My apartment was divided into two different loft spaces. The side that held my studio was slightly elevated. Genevieve walked around, lightly caressing the chunks of marble and heavy tools strewn about. Busts and marble carvings of nude women, some complete, some still in progress were scattered around us. She inspected it all with curiosity and a slight sense of authority, asking pointed, intelligent questions about my work.
Pearl and I followed her around like a couple of puppy dogs, inhaling her heavenly perfume, answering every question eagerly.
I loved the female form, and most of my carvings and sculptures were just that. Women in all their glorious forms, formed out of clay or marble - two completely different mediums. I was in love with them both, and had yet to be able to turn away from one for the other.
I felt my stuff was good, but as an artist, you are constantly plagued with self-doubt and a nagging voice telling you that the work you are producing is actually dreadful. I was humble, but sculpting was my nirvana, my peaceful, happy place, and so I kept doing it - mostly for me. A small part of me wanted to be successful and show my father that he was wrong, but I did it because I loved it.
Sharing it with others had always proven to be the hardest part about it, but by the time Genevieve had seen all my stuff, while slightly embarrassed, I felt on top of the world. She built me up so high, I felt like I was floating on the ceilings of my loft.
“Do you have any friends?” she asked.
“No,” I replied quietly. “Well, only Pearl.”
It had been one of my worst regrets of the last few years. I had a few friends in college but after graduation we had all drifted in different directions and I had become more and more isolated, only seeing my family every now and then.
“That’s what you need, mon mimi! Other women! To lean on for support, to help you laugh through everything you are going through with your father. A woman is naked without her own group of women to rely on. You need that, darling. Your sculptures are crying out for it!”
“Well, you might be right.” I knew she was right. I missed female companionship desperately.
I had a few boyfriends the last few years, but nobody ever stuck around for long. Either they already knew who my father was, and that’s why they wanted to go out with me - or they found out afterwards, and that was enough to chase anyone away.
No wonder I isolated myself and did nothing but shop and sculpt all the time.
Alone was comfortable.
But Genevieve saw more in me.
“Vanessa, I’m not kidding,” she had said that night. “I see you in the finest art houses in Los Angeles in six months. You’ll be the darling of the L.A. art scene. Stick with me, mon petite mimi, and I will introduce you to just the right people to make it all happen.”
And I believed her. How could I not when she was flashing those eyes and smiling at me like she had known me all my life?
And it wasn’t just me she had cast her spell on. The other ladies were just as enthralled with her as I was. It was impossible not to be.
Dakota Starling, Bobbie Fox, and Veronica Valentino obviously adored her. And she them. Like I said, it was a sisterhood. Thick as thieves, we were all fiercely loyal to her. Luckily for me, they had taken me into the fold immediately. And they fell in love with Pearl. She had never been so spoiled.
Dakota was a tall blonde with a perfect yoga body. Born and bred in Savannah, Georgia, she was raised to be a proper Southern belle. A debutante as a teen, she grew up on an old sugar plantation with her parents, her family having lived there for hundreds of years. When she was 18, there was an electrical fire and the house burned to the ground, killing everyone inside, her parents included. Dakota had been out on a date, making out in the back of the star quarterback’s pick-up truck ten miles away. With no home and no parents, she took her surprisingly small inheritance and moved to L.A. alone and afraid. After a year of floating around, she met Genevieve in a nightclub. She was the first girl Genevieve hired, and she had been working for her for three years now.
Bobbie was a tomboy from Austin, Texas, with legs that stretched for miles and short, black hair that was cut into the cutest pixie cut I had ever seen. Unless she was on a date, you wouldn’t find her wearing anything but jeans and a t-shirt. But when she dressed up for work, she was drop-dead, make-your-mouth-fall-open gorgeous! She escaped from her abusive family when she was thirteen and had somehow made it on the streets for ten years before Genevieve found her two years ago stumbling awkwardly through failing at her first day as a waitress at a coffee shop.
Veronica was the exotic one. Her silky, olive skin practically sparkled, and her thick, dark hair swung in heavy waves down her back. Somehow she managed to be voluptuous and petite all at the same time, leaving not a head unturned as she sashayed down the streets of Rodeo Drive, which was not an easy feat. Los Angeles was full of beautiful people, and a pretty girl was a dime a dozen. But Veronica could pull it off. And she knew it. And she also loved it. Confidence dripped from her and her sassy attitude was her most endearing feature. She grew up in East L.A. and had escaped from a family of gang members. She met Genevieve in a doctor’s office waiting room when she was only 18. Genevieve got her cleaned up, off the street and working for her. It was a far cry from where she grew up.
I fell in love with all of them.
If the job got a little challenging, it was okay. Because I knew I had them to talk to about it.
We all trusted Genevieve completely. We knew she would never put us in danger, and so far, nothing terrible had happened to any of us.
She had saved us all, in one way or another. And I suspected that in some way, we had also saved her.
CHAPTER THREE
The dates weren’t as bad as one might think.
Genevieve explained early on that it was our choice who we went out with. It’s our choice what we do on those dates. If the client wanted more than we were comfortable with, we graciously refused. Either way, we still got paid and more than handsomely.
