“Baron von Königsberg, Your Grace,” Vincent greeted as he reached our table, inclining his head in a subtle acknowledgment that managed to convey respect without subservience. “I trust you're enjoying your evening?”
“Splendidly,” Julius replied, gesturing at his nearly empty plate. “The chef has outdone himself tonight.”
“I'll be sure to relay your compliments,” Vincent said with a smile. “And you, Your Grace? Is everything to your satisfaction?”
“Absolument,” I said with a nod. There was something in Vincent's demeanor that I found instantly likable, a charismatic ease combined with sharp intelligence. In another life, he might have made an excellent diplomat. “Join us for a moment,” I found myself saying, gesturing to the empty chair at our table. “If you can spare the time.”
A flicker of surprise crossed Vincent's face, quickly replaced by a gracious smile. “I'd be honored, Your Grace. Just for a moment, though. I have other guests to attend to.”
He slid into the chair with practiced ease, settling himself comfortably but maintaining perfect posture. “I must commend you, Mr. Stone,” I said, lifting my glass in a small salute. “The Ranch exceeds all expectations.”
“That's very kind of you to say,” Vincent replied. “And please, call me Vincent.”
“Very well, Vincent.” I set my glass down, studying him. “Tell me, how does one come to run an establishment like this? I imagine it's not a career path one discusses with one's guidance counselor.”
Vincent's expression shifted, revealing a glimpse of something more authentic beneath his polished exterior. “Ibrahim and I met at several years ago at a cybersecurity conference in Dubai.” He glanced ata passing server, who immediately approached with a glass of what appeared to be sparkling water. “Thank you, Michael,” he said to the young man, who nodded and withdrew. “We discovered we shared similar visions about creating spaces where desire isn't shameful, where exploration is encouraged rather than suppressed.”
“And the business model evolved from there?” I asked, genuinely curious about the origins of this hidden kingdom of pleasure.
Vincent laughed, the sound warm and unexpectedly sincere. “Not immediately. We spent two years planning, researching similar establishments worldwide, identifying their shortcomings.” His eyes scanned the grounds with evident pride. “Most places prioritize either luxury or sexual freedom. We refused to compromise on either.”
“A noble ambition,” I commented, the irony of my choice of words not lost on me.
“Perhaps. But also a selfish one,” Vincent admitted with surprising candor. “I grew up in an environment where sexuality was something to be ashamed of. Ibrahim had similar experiences, though for different reasons.” He gestured toward a group of men laughing freely at a nearby table. “Every smile you see here feels like a personal victory.”
I found myself nodding, understanding more than he knew. “Sometimes personal victories are the only kind worth fighting for.”
“The Ranch represented an opportunity to create something truly unique, a place where discretion and pleasure could coexist without compromise.” He shrugged elegantly. “We found a few like-minded backers and five years later, here we are.”
“Impressive,” I acknowledged, genuinely meaning it. “From hacker to hospitality. Quite the evolution.”
Vincent's eyes flickered with amusement. “I prefer 'security specialist' to 'hacker,' Your Grace. Less legal implications.” He leaned forward slightly, his expression becoming more direct. “But enoughabout me.” Vincent set his glass down, his expression becoming more focused. “May I ask if you're finding what you need here at The Ranch? We pride ourselves on catering to our guests' specific... interests.”
The question, innocuous on the surface, carried deeper implications. I studied Vincent more carefully, noting the intelligence behind his charismatic facade. There was something unexpectedly authentic about him, a quality I rarely encountered in the choreographed interactions of diplomacy.
“I've been most pleased with the companions,” I said carefully, “particularly one who seems to understand intuitively what I require. It's rare to find someone who sees beyond the title to the man beneath.”
Vincent nodded, a flicker of something personal crossing his features. “There's profound liberation in being seen for who you are rather than what you represent, isn't there? Before creating this place, I spent years in environments where my value was measured solely by my usefulness.” His fingers tapped lightly on the table, a brief tell suggesting this conversation had shifted from professional to personal. “Connection is our true specialty here, Your Grace. The physical aspects are merely the beginning.”
“A beginning I've greatly appreciated,” I admitted, “but you're right. It's the moments of genuine interaction that have been most... refreshing.” I couldn't keep the edge from my voice as I added, “It will be difficult returning home after this, participating in the royal celebrations marking my father's thirty years on the throne, acting as the dutiful son while Remy drags the family through the mud yet again.”
I instantly regretted my words. It was one thing to open up to Julius. But spilling family drama to someone I barely knew… I blamed the whiskey and the unexpected comfort of Vincent's presence. “I shouldn't have said that,” I murmured, setting the glass down.
A flicker of sympathy crossed Vincent's face. “Family obligations can be... challenging. Especially when they conflict with personal authenticity.”
“That's putting it mildly,” Julius interjected. “If you ask me, Ricard here would have made the better heir. More responsibility in his little finger than Remy has in his entire privileged body.”
I shook my head, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “I don't think so, Julius. I'd never be loved as Remy is, despite his scandals. The people adore him—his openness, his charm, his beautiful wife and children.” I gestured vaguely. “And then there's the whole gay thing. Quite the complication for a potential monarch.”
“Times are changing,” Vincent observed. “Even for monarchies.”
“Some faster than others,” I replied with a wry smile. “Avaline prides itself on being progressive, but the royal family remains stubbornly traditional. My father still refers to my 'lifestyle choice' when he's had too much brandy.”
Vincent's expression remained neutral, but something in his eyes, a flash of understanding, perhaps, made me wonder about his own story. Before I could contemplate it further, he spoke again. “Well, Your Grace, please know that you're always welcome here when you need an escape from your royal duties. The Ranch is at your disposal.” He rose smoothly from his chair. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I should continue my rounds.”
“Of course,” I said, inclining my head slightly. “Thank you for joining us.”
After Vincent departed, Julius and I finished our meal in companionable conversation. By the time we'd ordered coffee and declined dessert, the restaurant had emptied considerably.
