“Indeed,” Vincent agreed, guiding me across the marble floors of the opulent lobby. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, casting everything in a warm, golden glow that seemed to enhance the sense of fantasy. “Our main clubhouse houses several restaurants, a sports bar, and a media library. But that's just the beginning.”
We passed a row of bronze elevator doors that reflected our distorted silhouettes. “These lead to our luxury suites for guests who prefer to stay close to the action,” Vincent explained with a subtle emphasis that made clear what he meant. “But you requested privacy, so we've prepared a secluded villa according to your specific preferences.”
As we stepped outside onto a covered patio, the heat enveloped us immediately, though mitigated by a gentle breeze. Vincent led me down a winding path bordered by lush landscaping.
“Everything here is designed with intention,” Vincent said, pride clear in his voice. “Our fitness center rivals any Olympic training facility. The equestrian center offers both recreational riding and more... creative uses of our stables.” He nodded toward a cluster of elegant massage huts nestled near a shimmering pool. “Each space caters to unique desires while maintaining absolute discretion, if that is your preference.”
As we continued our tour, I caught glimpses of familiar faces—a renowned actor sprawled naked on a lounger, his skin glistening with oil. A famous tech CEO receiving oral pleasure from a young redhead while casually sipping champagne. The realization that I shared this secret sanctuary with men of such influence sent a thrill of excitement through me.
The scent of sunscreen, chlorine, and subtle notes of expensive cologne surrounded us. Ice clinked against glass as laughter rippled across the pool area. The sensations bombarded me: the heat of the midday sun on my shoulders, the brush of my cotton shirt against suddenly sensitive skin, the gentle pressure of Vincent's hand occasionally guiding me forward. Every nerve ending seemed to awaken after years of dutiful slumber beneath the weight of royal restraint.
A low moan from a nearby cabana made me turn my head. The sound was unrestrained, primal, something that would never be permitted in the hallowed halls of Valmont Palace, where even the servants were trained to move in near silence. Here, pleasure announced itself boldly, demanding to be acknowledged.
“You will no doubt recognize some of our other guests,” Vincent said. “Which brings me to our most important protocols.” His toneshifted, taking on a subtle edge of authority that seemed at odds with his otherwise affable demeanor. “Before we proceed further, I should clarify our non-negotiable rules.”
I turned my attention fully to him, though my peripheral vision remained drawn to the displays of pleasure surrounding us.
“Foremost, consent is sacred here. Our companions have absolute authority to refuse any request that makes them uncomfortable.” Vincent's eyes hardened. “Their wellbeing is our priority, not merely a policy. We've received your medical clearance—thank you for your thoroughness—but that's just the beginning of our safety measures.”
“Oui, completely understandable,” I said with genuine appreciation. The meticulousness of their screening had been invasive but reassuring.
“Our companions work according to carefully designed schedules that ensure proper rest and self-care. My business partner, Ibrahim Nassar, oversees staff welfare while I manage guest experiences. You'll meet him soon.” Vincent's voice took on a steely quality I hadn't heard before. “Ibrahim and I built this place on principles of safety and respect. No one, regardless of title or wealth, is exempt from these rules, Your Grace.”
The subtle emphasis on my title felt like both acknowledgment and warning.
“I assure you, I have no intention of causing harm or discomfort to anyone,” I said, meaning every word. “All I seek is a respite from...” I hesitated, unable to articulate the weight of royal obligation that had driven me across an ocean to this hidden sanctuary.
“And pleasure,” Vincent added with a knowing smile that reached his eyes. “Let's not pretend you've come all this way merely for solitude.”
Heat rose to my face that had nothing to do with the midday sun. “Oui.And pleasure.”
My attention drifted to a nearby couple, where a muscular man lay with his head buried between another's thighs, both lost in unrestrained ecstasy. The public nature of their encounter stirred something primal within me I rarely allowed myself to acknowledge.
Vincent followed my gaze. “Our companions wear color-coded wristbands that indicate their status. Green means available for any guest. Red shows they're currently assigned to someone specific. Blue signifies they're on duty but not immediately available for intimate encounters.”
As we continued our tour, I recognized more notable figures. Politicians with family-values platforms, business titans whose companies controlled global markets, even a fellow royal whose family had intermarried with mine generations ago.
A moment of panic seized me. “How can you ensure discretion with so many high-profile guests?”
Vincent's expression shifted to one of intense pride. “Our security systems are unparalleled,” he said, gesturing toward discreet devices integrated seamlessly into the landscape. “We maintain a digital fortress. No unauthorized communications enter or leave. Our airspace is restricted and monitored. If you need to contact the outside world, you'll need to use our secure channels in the main office.”
His eyes met mine with unwavering confidence. “In the five years we've operated, not a single verified image has escaped these walls. Our security team monitors global media constantly. When rumors surface, which is rare, they're quickly... managed.” The subtle menace in his tone made clear what ‘managed’ really meant.
“And those responsible?” I asked, curious.
Vincent's smile didn't reach his eyes. “Let's just say they discover that crossing The Ranch means crossing some of the most powerful men in the world simultaneously. Not a position anyone would envy.” He let that sink in before adding, “Your privacy is absolutely guaranteed, Your Grace.”
The implication was clear and oddly comforting. Here, at least, I could trust in the mutual self-interest of discretion.
After several more minutes walking through landscaped grounds, we arrived at a secluded villa nestled beneath a massive oak tree, its sprawling branches creating a natural canopy of dappled shade.
“Your sanctuary for the next seven days,” Vincent announced, retrieving a sleek key card from his jacket. “The kitchen is fully stocked with premium selections based on your preferences. If you desire anything else—culinary or otherwise—just use the communication tablet on the counter. Our staff is available twenty-four hours.”
As he handed me the key, our fingers brushed briefly. “Housekeeping visits at ten, but they'll call first. Your privacy is paramount.”
“Merci, Vincent.” I took the card, suddenly eager to explore my temporary haven alone. The possibilities that awaited me here stirred something long dormant, a hunger I rarely allowed myself to acknowledge, let alone indulge.
“One last thing,” Vincent added, his expression softening. “Every moment here is yours alone, free from obligation, expectation, or judgment. I believe you'll find it's precisely what you need.”