When I first realized what the job being offered to me entailed, I balked. But after listening to Genevieve and the girls, and realizing that I would, in fact, be the one in charge of whatever direction the date headed and still get a fat envelope of cash at the end of the night, I became more and more comfortable.
Sure, I never expected to end up being essentially a high-class call girl, but I was able to spend one or two nights a week spending time with a classy gentleman and being treated like a princess, taken out to the finest restaurants, plays, and whatever other engagements Genevieve’s ‘friends’ (as she was fond of calling them) needed to attend with a beautiful woman by their side. It was always a good time.
They would pay me, and I would go home and sculpt.
Sure, so far there had been a few boring business dinners I had been asked to endure, but receiving ten thousand dollars - yes, ten! - at the end of the night made it all worth it. It certainly made it more exciting.
Tonight, I was being picked up by a limo and driven to meet a handsome oil barren that was in town from Texas. I had seen pictures of him, but tonight would be the first time I had met him in person. Most of Genevieve’s friends were handsome and rich, the kind of men who didn’t have time for conventional relationships and also happened to possess obscene amounts of disposable income that they didn’t think anything of spending a tiny portion of it on a gorgeous, engaging companion for the evening.
Sometimes, the clients wanted sex, but a lot of the time, it was all for appearances. Perhaps they had a client they were trying to impress. Or, maybe they were trying to prove something to a colleague or make another woman jealous. Whatever it was they needed, if we were comfortable with providing it, and the price was right, then we were committed to making them happy, but completely within our own boundaries.
So we weren’t selling sex, we were selling companionship.
And, tonight, it just so happened that I received a free dinner at Scarpetta, one of the
fanciest restaurants in Beverly Hills and a handsome sum in exchange for that companionship.
It all made perfect sense to me.
After going on dozens of dates for Genevieve, I had only had sex with three men so far. And nobody else had complained. In fact, it hadn’t even really come up that often. Every guy I said no to had been completely respectful. Men with that amount of money know they can get sex easily by other means, most of them have women throwing themselves at their feet, but they hired us for other reasons.
We weren’t unpredictable. While we were indeed going out with them for their money, we didn’t have any interest in marrying them and then taking half of their fortunes in an ugly divorce. We wouldn’t embarrass them with emotional outbursts at an important business dinner, nor would we saddle them with an unexpected pregnancy and derail their perfectly planned careers.
I could definitely see the appeal for them. And that’s why I was happy to provide the service.
The hard part was keeping yourself in shape, maintained and perfectly manicured. I was used to it, but girls like Bobbie were constantly complaining about all of the waxing, exfoliating, hair dying and nail polishing involved. She had no problem keeping in shape, spending her free nights at the park playing basketball and running religiously every single morning. But for Dakota, exercise wasn’t high on her list of priorities. Luckily for her, she seemed to be able to devour entire pints of ice cream and never gain an ounce.
We all had our challenges.
I spent hours getting ready for this date. I was expected to look and dress perfectly, and since that is what my date was paying for, that was what he would get.
I had spent the morning at the salon getting my hair and nails done. Three mornings ago had been spent enduring the painful process of having my entire body waxed by a tiny Japanese lady that all the girls swore by. Before working for Genevieve, that was one task I had taken on myself, but Genevieve and the girls had insisted I have it done by a professional. There was a huge difference between being completely hair-free and my usual maintenance. It was something that definitely took some getting used to.
The only addition to my wardrobe that was necessary was some extra-lacy lingerie and a few pairs of sexy new heels. While I owned lots of fancy dresses and shoes, I tended to lean towards jeans and my beloved leather boots. These days, my dates almost all required nice dresses and heels. It made me appreciate my comfortable boots even more.
I didn’t just like nice things - I liked comfortable nice things. The beauty over comfort philosophy had always baffled me.
Today was one of those days. As I slid my body into a slinky, bright red, wrap-around dress that hugged the curves of my hips perfectly, I found myself feeling for the first time that this felt like work. After inspecting myself in the mirror, I removed my lacey panties, hating the panty line they were creating.
While I loved the fancy dinners and nightlife, I would much rather have a nice night at Genevieve’s watching a movie and drinking wine with the girls in my comfortable boots and not these stiletto heels I was squeezing my feet into.
When I was done putting on my makeup and jewelry, I stared at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. My shoulder-length, platinum blonde hair was full and wavy, and much blonder than I usually wore it. With my bright red lipstick and tall heels, my look was a little reminiscent of a glamorous Marilyn Monroe. I had never been a small, petite girl - my figure was more on the voluptuous and full-figured side. I loved my curves and as I gazed at my reflection, I felt an enormous sense of appreciation for them. I loved being a woman.
Pearl had been watching me all night, but once I began spritzing my signature Chanel No. 5 all over me, she bolted from the room. Once again, I wondered what Genevieve’s mystery fragrance was. I had asked the girls one day and later Genevieve herself, but found that was one thing she was vague about. She told us she had it custom made and shipped over from France, but she wouldn’t reveal the ingredients, claiming it was her signature scent and she didn’t want anyone copying it.
