Biker Romance: Never Love an Exile (Exile Love Biker MC Series Book 3)

by Summers, Kara

Chapter Six

  Marie hadn’t made the decision to go to Mystique overnight. She had considered it for a long time and considered the implications of what she was about to do. At the end of the day, what she was considering was illegal as hell and no matter how she tried to spin it, she was breaking the law.

  She had stared at the little slate card for hours, considering her options. This seemed like the only one at the moment, if she was being quite honest. All of her attempts to find the type of man she wanted had ended in utter failure. That was the exact reason she finally decided to go.

  After she punched the address into her GPS, she backed out of the driveway and started toward the downtown area. She still couldn’t fathom how the owner of this brothel got away with hiding it in plain sight. Downtown was more than busy and it seemed like it would be hard to hide an escort service from the cops. Wouldn’t someone blab eventually?

  She had a lot of questions about Mystique but since they didn’t have a phone, she couldn’t call and ask. She’d have to find out herself. Her conversations with Rachel hadn’t really given her any answers either. Any time she asked about the club, Rachel told her she couldn’t answer any of the questions and instructed her to take the card with her. It was her key through the door, apparently.

  A place like that would have to have a pretty secure security system, she decided. Just letting anyone in would be a dumb move on their part. A place like Mystique would have to be secretive and mysterious like the name implied.

  Marie was surprised when the GPS led her to a small cafe. It had wrought iron tables and chairs outside with colorful umbrellas shading customers from the sun. There were several well cared for plants scattered about. A few birds fluttered around the tables and took off again. It was such a serene sight.

  This couldn’t be it. She’d expected some dark, shady building disguised as a massage parlor or something. This was absolutely beautiful. She looked up at the sign that hung above the door and was almost shocked that it read ‘Mystique’ in the same plain letters that had been embossed into the card that she’d tucked away in her back pocket.

  She parked around back and locked her car, looking around to see if this was some sort of trick. Marie took a breath and went around to the front door, pausing to take in the intricate, primal artwork that decorated the outer frame. It was stunning.

  When she pushed the door open a little bell rang, signaling her arrival. She was met immediately by a man in a flannel shirt and baker’s apron. The shirt was unbuttoned a bit and revealed his strong hairless chest.

  She nearly ran into him, jumping when he appeared before her. “Welcome!” he sang, his eyes bright.

  Marie’s head shot up, taking in this beautiful specimen of a man. He had olive skin and dark features. He looked Italian or Greek and had a bit of an accent. His black hair was trimmed short on the sides and the long hair up top was slicked back out of his face.

  He had wrinkles around his eyes and lips and was clearly in his thirties. His full lips and long lashes, however, distracted from any imperfections that were noticeable on his face. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing his strong hands and forearms that were dusted in a light powder that was most likely flour. He seemed to have been working on baked goods behind the counter before she’d arrived.

  The inside of the shop was rich in color. The walls were a lovely burnt orange and purple, with yellow and gold accents mixed in. In the back of the cafe there was a little reading nook that had a huge couch strewn with various silk pillows. The cafe was still empty since morning rush hadn’t hit yet.

  There were tables with books on them and no unnatural light. The huge windows in the front were enough to illuminate the small shop. There were lamps around the cafe but none had been lit yet. The morning sun radiated into the cafe and Marie’s eyes were drawn to the dessert case. Her eyes landed on some homemade caramels and she licked her lips without thinking.

  The man who had surprised her before, grinned and went to the case, motioning for her to follow. She did so without even thinking, settling on one of the stools. She could read the man’s name tag now. It said ‘Marco’.

  Marco offered her one of the caramels she’d been eyeing and smiled a kind smile, “You’ll enjoy this,” he whispered, his voice rough and more erotic than it should have been.

  She took the candy and placed it in her mouth, almost moaning at the way it melted on her tongue. Marie brought a hand to her lips and was about to thank Marco when she heard a woman’s voice behind her. The voice had a distinct African accent that was thick, melodious and filled the cafe.

