was more coddling. At least he didn’t grope like some of these men did.

I made my way through the veritable buffet of old dudes with tight, pretty, young female bodies clinging to their arms. I could almost imagine the tiny manacles holding the women close, making sure they were never far from the men’s wallets. Gross.

The bartender offered me a new glass of champagne. I pounded it, set the glass down, and asked for another.

“Easy tiger, you don’t want to be falling down drunk and ruin Father’s image,” Aaron said as he settled onto the stool next to mine.

I shook my head and pursed my lips. “I don’t get what I’m here for.”

“You’re already doing it. Looking good, showing these old timers that Father is one of them. See how he’s talking animatedly with Arthur Broughton?”

I cringed at the name of the guy who had gripped my arm. “Yeah.”

Aaron nodded toward the duo. “He owns the ports Father wants to take the meds through. He has the port authority in each country he serves in his back pocket. Father needs that guy in order to park his ships.”

Exhaling, I pushed out my chest and adjusted my shoulders. “But why? What he’s doing is good, kind, and humanitarian.”

Aaron chuckled. “It is, but it doesn’t make any money, and it’s dangerous to take Americans into these countries and set up medical facilities. And I use the term ‘facility’ lightly. They’re more of a bunker-tent-type situation. It’s only one step. That’s
if
he gets Arthur to agree to allow the ships to come in and out, and lose that revenue in trade plus manpower for the cause. Not an easy feat. He also has to get the freighter company, the doctors, missionaries, armed forces for protection, et cetera. There’s a lot more at stake than you think.”

Wow. Warren really was a modern day superhero. Taking medicine to third world countries, taking dangerous risks for the good of mankind. It’s extremely powerful, and for once, I felt really good about being with this client.

“So, how can I help?”

Aaron lifted a hand and petted my cheek with his thumb. “You can relax. Being here, you’re making him one of the big boys with his pretty toy.” I’m certain my eyes blazed white-hot fire when he said that because Aaron laughed and quickly responded. “Not that we think you’re a toy. Jeez. Touchy one.”

I rolled my eyes and huffed. “Sorry. Maybe I am a little off my game. This is different than what I’m used to.”

He leaned a bit closer, enough that I could smell the sweet notes of apples and expensive leather from his cologne. “And what are you used to?” His tone was alluring and spoke directly to the woman in me.

Tipping a bare shoulder and looking over it, I batted my eyelashes. “It’s different for everyone.”

“Is that right? And if I wanted to test the waters of
different
while you’re here…would that be something you are interested in? With me, not my father.”

I pinched my lips and inhaled audibly. Tipping my head, I looked directly into his chocolate eyes. This man was not shy. Desire, lust, want, and greed softly traced every inch of my skin at the way he looked at me. Shivers of excitement rippled from my chest to rest heavily between my legs. He moved his hand to my knee, making slow circles over the bare skin. That excitement I’d felt mere seconds ago, was turning into a swirling pot of nervous energy. Anticipation was a fun game the debonair Aaron Shipley seemed to enjoy playing. He was definitely stellar at the art of seduction. I was seduced…big time.

Before I got completely lost and leaned forward and took a bite out of what I now had a burning need to sink my teeth into, Warren came back. A huge smile lit his slightly wrinkled face.

He clapped his hands. “Champagne, good man. We have reason to celebrate!” He announced. The bartender handed him a glass of the bubbly.

“Is that so, Father? Do tell. The anticipation“—his eyes flicked to mine, a heated look still burning bright—“is positively stifling.”

Warren spent the next half hour breaking down the agreement he’d come to with Arthur Broughton about the ports. Turned out that Arthur needed a solid charitable write-off and the positive press for his company. He’d been dealing with some bad media about his trades with Asia. News that he would be offering his ports to import medical necessities, supplies, and professionals to countries in dire need of Western medicine was a good business decision and one he couldn’t afford to pass up.

“Thank you, Mia. You’re already helping me get where I need to be with the program.”

I turned my head and frowned. “How do you figure? I didn’t do anything.”

“On the contrary. Arthur had been avoiding me because he thought I had an issue with another business deal he was making with a competitor of Shipley, Inc., which is completely apocryphal.” Aaron nodded. I pretended I knew what apocryphal meant, but gathered it likely had to do with something being false or untrue. “You gave me a perfect road to open conversation with him. We spoke of you momentarily then moved right into business matters. Worked like a charm.” He smiled wide and drank the rest of his champagne.

There was really nothing more I could say. This entire scenario was outside my comfort zone. Rolling with the punches would be my only option. I held up my glass in a mock cheers. “Glad I could help then.” I laughed and finished off my drink before we took our leave.