As I sipped a glass of wine, I began feeling a tinge of excitement for the date. So far, I had enjoyed the company of all the men I had seen, and I was sure tonight wouldn’t be any different. Genevieve’s friends were all very dynamic people.
The buzzer sounded through my apartment, and I hurried to the intercom by my front door to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Charles here, ma’am.”
“Hi, Charles! I’ll be right down, thank you!”
Charles was also employed by Genevieve. Chauffeur and incognito bodyguard, he was a valuable part of our company. He was discrete and knowledgeable, and his huge stature was an imposing force. Having him drop us off at our dates was a subtle message to the clients.
I quickly gathered my handbag, stuffed it with my phone, wallet, lipstick, breath mints and condoms, grabbed my keys, turned off the stereo and lights and gave Pearl a kiss before I locked the door and ran down the two flights of stairs to the street.
It was already dark out and the black sheen of the limo shimmered under the street lights. Charles stood by the door waiting patiently.
“Evening, miss.” He was a man of few words but the warmth of his smile and the sparkle in his green eyes had a way of making you feel at ease and secure.
I reached up and kissed his cheek.
“Hi, Charles! It’s great to see you again.”
“You too, miss. You too.”
He opened the door of the limo for me and I slid inside. The smell of leather permeated the air, and when the door closed behind me, I relaxed into the buttery soft seats. As always, classical music poured through the speakers and a full bar sparkled in front of me.
The ride to the restaurant would take about fifteen minutes, so I poured myself a short glass of bourbon, added two ice cubes, and sipped slowly as I watched the city fly by outside of the tinted windows. I loved the fact that I could see out but nobody could see in.
As we pulled up to the restaurant, I quickly finished my drink and checked my lipstick and hair. My red lipstick was bright, but it matched my dress and nails perfectly. I popped a mint in my mouth and closed my purse right before Charles opened the door for me.
Smiling, I exited the limo legs first, clutching Charles’ outstretched hand and pulling myself up to my full height. I looked up at Charles and smiled.
“Thank you for the ride, Charles.”
“Of course, miss. Call me if you need me, or if you need a ride home later. Otherwise, I will see you next time. Have a wonderful evening, miss.”
“You do the same, Charles.”
I turned and saw my date smiling and watching me from the front steps. He was even more handsome in person. Since we had both seen pictures of each other, there was no awkward exchanges with someone who might not be who we were there to meet.
We walked toward each other with polite smiles stretched across our faces. His name was Drake Daniels, and we were meeting up with several of his clients.
He was certainly gorgeous, there was no doubt about that. As we exchanged introductions and small talk, I drank in his tall, blonde handsome frame.
“Genevieve has nothing but good things to say about you, Vanessa. And I must say you are even more beautiful in person. I’m confident you are the right lovely lady for tonight. I am trying to convince my clients to invest a very large sum of money into my oil refinery business and I need to project a very put-together image. Having a beauty such as you on my arm will no doubt sky-rocket my chances of obtaining their small fortune.”
He was charming, too. What a bonus.
“Well, I’m glad I can help. Is there anything I should know before we go in?”
“No, not at all. Just be beautiful and pleasant and follow my lead.”
“Of course, Drake. Thank you for inviting me.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” He reached out and brought my hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss right above my knuckles.
>
I smiled demurely, feeling a quiver in my stomach at such a gentlemanly gesture. He was lovely.
“Shall we go in?” he asked.
“Yes, let’s.” I smiled up at him, and allowed him to tuck my arm into the crook of his elbow and we turned, ascended the steps and began walking towards the warmly lit building.
The doors opened in front of us and we walked in.
After Drake checked in with the host, we were led to our seats. I wasn’t surprised that Drake would require the best seats in the house.
He definitely seemed to have a handle on what he wanted out of life, and he couldn’t have been much older than me at all. But it wasn’t his youth that made him attractive. Clearly, he was intensely driven by his career and there was something irresistible about men like that. I had always been attracted to men who knew what they wanted, and even more so, the ones who knew how to get it.
Looking at Drake now, as he greeted his colleagues before turning to introduce me, I wondered how things would have worked out if I had met him under different circumstances.
“Vanessa, this is James Morgan and Eileen Morgan.”
“Lovely to meet you both.” I shook their hands and smiled warmly at them.
“You too, Vanessa.” James took my hand, pressing his lips to the back of my palm.
“What a lovely couple you two make!” Eileen said. “How long have you two been dating?”
“Thank you, Eileen. We only recently begun to spend time together,” Drake winked and smiled at her, charm oozing from him. “So, let’s not talk about it, so we don’t ruin the honeymoon phase!”
Everyone laughed politely, and Drake gently took my arm, guiding me to my chair and holding it out for me. I sat down and he sat next to me.
“I am starved!” he exclaimed with a smile.
Drake reached for my hand and intertwined his fingers in mine.
His hand was hot and pulsing against my palm. I crossed my legs, surprised by a faint twinge of arousal. It had been a while since someone had held my hand like that. Like a man. Like my lover.
RECKLESS AND WILD: MOTORCYCLE CLUB ROMANCE BOX SET Page 19