  “Are you giving away my candies again, Marco?”

  Chapter Seven

  Marie spun around, her eyes wide. She gasped and shook her head, not wanting to get the beautiful man in trouble. “No, no! He wasn’t giving anything away! He was just letting me sample some before I bought them!” she explained, pulling her wallet out.

  When she did, the slate business card hit the floor with a soft ‘think’. Marie frowned and slipped off the stool, bending to pick it up. When she stood upright again, the dark skinned woman was right in front of her. It startled her and she jumped back.

  Now that the woman was close, she could make out her beautiful features. She had a delicate nose, thick lips and big, almond shaped brown eyes ringed in thick winged liner that gave her a cat-like appearance. Her skin was dark but almost had a golden hue to it, like she’d dusted gold powder all over her body before she left her house.

  Her sensual lips were painted a brilliant red and her face was decorated with what looked like traditional African designs. She was utterly beautiful. Her face wasn’t her only saving grace, either. She had ample breasts that were covered by a twisted red linen fabric that acted like a bikini of sorts. Her skirt was floor length and tied around her waist with care. It was a mix of the same colors that the shop had been painted in. She was stunning.

  The dark skinned woman’s eyes traveled to the slate card and she smiled, taking it from Marie. She started to argue but the woman held it up, speaking in that same thick accent that was so pleasing to Marie’s ears.

  “Who sent you here, love?” she asked, waving the card around.

  “Oh, just a friend,” she said softly, not sure she should tell them about Rachel.

  “Oh come, love. Don’t jerk my leg. I don’t have time for that, I have cakes in the oven. We only give these cards out to clients. They’re used to refer people to us,” she explained.

  Well, that seemed likely enough. Marie cleared her throat and ran a hand through her hair. This woman made her nervous, though she couldn’t place why exactly.

  “Her name is Rachel.”

  The woman’s face lit up “Ah, Rachel Patterson?” she asked excitedly, “Oh, she is one of our best clients. Such a lovely lady,” she mused, adjusting the beautiful, colored wrap on her head that hid her hair.

  She looked at Marie and put a hand on her slim hip, her bare stomach flat and as golden as the rest of her. “I’m guessing she didn’t send you here for candies?” she asked, cocking a brow, a mischievous smile on her face.

  Marie cleared her throat and shook her head slowly, “No. She sent me here for your other services,” she whispered, glancing around as if someone were watching.

  The woman looked around the room as well. “Who are you looking for?”

  “No one. I suppose I’m just nervous,” Marie admitted, wringing her hands.

  The woman smiled and offered her hand, “No need to be nervous, love. My name is Madame Osei,” she said, finally offering her name.

  Marie took the woman’s hand and shook it, glancing down to see if any of the gold dust had come off onto her own hand. Unfortunately, it had not.

  “I’m Marie Stevens.”

  “And why did Rachel send you to me?” she asked simply, crossing her arms over her chest, looking Marie up and down as if she were assessing her.

  Marie swallowed thickly, surprised at how intimidated thi
s young woman made her feel, “Well, my love life has been lacking.”

  “For how long?”

  “Thirty-nine years,” Marie said wryly.

  Madame Osei ‘s eyes widened and she made a face, “Oh, I see. A bad marriage? Does your husband know that you have come for these services?”

  “I’m divorced,” she said quickly.

  To Marie’s surprise, Madame Osei smiled and nodded her head, “Good for you. This life is far too short for bad sex.”

  Marie couldn’t help but laugh, nodding in agreement, “Well, that’s why I’m here, I suppose,” she said, looking around the room.

  Madame Osei nodded and glanced at the door she had come through, “You understand the nature of this business?” she asked, watching Marie with a stern gaze.

  Marie was impressed at how quickly this woman’s moods seemed to change. She nodded.

  “Then you understand that there are rules that will be followed. I have to keep my employees and my own welfare protected,” she explained.