The night had been long and the conversations boring. A few weeks of this was going to be as dull as the historical section of a local library. It was going to be full of nothing but old men, business deals, and gold-digging skanks. I needed to figure out a way to be more helpful.

I pondered that very question while I walked through the vast, dark halls of the mansion later that night in search of the kitchen. A soft light shined at the end of one stretch of hallway. Art and sculptures from different centuries were displayed every ten feet. The house felt more like a museum of art than a home. There were no snapshots or photographs of the family donning the walls. No memorabilia that I could attribute to Aaron’s youth. There were just stodgy antiques and pricey artifacts that didn’t seem to have any personal value. They were clearly relics of times forgotten by the house’s inhabitants or just used for opulent decoration. It made me sad because some of these pieces were true gems. They should be elevated and highlighted not placed to fill space in a vast and mostly empty mansion.

The hall ended up leading to a lavish, grand kitchen. Stainless steel appliances, four glass doors that you could see through. One set of doors had milk, cheese, fruit, and veggies. The normal suspects you’d see in a fridge. The other set had fresh flowers of all varieties.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” came a lilting voice from my side. I turned and found the house manager, Kathleen.

I smiled and waved. “Couldn’t sleep. I haven’t really adjusted to the time change yet.”

She entered the room, went over to the cabinets and pulled down a couple plates. “Would you like a sandwich?”

My mouth watered. “Boy, do I ever. I’ve only eaten gourmet foods the last two days. A plain old turkey and cheese would be heavenly.”

Kathleen smiled softly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Every couple moments her blue eyes would glance my way. With practiced ease, she made us both a sandwich. Still, she didn’t say a word, but I could tell something was on her mind.

“You know, you can ask me anything. I’ll answer honestly. I’m getting the feeling you don’t know why I’m here.”

She shook her head, crossed her hands over her robe-clad chest, and dropped her gaze.

“I’m an escort; Warren hired me.” I answered honestly.

Kathleen’s eyes went as wide as an endless blue sky. Her hand went to her heart and she braced herself on the butcher-block counter. “I see.”

I couldn’t help myself. She obviously had something going with the Senior Shipley. “It’s not what you think…” I started but she backed up until her bum hit the fridge.

“Doesn’t matter what I think. I’m uh…I’m just the help.” Her eyebrows narrowed and she whispered again, “I’m just the help.”

Leaning a hip against the counter, I waited until she looked at me. Tears pooled in her eyes, and it broke my heart. “I’m not sleeping with him. It isn’t like that.”

Her head snapped back. “But you’re an escort. You just said—”

I cut her off. “I said I was an escort. Hired to attend functions with him, as his personal arm candy. Not his bedmate; it seems he already has that part covered.” I smiled and she blushed.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Kathleen grabbed the lapels of her robe and covered more of her chest, even though not even a speck of skin was visible.

“Sure you do.” It was becoming very clear to me. On top of the table sat the two sandwiches she made. One was twice the size of the other. Uh huh. “Who’s the sandwich for?”

Again, those sweet cheeks of hers turned a nice shade of rose. “I’m quite hungry.”

“Yeah, I’m hungry after a round of great sex, too. Go take your man his sandwich. Your secret is safe with me.” I grabbed the plate with the smaller sandwich and turned to go back to my room. Late night TV was calling my name.

“Mia, he doesn’t want anyone to know. It would hurt him.”

That got my attention, and I spun around on a toe. “Hurt him? How?”

Her shoulders sagged. “I raised Aaron after his mother died. He wouldn’t understand. His father and I agreed not to tell him.” She rotated her neck on her shoulders, but they still dropped down. “Besides, I’m not a woman of wealth. All the men in business have wives that are in the life. I’m a nobody.”

I reached out a hand to her, but she backed away. “It’s fine. I chose this. If I wasn’t madly in love with him, I’d have left already. It’s better that I have him under the cover of night than not at all.” Of course, I disagreed wholeheartedly but when I started to reply, she clasped my arm and got close. “Thank you for your concern, but you don’t know either of us. We’d appreciate your discretion in this matter.”

She waited while I stood there not certain what to say. “If that’s what you want,” I finally said.

“It is. Thank you. We’ll visit in the morning. Mr. Shipley notified me he has a list of events that he plans to take you to. I’m glad I know why you’re here. Thank you for your honestly, Mia. It is a refreshing trait around these parts.” Her lips formed that small smile I’d seen in the office when I met her yesterday, and now twice this evening. I had to admit, it worked at keeping me calm. She left me standing there with my sandwich and a potential side project. Of course, I needed to find out if Warren felt the same about the lovely housekeeper as she did about him. I’d also have to feel Aaron out as to his thoughts about Kathleen and their history.