I thanked him and moved toward Vincent's office, my heart beating a rapid tattoo against my ribs. I pushed open the door to find Vincent seated behind an imposing desk, his attention focused on a computer screen. He looked up as I entered, surprise registering briefly before his professional demeanor reasserted itself.
“Your Grace,” he greeted me, rising from his seat. “This is an unexpected pleasure. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I'd like permission to have Theo assigned to me for the remainder of my stay,” I said without preamble, closing the door behind me. “Surely that can be arranged.”
Vincent's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted, a subtle tensing that suggested discomfort. “I understand, Your Grace. However, I must remind you of our policy regarding consecutive bookings with the same companion. It's in place for—”
“I'm aware of the policy,” I interrupted, moving further into the room. “But surely exceptions can be made.”
Vincent gestured for me to take a seat across from his desk, resuming his own seat only after I was settled. “I'm afraid not, Your Grace. The policy exists for good reasons; to protect both our companions and our clients.”
“Protect them from what, exactly?” I challenged, leaning forward. “Theo and I have a connection. We enjoy each other's company. What harm is there in allowing us another evening together before I leave?”
Vincent's expression softened, a hint of understanding in his eyes that I found oddly patronizing. “The harm, Your Grace, is in the blurring of lines between fantasy and reality. Our companions are trained to provide an exceptional experience, to make every client feel special, desired, understood. It's what we excel at. But it's also a curated experience, a fantasy.”
His words hit me with the force of a physical blow, each one a pin to the balloon of hope I'd been nurturing. A curated experience. A fantasy. Was that all this had been? Had I fooled myself into seeing something more in Theo's eyes, in his touch, in the way he responded to me?
“I understand your skepticism,” Vincent continued, misreading my silence. “But consider our companions' well-being as well. They form attachments easily. It's part of what makes them good at their jobs. The two-day rule helps prevent those attachments from becoming... problematic.”
Attachments. I latched onto the word like a drowning man to a life preserver. “So you're saying Theo might have formed an attachment to me?”
Vincent studied me thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. “I'm saying it's a possibility we try to manage for all our companions. The nature of the work can blur professional and personal boundaries if we're not careful.” He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. “May I speak frankly, Your Grace?”
“Please do,” I said, grateful for any insight he might offer.
“I've been in this business for many years,” Vincent began, his tone measured. “I've seen countless connections form between clients and companions—some genuine, some illusory. The difficulty lies in distinguishing between the two, especially in an environment designed to foster intimacy.”
He paused, seeming to choose his next words carefully. “Theo is... special. He possesses a rare authenticity that makes him particularly vulnerable in this line of work. His background—”
“His brother,” I supplied, remembering what Theo had shared.
Vincent nodded, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. “Yes. His devotion to his brother is admirable, but it also makes him susceptibleto forming deep attachments quickly. He sees the best in people, wants to help them, often at his own expense.”
The assessment aligned with what I'd observed in Theo, and it only made me want to protect him more fiercely. “I have no intention of hurting him,” I said firmly.
“I believe you,” Vincent replied, surprising me with his sincerity. “But intentions and outcomes don't always align, especially when complicated by vastly different life circumstances.”
He was right, of course. What future could there possibly be for a European duke and a companion from a small town in Florida? The very idea was absurd, a fairy tale with no basis in reality.
And yet, the thought of walking away from Theo, of never seeing him again, felt like a physical pain in my chest.
“What if I extended my stay?” I asked suddenly, the idea taking shape as I spoke it. “Another week. Would that change things?”
Vincent's eyebrows rose, the only outward indication of his surprise. “You wish to extend your reservation?”
“Yes. I find I'm not ready to return to Avaline just yet.”Not ready to leave Theo,was what I meant, but I kept that to myself.
“I see.” Vincent turned to his computer, typing briefly. “As it happens, your villa is available for the coming week. But may I ask what this has to do with your request regarding Theo?”
“If I'm staying longer, the consecutive booking policy becomes less relevant,” I pointed out, a hint of triumph in my voice. “I could see him again in a few days, after the required separation.”
Vincent studied me for a long moment, his expression now unreadable. Then he nodded slowly. “That would be within our guidelines, yes. Though I must caution you, Your Grace, about the nature of these types of... connections.”
“Meaning?” I prompted, a defensive edge creeping intomy tone.
“Meaning that what happens at The Ranch is designed to stay at The Ranch. Our companions excel at creating memorable experiences, moments of genuine connection that feel real because they are real in the moment. But they are also professionals, and this is their workplace.”
I bristled at the implication. “I'm not under any illusions about the nature of the establishment, Mr. Stone.”