  “Of course,” Marie said quickly.

  Marie understood that there was a lot of risk that went into a business like this. No one was going to take that much of a leap without having safeguards in place. Marie couldn’t imagine what those might be, but she was sure that they were thorough.

  Madame Osei nodded and stepped forward, putting a finger to Marie’s forehead, “If you break my trust, there will be a curse upon you, do you understand?”

  The threat made Marie shiver even though she wasn’t very religious. Madame Osei seemed to believe in it and that was all it took to make Marie nervous. She nodded in response to the threat and her eyes darted to Marco as Madame Osei addressed him.

  “I’m going to the back, Marco. Do you think you can handle things up here?”

  “Of course, Ma’am.”

  Madame Osei grinned at Marie and took a step back, “Follow me,” she said, her voice flowing back into the same sing-song tone she’d used before.

  Chapter Eight

  Marie was hesitant to follow Madame Osei but did so anyway. They walked through the back of the shop that led out to a separate building. She’d hardly noticed the abandoned looking warehouse next to the cafe.

  This was what she’d expected when Rachel had first handed the card over to her; a shady warehouse where she was probably going to be murdered. She was seconds away from turning and bolting when the heavy monstrosity of a door seemed to open on its own.

  Marie looked inside and was instantly impressed. The inside was nothing like the outside. Two handsome men were standing near the door, opening and closing it as needed.

  The building that the true Mystique was housed in was a dingy warehouse with windows tinted so dark you couldn’t see inside. For those who did make it inside the doors, there was a wonderful surprise waiting for them.

  The tall ceiling was decorated with various silks that hung down amongst intricate Middle Eastern and African tapestries. Despite the dark tint on the windows, sun flooded through and lit the room with natural light. The corners that the light couldn’t seem to reach were lit with candles that smelled of faraway lands and spices.

  When they first entered the room they were greeted by a large fountain that trickled with the clearest water, Marie had ever seen. As they got closer she noticed that the water smelled like roses.

  “One of my boys enjoys experimenting with oils and lotions. He puts oils in the water every day to make it smell so fragrant,” Madame explained with a smile.

  Marie nodded and tucked hair behind her ear, trying to stay calm. This was the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. There were gold accents everywhere and women in sheer harem pants, no top and veils were cleaning and adjusting the many foreign trinkets that were scattered throughout the room.

  The women were gorgeous and seemed to be every age from eighteen to fifty, and all of them had the confidence to run around naked. Marie envied them, honestly.

  Just past the fountain were a few lounging areas that held comfy looking pads big enough to hold four or five full grown people. They had pillows all around and curtains that could be pulled closed for privacy.

  “There are various ways to go about this. We don’t restrict our clients in what they can and cannot do. This is our common area where you can get to know the men and enjoy a meal with them. The food is on us, of course. You don’t pay for that. I have cooks, handmaids and other people willing to make your experience here one of a kind,” Madame explained, waving her hand as if to draw attention to the women.

  Marie nodded, feeling a little numb as she looked around. There was so much to look at, she was having a hard time taking it all in. Just as she began to feel overwhelmed, Madame Osei spoke again, “You will often hear people refer to my business as a service. To me, you aren’t paying for a service. You are paying for time,” she explained, “All of my men have various skills that are not limited to the bedroom. I have one who gives excellent massages, one who sings, another who enjoys the gardens. They’re all unique and have their talents. They are also gifted lovers, as you’d expect.”

  Marie blushed at the comment as she followed Madame Osei to a back room that was past the lounge areas. Madame Osei pulled back heavy curtains, allowing Marie to enter the long hallway. There was no natural lighting here. A strange, calming blue glow lit the completely black hall, indicating five doors on each side.

  Madame Osei began to walk down the hall, toward an eleventh door at the very end of the corridor. “When you pay for their time, you are not limited in what you may do with them as long as it is within the guidelines of our facility,” she said, stepping through the door at the end of the hall.

  “The guidelines?” Marie asked as they stepped into the room. This room was much brighter than the others. There were murals painted in a traditional African manner. The art was intricate and awe-inspiring. Marie couldn’t take her eyes off of it. There was a low table in the middle of the room with pillows spread out on either side.

  Madame Osei sat on the far side of the table and put her hands flat on the smooth wood, watching Marie. Every time she got that look in her eyes it made Marie nervous. She couldn’t help but feel as if she were being judged.

  “The guidelines will be explained to you before you leave today. That’s why we came back here,” she said, motioning to the room around her.

  Marie nodded and cleared her throat as Madame Osei leaned back a little, “But before we go any further, I want to know more about you. At Mystique we try and craft an experience that is tailored to each client. Everyone is different and everyone has their own life experiences. You will be given choices through the whole process, of course, but knowing who you are helps us steer you in the right direction.”

  Marie nodded and stared at her hands, trying to decide how much to tell Madame Osei. In the end, she told her everything. Madame Osei had a look that could kill and a stern voice, but Marie felt safe around her somehow. Marie told the woman everything about her life. Her upbringing, her divorce, her regrets, and her son. She didn’t sweep anything under the rug. If this experience was meant to be as therapeutic as Rachel led her to believe, then she needed Madame Osei to know everything.

  When Marie finished her sad story, she saw something that looked like understanding in Madame Osei’s eyes. The dark skinned woman smiled a little and turned to pull out a folder from a stack of papers behind her. She wrote Marie’s name at the top of the manila folder and slid it across the table with a pen.

  “Let’s get started.”

  Chapter Nine

  Marie looked down at the folder, unsure of how she felt about her name being on it. As if reading her mind, Madame Osei spoke up on the issue, “When and if you return, you’ll be given a code name that will go on all of your documents from here on out. What is in the folder is a non-disclosure agreement. You are legally agreeing that anything you see, hear or do doesn’t leave this building. If you fail to adhere to this agreement, you are liable to be taken t
o court and your contract with us will be terminated.”

  The confused look on Marie’s face made Madame Osei laugh, “I know what you’re thinking. How can I take you to court if I’m running an illegal business?” she mused.

  She’d guessed right. Marie was very confused as to why any of this was necessary in a business based on something highly illegal. Madame Osei leaned forward and smiled, “As far as the city knows, where an alternative therapy service, which isn’t entirely a lie,” she stated.

  Marie nodded and let Madame Osei continue, “Anyway, Mystique is a registered business. It’s just a little different than what we have listed on our forms at the county office.”

  Madame Osei flipped the folder open and pointed out the main points of the nondisclosure agreement. Marie signed where she was told to and Madame took the pen back, snapping the folder closed. “Very good. This also acts as our contract,” she said, pulling out a second folder.

  This one was pure black and the pages inside were white with simple font. She pushed it across the table and opened it for Marie, taking out the first page, making sure that Marie could see it clearly.

  “These are the guidelines we spoke about earlier.”

  Marie picked it up and read through the list, though Madame Osei stopped her, “Read them out loud, love. I want to make sure you understand and read every sentence.”

  After a moment, Marie’s eyes wandered back up to the top and she read out loud, “One. Silence. You will not speak of this place to anyone. You will be given three recommendation cards to use at your discretion. You may tell that person the nature of the business but nothing more.” That explained Rachel’s silence on the subject, “Two. Consent. All parties must consent to any and all activities. No one may touch you without your consent and you may not touch others without their consent. Your existence in this space does not mean you are consenting. Three. You may leave the premise to go on ‘dates’ but you are not allowed to take your escorts home or give them any of your personal contact information. Four. You may not pursue relationships with the escorts outside of this facility. Any contact made must be done within the facility and its owners. Five. Anyone who attempts to break these rules must be reported immediately, even if the accused is an escort or employee.” She finished reading the rules and set them down.